(№4.2)

Once, aeons ago, when the universe was only a hot mess with energy structuring and changing, warping and distorting any second, evolving, originating, deforming, reviving, boundaries not known to any form of life, by sheer accident, was something else born by hazardous mistake and painful error to us all, something with the tinge of intelligence, spontaneously out of complete nowhere, alike a confused weed, blooming in the midst of sand dunes, inside the hot-blazing desert.

In this hot mass of weird atoms creating worlds and destroying them in one human breath, where radioactive gas would kill any living being in the matter of seconds, there was another form of existence, already someone that was watching and comprehending, gathering information and growing with their garnered lore, immune to the smarting, overbearing heat, unfazed by the exact smashing coldness rushing in after only to what appeared seconds ago. A creature of thought and intent.

Maybe that was the birth of God, or any god just existing and in order to rise caused the universe's birth. The real felting one, the famed one for expanding till brushing the very edges of the abysm outside, the set boundaries set once out and never reached, hungry for many, claiming everything in the way, it swallowed and swallowed more.

Anyway, I'm definitely not the one who should open up such dire material, hence the reason we're just skipping that. The sanguinary bottomless appetite of the universe shouldn't be of any real necessity for us to deplore right now.

Where one force was, soon others would join, immersed and perhaps created out of purpose by the first one, being drawn to the immense power which was neither dark or light - if you were asking -, radiating immensely from that first figure, sprung of complete mishap, prior to the birth of Fate and her child Destiny, long matutinal meaning could be put and interpreted, foreseen, provoked by actions. Perhaps it still was all just meant to be, the most surprising coincidence.

Creating planets was just a spin of a finger for those creatures, building up their palaces and increasing their wealthiness until reaching other dimensions in lighting bliss and unaccountable power, the secret of the universe, the heart of the making all beating and throbbing strongly in their forms in united accord.

Wars and other rivalries ended for some planets to death and "inexistence", puffing them to mists and clouds of shrivelled gas and destructed shrapnels, a few stars being destroyed fro and lo, getting completely ripped, bombarded out of whatever was this fragmented existing.

Such was the thing with a certain planet, a very interesting one to be exact who was covered in something quite odd for those forms of billowing energies and in general was always surrounded with a very persistent, wary energy, as something was going to happen, supposed even, something grand, delusional-fantastic to conclude in a glorious and curious ending, ringing long afterwards with the indented bravery and agape shock of what had been there made.

They all watched for a couple of millions and millions of years, before throwing their toy away, with numb features, watching how the blue planet tumbled away, a potential glory broken.

They had no idea what it was to become, but maybe it was in the best interest of the planet to be left alone, so it could take its own course. And maybe their anger and their disfigured forsaking was exactly what was needed, the nudge in the right direction, the punting to something more meticulous and glorious they could have ever made. Those humble, self-unconscious specimens, involuntarily governing and shoving to action the entire debut of the tale on hand.

The slight annoyance of its makers - that even created fabulous heat far hotter than all ovens ever created could - made the ice to melt and dissolve into water - luring closer more liquid and moisture the way others did gas and sediment -, forming oceans and seas, then snuggling deeply interwoven around the water comparable to a big, huge, gaping bubble steadily closing and thickening, clinging as if being plucked astray and pushed into the unendingness of naught and everything, gases and the very baby-air breathable to mortal creatures, laying in its cradle steadily becoming to what it was supposed to be, not with the guidance of any of these "gods", but per the request of the universe, per wish of zealous chance, something else formed, aided by the filling with ardour and lifeblood to continue its latest project of success.

You know of the tricky, complicated theory that is to continue with these lucky bacteria to form and provoke other things may live in the water and do their simple thing, minding not what huge, spectacular accomplishment was to be performed by the billions of them, filling the atmosphere with oxygen, early life taking its course and everything. Then the one billion years it would take to have one of those earth-walkers on board and going, really, such a tiring matter, soil and sudden ground even being crystallised and formed in the first place.

Ironically, exactly those who gave up hope and arrogating to be the ones with the most power didn't make it. Didn't create it.

Didn't do the most relevant thing to have ever happened. Right?

Or it should be just another thing of insignificance, stark confidence and borderline stealthy boredom, I mean who could intrinsically and responsibly discern?

As matters were arranged and developed, the higher powers would finally pay their respects to the only thing considered living and thriving in the universe, to their knowledge at least. To ours still.

Bothersome animals, serene plants, funny fungi and everything in between, bacteria and archaea 20.000 miles under the sea loitering, fueled by an array of energy unmatched by theirs.

They peered from above gloomily and suspiciously at first and then they were done for, falling instantly in love with this scenery, the very idea of life and death as two giant entities opposing and encircling at ease, with the coulisse and relationships, how they acted and reacted upon, delight flushing for the very first time through their concave veins, if you shall call these according to anthropology, that is.

These things weren't numb and ignorant yet clinked and begged to their life with all force and provided for the forth existence of their species, more important, a matter, a wish, an allure beyond their abilities to deny.

It was magnificent and dangerous at the same time, as where Life was, Death lurked sometimes only corners away, patiently waiting as everyone's turn would be one time, when everything was over.

What was behind it?

What came next?

No answer, even for higher beings such as them. They would never die, so what was the issue? Why be curious? Instead they longed to delve in what these clever creatures figured out to last a bit longer, live a bit more, desperate and exhilaratingly brimming and droning with emotions of fiercest quality and much more quantity then needed.

Of course, immediately attracted to set steps on this place, they entered Earth and ventured on poisoned land and inhabited places you couldn't think of as today.

And when they came, they played with their new forces, experimented on the fragile beings and experimented with their genes until it was done and could not be reversed, soon there was something else there, their matching, spitting image born more fragile, inferior and in other aspects even more superior:

Mankind. They conceived something to how they saw themselves.

It took them about a million years to create the species that apparently would change everything. Start anything. Or destroy it all.

Gifted with personality and desire for activities beyond trite survival, there was mankind there, all of a sudden in stunned surprise.

The best evolution of the entire universe. Well, if you're asking the humans at least. Even experimental debauchery, no, if not this, should now finite borders we anyway have crossed once and now there is no turning back once going the path of assuming the role of a god, king to the genes and manipulator of incidence, conqueror of surprising awe.

If that's really the truth, one should debate about it.

The gods, at least, on their behalves were amazed by what they invented and even changed their appearance completely, seeming more human as simultaneous like the creatures, it was the most beautiful thing and the ugliest figure ever existing. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder still, so it was a fair right. Gods could look like everything they desired and they set down on humans. A grandest honour for those who earned it, who couldn't even comprehend.

Meanwhile the attire of the almighty contorted, the humans would change their environment precisely, and targeted as exquisitely, building villages and working together as a unit, an unstoppable army, a force akin to what floundered above in the clouds, if jarred. The smarting, capable spark of intelligence seemingly sprung from the gods bestowed to the humans and put to vindicated use. For now. Until they shall start to defeat their origins, grapple and cease the opportunity to rid of them.

With a little anticipation of the Gods, they even discovered art, music, poetry, language, the bud of recognising marvelling jewels, beatifically noble resolutions and most of all passion, yes, deeper, and steeper emotions than before, burning everlasting and singeing a lifetime to those who burned too bright, scars speaking of the blaze they bitterly concealed now.

A religion centering these higher beings was formed as of course, the gods only would take so gladly credit for what they crafted. Man was better off with constant, demanding occupation to even stoop over that little time gifted them to spend awake and walking, so they could make themselves useful by transforming into full-blown majestic worshippers.

Highly honoured were the gods, pleased with sacrifices and men's attempt to do justice for the existence, which made it almost worth all its dirty work.

The Earth changed alongside, ice melting, heat ruling and in awe, they watched how their creations fell down to a state of shocking lifelessness, hearts stopping and with angelic faces accepting their fate.

They were in fact fascinated, morbidly amazed by the premise of demise and death taking shape, coming to a true picture.

But also, they were still not alive and didn't know about the pain and the intense feelings, the perks of life, granted with intercepted balance to make up for it. Embracing before suffering, suffering before so you could rest afterwards. Everything prior to nothing.

They laughed when the humans died by silly, stupid, meaningless accidents or used their bad influences to cause combat, watching how the crimson blood splattered to the ground and giggled when drama was appearing, hot and seething, yes, turned the humans on to those fruitful, vindictive paths of hurling revenge and earnest hatred should become their most rewarding vice.

They were psychotic, without feelings, calculatingly deceiving.

Jealous children toying around on battlefield, sulking whenever their will failed to be executed.

They even became very angry and distraught with the fact that there were only a handful of them while thousands of humans running and milling around, only happy to procreate more of those faulty weaklings, expiration set in their genes just like incipience.

They tried and experimented, when it of course worked exceptionally well, and generations of newer gods were born. Not as powerful nor as wise as their forbearers, unmarked by the monotony of billions and billions of years doing nothing but watching equanimously the combustion and decomposition of atoms alike. The younger gods were still impressed and amazed by what they perceived and perhaps as easily manipulated by the illusion and alluring feeling they welcomed then rather abdicated of.

They even digressed from taking just human shapes and rather wanted to excel in one more category ahead from the humans, by seeming exactly like one of them, but much more radiant, vibrant, pulchritudinous, wondrous and fairer than the humans ever could, with clearer, shining skin, glinting from the very within, reflecting, smooth as silk hair that would never stoop down and crumble to be mottled grey and framing white, and features as if carved into marble, beautiful even to the standards of humans for infinity and beyond, pretending to be one of them for the hell of it, the thrilling, tempting sport, sacred amid to have gained the title of the most gifted and magnificent, walking in the group of human-skinned sheep giggling and self-sophisticated for the sneaky predators as they were, the very first aware hunters to roam the earth even. Without the pressuring, hurdling fearing of the day of expiry to haunt them upon the forfeited, fervent times of bristling youth and strapping ability, for the gods had countless, endless hours while the humans did not. Perhaps more eager to make their life worth something too.

The gods were perennial and had daughters and sons of their own even, overall the updated, better, stronger version of any living species, teaching their just-as-brilliant spawns everything they could and proudly so, though didn't know nature was already inherently impacted by what unforgivable crime they committed, an enhanced refinement one could conclude, if for amelioration or entire doom would still be proven, infesting these children's children of this bunch with one small, dismissive fault, a weakness of their own, but this is to be later discovered. In all honest sincerity, and for omniscience proven to remain, the gods were fools in all categories and all languages.

They stayed here and there, to and fro where the wind would take them, where they would be pleased or satisfied, being worshipped for a spare of least decades and at longest millennials, honoured by a foolish bunch of people before instantly planting the spiking, brewing seed of bitter envy or virtuous revenge that would wage wars and fuel armoured bloodthirst, painting cobblestones red, oozed by gore and severed limbs, the tears of the widows collectively the size of the grandest current to flow through Europe, the Danube.

Still, it was undeniably a fact of truth that where the gods would march and settle for residency, they gifted the people with inspiration, compassion and power, spiralling emotions and a purposeful goal of life, vibrant radiance they did not possess before, so perhaps all that existed carried some kind of purpose and sense, claiming right of existence, poised in equilibrium.

Comparable to the ancient Empire of Egypt, an advanced culture famed in the Olden world and admired even until today for its unthinkable extension, the mighty continent Africa, beholder of life and the cradle of all humans.

And that's how our story, the origin of the magnitude of misery began, brimming with nightmares and haunting horrors, making children shriek in their peaceful slumbers and making adults think they lost their deferential minds and head in a tumbling somersault of a capodopera of finite heightened fiasco and a vast approaching climax of torture and punishments for centuries and centuries ongoing to avast, all for the premise of treasured, forlorn love of two who must have never united, shouldering now the sturdy, tedious burden of a world ignited only by the promise of pain and blood as currency, the bones of the violently deceased long engulfed in the soil and striking the land to be damned forever, no matter how profound the purge would proceed.