The Melted World (Worlds of Creators Book 1)

by Davi Cao

  “You’d better not talk to --J-- at all then, human, don’t you agree? Give it some nothingness,” it said.

  “No, I’m grateful to it. If it weren’t for its light, I wouldn’t have found you guys,” he said.

  “You’re a Creator with eyes, as I understand. Do you know what --J-- used that light for, back in its world?”

  “To see better in dark places?”

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” OOOO said.

  “Not at all. Tell him, --J--, amaze him!” the blocky Creator said.

  “I came from a world that had lovely, savory humans. I used to breathe their bodies and marry them.”

  Colin stepped closer to OOOO. A puddle of melted matter rested in the middle of their circle. One other Creator watched the conversation, waiting for a chance to participate in it. Its body comprised a dense cloud of dust, shaped in the form of a snake with five holes in its belly. Those holes spun fluidly, making Colin look at them, feeling like they were looking back at him.

  “These words mean not what he believes they mean,” the dust snake said.

  “Ha, they don’t, do they? When --J-- says marry, it means to collect,” OOOO said.

  “And when it says breathe, it means admiring,” the blocky one said.

  “It did it all through the light?” Colin asked.

  “Yes, my dear. This was a powerful tool back there. In here, it’s just a light,” --J-- said.

  “Whose turn is it now? Colin, do you want to join us?” the dust snake said.

  “Join you? In what, exactly?” he said.

  “In a match of ‘Survivor’!” the Creators cried in unison.

  The melted substance in their midst made sense after Colin heard of what they played. He stepped closer to OOOO, hiding behind its legs as the Creators faced him and expected an answer. As weird as OOOO was, at least it had two eyes and a human-like head.

  “Is it that game where you create things to see what takes longer to die in here?” he asked.

  “Oh, our dear OOOO is showing you around, how very nice! That’s the beautiful game, yes,” --J-- said.

  “Show us what you can do, I pray. So far, we’re all losing. This is a tough world,” the dust snake said.

  “A big challenge, isn’t it? Don’t you guys like it?” OOOO asked.

  “We do, heh,” the blocky Creator said.

  Memories abounded in Colin’s mind, taking him on a tour of his last days. Melting people, melting objects, body parts exploding and people he was close to suffocating and bleeding with rashes all over their skin. The world became a toxic place, haunted by a creature that made everything give up their energy.

  “I hate the idea of this game. I’m sorry, I won’t play it, and I think you shouldn’t do it either,” Colin said.

  “You are forbidden to order us around!” the dust snake said. “This is one game to enjoy ourselves.”

  “Don’t you have other games by any chance? Anything that doesn’t involve killing things?” he said.

  “We do, but we want to play flowery ‘Survivor’ now. We’re in a hard, dangerous world, and it’s entertaining to try to crack its mysterious essence,” --J-- said.

  “He’s a difficult one, isn’t he? A nice fellow, though. Just wait and he’ll create, let’s give him some time, right?” OOOO said.

  “Then you can go first, OOOO,” the dust snake said.

  “But I’m the last one to arrive, am I not? You go first and I’ll go last,” it said.

  The dust snake Creator boiled, condensing its opaque particles in an intricate pattern of spinning, interconnected wheels, a chain made of blades. Its body powder then fell down and spread on the ground, with a big hole in the middle. In front of it, in the center of their circle, something materialized.

  An empty cylinder in the shape of a tin can, endowed with a color Colin's human eyes couldn’t perceive. Its surface blinked in colored static to him. Around it, a belt of stars with rounded tips spun in waves, making the cylindrical body dance on the melting floor according to their rhythm. They matched their timing and performed a simultaneous spin, making the little creation hop in the air. From inside its empty cavity, a starry disk grew at great speed, penetrating the cylinder walls, crossing them in ghost-like fashion. The belt spun again, taking it higher up, but it then fell off from the creature’s body and took the entire creation along with it, melting on the ground in quick spasms of dust.

  “Too fragile,” the blocky Creator said.

  “Did you base it on something from your world?” Colin wanted to know, unable to hide his fascination with the exotic living being which had just expired in front of him.

  “Some of it. I hoped to add some of the things I learned with others. Still not enough,” the dust snake said.

  “Let me try now,” --J-- said.

  The Creator turned its light towards the World Voice’s pillar. It raised the tubes of its limbs all the way up, becoming a spiky shape, a compass rose. It fell down, and when it did so, something new materialized in the circle of creations.

  The ground bubbled, spilling melted matter all around. The small pieces of half dissociated Terran objects faded while flying in vacuum, falling down with the consistency of tiny black holes, sucking the surface around it until their holes became so large as to bury them.

  In a violent gush, a sculpture of glass and light came jumping from the ground, higher than Colin, scarier than any of the creatures around. It screeched acutely, crushing through their minds, a screw with hair in its tip and a big mouth in the middle of its body, from where a flickering light shone behind layers of its surface.

  As it cried, the hole of its mouth dilated, melting down with the rest of its structure. Once on the melted floor, a new giant screw, cloned from the other, erupted from the orifice left opened, only to repeat the same fate, continuously.

  It resisted more than any other creation, and they watched the suffering creature’s fate with intense curiosity. It repeated its death and resurrection long enough to make OOOO bored and allow it to remember an important fact.

  “We found our liquid-space Creator, didn’t we?” it said, touching Colin with one of its legs.

  “We did? Who is it?” Colin asked.

  “I am,” said the blocky Creator.

  The blocky Creator had ridges on the surface of its cubic body that changed position at snail’s pace. They all converged to one of its faces’ center, where an intricate bas-relief adorned the area around an elongated pyramid that twinkled in place, moving its base at such an imprecise speed that one couldn’t tell whether it hovered or just slid over the stone. That Creator's shifting shapes made little sense in Colin’s head, and he smiled at the realization of that strange talent.

  “Please, could you take me to New York?” he asked.

  “Terra’s New York? That’s gone forever. I only move through space, not through time or world barriers,” the blocky one said.

  “That’s what I want! I need to get to the ruins of the current city, but I have to do it fast.”

  “What is there to find in that place? Stay here with us instead.”

  “I want to find Mae. She will help me getting my world back,” Colin said.

  “He’s a prisoner of the past, isn’t he?” OOOO said.

  “He looks so. Curious to see what Mae would say to that, hehe,” the blocky Creator said.

  “So, you’ll help me?” Colin said.

  “Snappy Mae is not in New York anymore, my dear,” --J-- said. “She likes to change places all the time, and in the past few great worlds she changed her mind all too often. I’m afraid that’s a difficult tendency she hasn’t abandoned yet.”

  “I’m sure she was fond of Terra. She was its mother! Don’t you think she would like to have it back too?”

  “When you bear your own world, you’ll come to terms with yourself,” the dust snake said.

  “When I do get my chance, I will make it exactly like the world I came from. I still had a lot to do there b
efore it vanished forever.”

  “You have to create wonderful things, Colin. Antique Terra will never be the same as it was when you lived happily in it. If it were, what would be the big purpose of it?” --J-- said.

  “Did you believe in hell? Repetition is doom to a Creator. A bored immortal is a tortured being,” the dust snake said.

  “Not if you learn to see things the way I did,” Colin said.

  “Teach us, then!” the blocky Creator said.

  “That will be interesting, won’t it? He’s great, you’ll see!” OOOO said.

  “How can I do that? I mean, how do you learn?”

  “Create something juicy and show us how you see the fantastic world. We’ll always absorb something from what you do,” --J-- said.

  “I’ll take you to New York if you join our game,” the blocky one said. “Thus, we’ll learn from you and you from us.”

  Weakly in his mind, Colin heard the World Voice's lament. A worthless human being, miserable, the only one in a desolate place. And whoever came into existence in there would meet the same fate. The puddle of melted creations awaited in their midst for a fruit of his imagination, ready to squish it like a bug. No creature deserved to be brought into life only to perish in such an anguishing way. And yet, he had a price to pay in order to retrieve his lost world, a price suggested as lightly as someone asking for a candy bar.

  “I won’t bring anything to this terrible world only to watch it meltdown in pain, I’m sorry. Besides, I can’t create anything original. That’s just not who I am. I’m the kind of guy that will manage what others do, but won’t actually come up with any new ideas, do you understand?” Colin said.

  “Even silly ideas are amusing to watch, aren’t they? I saw you crafting stuff, and you were fine,” OOOO said.

  “I won’t do that again, not with things I care about. However, if any of you tell me what to do, I can play ‘Survivor’. Just give me an idea of what to create, and I’ll do it. Not something mine. Something yours, so that I can’t sympathize with it.”

  The group of Creators meditated on the proposal, and their silence allowed the World Voice’s faint influence to weigh upon their minds. Out of courtesy, being the one who knew Colin the most, OOOO took the initiative to give him an idea.

  “Think of something like a tree trunk. Can you? It is bare, though, without any branches or leaves. It has a human mouth, and a tentacle made of wood as an extension of its body. It needs to feed itself, and it does so by munching the tip of its tentacle. Do you see it? Think of a fast-growing vegetable, one that can lose thick layers of bark in minutes, renewing itself because of an active core. The creature is born happy and is kept so by pure insistence, because the outer layers of its growth always melt, but the interior is renovated faster than what is lost. Interesting, isn’t it? And as it loses huge chunks of itself at every minute, it forgets who it is, not even remembering where to find food. It has to learn again and again how to exist, you see?” OOOO said.

  The picture formed in Colin’s mind, a sharp image of a soulless creature. He challenged himself into thinking how that creature could remain happy, or what sense it would see in fighting against the hostile world.

  Renewing itself required something he couldn’t quite grasp in words, although he recognized in feelings. By forgetting the past all the time, the creature would have nothing to suffer from the power of the World Voice. With that realization, it became a consistent creation. Colin imagined it, he wished for it, and it materialized in the circle of Creators.

  “That’s beautiful,” the blocky Creator said, sensing from the melted ground's waves and ripples the entire dynamics of the new creature’s body.

  “You are a great teacher, OOOO,” --J-- said.

  “I am, am I not? And he improved a lot on my idea!”

  Colin’s creation had the size of a dog. A small tree, it greeted life with the despair of hungry roots, looking for a stable footing in the soft land where it lay. The bark that covered it from top to bottom evaporated, cracking and folding, until patches of it melted and flowed down. Colin feared for it, praying for a beloved pet.

  The creature’s tentacle touched its body, helping to peel it off with its curiosity. It continued the exploration of its parts, finding the hole of its mouth. With the tip of its arm, it caressed its lips, while closing and opening them. It starved, looking for the nourishment only itself could provide, but it tried inserting its food in its mouth and it just didn’t hit the right spot. Its trunk's thickness decreased visibly, layers of wood falling down and mingling with the ground’s mess.

  It found the mouth. The matching of its giver and receptor limbs caused a swelling of the area where they met, making all the rest of its body grow and recover from their ongoing decrepitude. The small creature became bigger than before, stronger, and bulkier. As it stopped increasing in size, its tentacle moved upwards and its mouth babbled in brain damaged spasms.

  “This one's a good survivor,” the blocky Creator said.

  ”--J--‘s creation lasted longer. We shall still wait,” the dust snake said.

  “It’s growing, isn’t it? If something grows here, then it’s total success!” OOOO said.

  Colin stepped closer to the child of his will. He placed a hand on its melting bark, and from deep inside the thick layer of wood, he recognized a pulsing, a connection to life from Terra. A magic being, creature of his initiative. A happy being.

  ∙ 11 ∙ Crisalid

  The creature crafted by Colin became strong enough to deserve a name. He christened it “Crisalid”, after touching its bark and feeling its inner energy. Its partially melted surface hid the scars of an ancient tree, beautiful in its endurance.

  “Will you want to destroy it if Crisalid thrives in your world, OOOO?” Colin asked.

  “It won’t thrive, will it? Wait until the World Voice comes and you’ll see how it goes. But I have nothing against it, do I? No, I just don’t like things from old Terra, because this is a world of ruins. New things are free to come and go, to populate whenever they can fit, aren't they? Who knows, maybe one of them can talk to the World Voice, can’t it?” it said.

  “Hey, I had a blistering idea!” --J-- said. “What if I create a tender twin for the Voice?”

  “Yes, that's a great idea!” Colin said. “Then it won't be so lonely and sad, and we won't have to suffer because of it.”

  “You would ruin the enjoyment. Its loneliness is its grace, our amusement's reason. I am entertained watching it look for a companion it will never find. It must remain alone,” the dust snake said.

  “Even if you created a twin, it wouldn’t appreciate the World Voice’s personality, would it? No, I made it a very annoying one, just in case, ha! It would get crushed in a minute,” OOOO said with a laugh.

  “It would be particularly amusing to watch it deal with a new intruding presence! Imagine it finding another loud voice and then losing it because it’s so boring and irritating! Wouldn’t that give it even more reason for its endless torment?” --J-- said.

  “But we have to try that, we have to give the Voice some company,” Colin said.

  “Yes, go on, do it. It will die, and you will enjoy watching it die, won't you?” OOOO said, staring deep into Colin's eyes, watching its friend give up of his idea.

  They talked thus for Crisalid refused to meltdown. It fed again after the same confusing process of self-discovery, and grew larger. On the third time, however, its body dwindled, sweating large amounts of sad bark which flowed down in a continuous stream. Unable to find its own mouth, it lost reference of existence, spending at great speed whatever happiness emerged in its core.

  Worried about imminent starvation and incoming death, Colin grabbed Crisalid’s tentacle and tried to guide it the right way. Rigid like actual wood, it remained in place, hardly being affected Colin's influence. With persistence, he discovered that it responded better to soft nudges, instead of aggressive pulling, and by gentle taps he managed to direct it t
o the source of its energy.

  Crisalid fed again from itself, swelling in quick bursts that rippled through its whole body. It grew to Colin's height, emanating heated pulses that struck at him while he stood by its side, filled by blessed thoughts. The well-being he felt rose above the fact that Crisalid's seed came from OOOO's mind.

  “I guess it's not dying any time soon, is it?” OOOO said. “Let’s all move a bit further to let the circle free again. Who’s next?”

  “Will we let the newbie win? I’m coming now!” the blocky Creator said, disappearing from its position and reappearing immediately at the place dedicated to it in the new circle of Creators.

  In the middle of the arena, without any ceremony, ghost stones came into being. Sculpted, oval shapes with sharp ridges in random places. They appeared and disappeared so fast that one couldn’t be sure how many of them populated the place. They existed in a dimension of space where subtle changes in their inclination generated multiple clones of themselves which could interact in unison. Therefore, they prospered quicker than Crisalid, filling the vacuum around them with countless stones that appeared high and fell down, only to disappear again and show up in another place.

  They became organized and made formations together, penetrating one another without any bending or folding. Together, they formed an ugly sculpture, like strands of disheveled hair.

  “At least it’s growing,” the blocky Creator said, defending its creation.

  “It’s pretty in its own way, my dear. It’s going nicely,” --J-- said.

  The pack of stones fixed in place, though, and for one second it seemed to become something else, something whole. Instead, its interior languished in sadness and death, for it melted down in long stretches of liquid matter, turning into elongated spheres that floated to their death.

  Outside their circle, Colin nudged Crisalid’s tentacle to teach it how to feed itself again. It thinned, weak, on the verge of disappearance. It found again whatever nutrition it had in the tip of its limb and grew. As it did so, it surpassed its Creator’s height and reached the edge of the Creators’ arena.