by Davi Cao
Colin then thought about his message, which would start with “I’m looking for Mae, Terra’s Creator. I want my world back,” but instead, the voice heard throughout the world incorporated a different beast:
“I’m looking for anybody, please ... I’m so miserable in here ... Take me out of this world ...”
The floor trembled with waves of sound that didn’t have air to propagate into, they spat slimy debris on Colin’s body, half melted parts that didn’t stick to his skin, devoid of any will to make new bonds. The message penetrated every Creator’s core, making them doubt their will to live. A World Voice's echo, reverberating in the world's tissues. The huge loudspeaker shut up and melted down, overflowing the valley with huge amounts of decrepit matter.
At OOOO’s suggestion, the small group of Creators teleported from street to street to keep looking for Mae. On top of the blocky Creator, each step covered entire blocks. Intact walls became a rare sight, although they still existed, covered in slime, and pressured by the melting things surrounding them.
“Wait, stop here!” OOOO said. “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”
“No.” Colin felt disgusted by the sight, as if seeing a picture of Terra’s worst slums in the most backward of countries.
“OK, we can go now, can’t we? Whenever I want to admire it again, it’s just a matter of recreating it.”
“It’s a ruin like any other, the most abundant view in the world.”
“Billions of trees on old Earth, but some pictures were prettier than others, weren’t they?” OOOO said.
Teleporting again, the scenery changed at the pace of a slide show. Colin turned his neck around to watch for any sign of other Creator or creation. They pierced again and again the fabric of space and wandered through the ravaged city at a speed only robots could make sense of in Terra.
“Mae! Mae! Are you here?” Colin shouted.
“We want to meet you! You like me, don’t you?” OOOO shouted in solidarity.
“How far can other Creators hear our voices? I know there’s no air in this world, so hearing is something I don’t understand in here.”
“Neither do I! I guess it keeps the expectations from your original world, you see? You, as a human, listens to what you expected to hear from talking to people in your world. And so on. A universal listener could catch anything that we throw at it, wherever they are, can’t they?”
“Was Mae human like me?”
“Yes, very much so. Just a different skin color, though.”
Their teleporting bus followed its route, while Colin amused himself with this realization. Mankind had always dreamed of mastering teleportation, and at last he rode in such a capable vehicle. Anything people ever dreamed could be done and tried by his power, and nothing lured him so much as the comfort of his old life with its countless limitations. Were that just a dream, how wonderful! As reality, however, how unnerving and depressing.
A mountain showed up at Queens. Colin had his head lowered to the floor, lost in thoughts, when OOOO shook him with its cylindrical legs and made him face the odd object in front of them. A massive shape emerged from the ground, its surface shining in silky streaks, a fabric so delicate and soft that it painted a picture of clouds waving under a sunset sky. Two peaks shared the mountain’s top, and at the base the skin penetrated through melting matter, a hill-sized hologram.
“KIII!” OOOO said.
“I didn’t know New York had rough terrain so big,” Colin said.
“It’s not a mountain, is it? It’s KIII, a Creator like you and me.”
“What—” Colin tried to say, impressed by the giant ahead of them, a creature so inorganic-looking and still that he couldn’t associate it with conscience. “Do you think it can help us finding Mae?”
“Who knows? I don’t. It doesn’t use language like we do, does it? KIII lives in a bubble of its own dimension. We should get there and see if we can find anything interesting with it, shouldn’t we?” OOOO said.
“Wait, it is a mountain ... How can a mountain become a Creator?”
“Creators are beings that do useless things, aren’t they? Once a living being reaches that state, it’s a Creator. You could live without music, couldn’t you? But you did it anyway, because it’s nice. Humans can be Creators,” OOOO said. “KIII came from a world where mountains projected dimensions throughout space that did nothing but color the universe. Quite interesting, isn’t it? They are different beings, and fascinating because of it, at least for those like us, aren’t they?”
“It’s too different, too ... I don’t know. Do we really have to go there? What if it doesn’t like us?” Colin said.
“KIII is gentle in its own way. Most of the times it’s indifferent to us, and when it accepts us in its core, we can get lost in some trippy experiences. I like KIII, don’t I? It doesn’t need to be the dominant Creator to travel in a world of its own.”
The blocky Creator led them to KIII's edge, where they found the melted ground colored in rainbow colors. A massive silk wall rippled in Colin's face, exhaling a sweet smell that attracted and lured him. He felt a compulsion to touch it, to hug it. He stood in front of the cleanest and prettiest surface in that ugly world, and although it consisted of a Creator's skin, it could well be a part of the landscape.
“It’s calling us, isn’t it?” OOOO said.
“I guess so. I feel invited. Did we cross through its door?” Colin said.
“Yes. We are welcome in there,” the blocky Creator said, teleporting them.
Colin rested alone. He had trouble figuring out who he was, and he couldn’t tell whether he came with others or not. Under his feet, the sand entered his fingers, its dry grains going up as if reversed by gravity. The land he stepped on fermented in bubbles of particles, a boiling desert.
A ceiling pressed on his head at the exact height of his uppermost hair strand. Sand fell from there. Trapped between two giant planes, he could walk between them, the gap in their contact surfaces allowing him to go anywhere he could see.
On the distant horizon, both ceiling and floor merged in fluxes of sand. At every contact, strong colors radiated throughout the desert, each with a different smell. Just by looking at them, Colin tasted a banquet of unusual flavors. Chicken meat with guava paste, seaweed, black beans, bull’s horns and then goat’s eyes.
The composition displeased him, so he walked to the direction where the smell seemed more promising. Distant, out of his reach, the planes danced with waves of sand, each small grain inflating to become intricate sculptures of cosmic complexion. Galaxies of stone, swelling and maturing to the rhythm of his heartbeats.
Angeline flew past him, by his side. He identified her without looking, watching her body disappear far away. He smiled and kept up his slow walk. Another one flew by, followed by another and another, until all around him a flock of Angelines hurtled by in all directions, crossing the world's planes like ghosts. His blood evaporated, turning into an effervescent drink that satisfied him and gave him the ability to freeze perception and enjoy the moment.
Every Angeline had a unique look of her own. He found a young Angeline, when she used to straighten her hair, ashamed of her curls, with the same look from the first time they met. Most of the others had the same face he knew so well from her young adulthood, her thick eyebrows always disheveled, the reddened marks on her face often apparent. Her clothes varied, and looking at one, Colin could tell the exact day when he met that specific version of her.
He sank in her skin. Angeline stopped in front of him, staring at him with the smile of a friend, and she grew so much that her body crossed the planes and entered sand, engulfing Colin in her skin. He entered a chamber of flesh, where walls pressed hard on him and made him suffocate.
Immortal, independent of breathing, he still lived, and yet the weight on all his muscles dragged him down, organic chains tearing his mind apart. More blood leaked out from his veins to join in the cells of giant Angeline. In return, he sucked on the
liquid pressing on his mouth. Instead of weakening him, the transfusion brought him love.
She had drums in her organs. A couple of air bags, so stuffed that a mere glance made a sound in Colin’s head. He touched the first one on the right, and it played no sound. It meant “hello,” from the feel of it.
Ashamed to try any song, he who had matured into such an untalented man, he who had grown to be a failure at every creative endeavor of his life, he considered leaving the instruments alone. If he wanted to communicate with Angeline, though, the only one of his kind that he found since the apocalypse, he would have to try. So, he drummed, and the only answer he got consisted of a heart's explosion, for talking to her filled him with bliss. Blood and sweat spilled through his pores and became one with the warm flesh surrounding him.
Immersed in meat, returned to the womb, fetal Colin sped down. He became a rain drop, in ecstasy, awaiting its fall. His impact produced a soft whisper, crashing in gel, a surface devoid of reaction. Above it, the World Voice's great pillar ravaged the void, the power of its sadness turning into a mere conversation he’d had with Angeline.
“I am so worthless ... You will never love me ... I can’t create anything useful, unlike you.”
“Come with me to the beach. I can love you if you give me a chance.”
“No, I’ll ruin everything. I must get ready first, I must show what I can do. I’ll work, I’ll be good at something, you’ll see.”
“You’ll never get ready. Give yourself another chance.”
“No!”
“Make mistakes with me. Avoiding me is a mistake, but make one in which I can help you.”
“I’m too bland for someone like you, no ... I’m a useless piece of junk ... You can go alone, you deserve better. I’ll stay here and defend my world.”
“The world belongs to me too. I am it. You’re defending your distance from me.”
“One day it could be different. As long as it doesn’t end, one day it can change.”
He melted down, and it brought him comfort. Every muscle relaxed for one last time, every bone got to know the pleasure of softening. His body then reshaped itself, giving birth to conscience as he knew it. With freshened eyes, he recognized existence again.
He lay at the top of Lower Manhattan's mountain of melted buildings, by the side of OOOO and the blocky Creator, both standing with their attention focused on the World Voice’s pillar far off on the horizon.
∙ 14 ∙ Telepathic
The Creators remained silent, savoring the world they had just experienced. An eternity had elapsed within KIII, new friends had been made inside there, and now they returned to their former quest. An uninteresting search, by the standards set in the experience. The blocky Creator, thus, disappeared after a quick farewell:
“I brought you where you wanted. It doesn’t interest me anymore. I want more.”
OOOO, in its turn, approached Colin with a wide smile, moving its legs in a repetitive pace, a dancer of alien choreography. It stared at the plain water downhill, the ocean laying still on the planet's hidden mantle. The liquid surface rippled as OOOO materialized quick bursts of wind over it, making waves that matched the undulation of its own cylindrical limbs.
“I like KIII, you see? I always end up amazed at what it creates. Did you enjoy its world?” it asked Colin.
“In a way, it was a kind of sleep, a dream. And, god, it’s been a long time since I rested! I guess I’ll never dream again, will I?” Colin said.
“You don’t need to dream, do you? You’re a Creator!”
“Doing only what I want isn’t enough. The good thing about dreams is that they are out of our control and, at the same time, they are all about us. They show us who we are.”
“Interesting, isn’t it? You went through a whole life in KIII’s world. You were a part of it too, weren’t you? Are you at peace with yourself now?” OOOO said.
“Would ... would you mind if I spent some time alone? Please, I need to walk by myself for a while.”
OOOO closed its smile and leaned on Colin’s body. With closed eyes, it pressed on his skin, trying to fit in with him. It then stepped back and spread its legs wide on the melting ground, spinning its neck to face the World Voice’s pillar at a distance.
“I’ll wait for you here. If you don’t come back, I’ll go after you, won’t I? Yes, I’m curious to see what will happen to you,” it said.
“I can’t promise anything. I’m not that interesting, and I miss my people. Other Creators can’t replace them.”
Colin sank his feet in the soft ground at every step downhill. The mountain of melted buildings rose half as high as the One World Trade Center had been, numerous peaks showing up all the way to sea level. Without strange creatures around him, walking alone in the world's ruins, old Terra welcomed him again, giving him the apocalypse experience he always expected it would be.
“What shape is the sky?”
A voice sounded in Colin’s mind, crystalline, making him flinch, expecting an incoming World Voice. He answered swiftly, “The sky is round.” He replied with an immediate reflex, and his prompt cooperation earned him a strange satisfaction. Someone had pressed a button from far away that discharged hormones in his blood stream.
“Thank you. And what is this annoying thing in the world? Are you running away from it?”
“I am, like almost everybody else. That is the thing that destroyed my world. Now I want to destroy it to have it back.”
“Good. Now that you’re opened, I can see that you’re Terra’s offspring, our new colleague. You’re looking for Mae.”
“And who are you?”
“One of your kind.”
OOOO came rolling from the top of the hill, striking Colin by accident with its uncontrolled body. It raised up and jumped around in excitement, while Colin recovered slowly and frustrated at reuniting with the creature so soon.
“I heard a different voice! You heard that too, didn’t you?” it said.
“Yes, I thought it was the air, the ground, the World Voice’s twin, or whatever crazy thing you guys call Creators around here,” Colin said.
“You are correct. I am a Creator, and I’m buried under this hill. Could you please dig me out?” said the voice.
OOOO used its frenetic feet to make circles around the area. It climbed and descended the hill at constant speed, disturbed by the presence it couldn’t locate. Colin breathed slowly and cleared his mind from significant thoughts. Whatever that new Creator was, it seemed to read minds. And after facing KIII’s world, he wanted to avoid exposing himself.
“I thought you said Creators could only get stuck underground if they wanted to,” Colin said to OOOO.
“That’s true, isn’t it?” it said.
“I made a vow, you two. Creating, for me, is a spiritual activity. I’m not found of the physical world, and my body is merely a cage to my soul.”
“Then why do you want us to rescue you?” Colin said.
“Because I’m beautiful and you’ll enjoy admiring me.”
Vanity disgusted Colin. During all his life, his only pride resided in his capacity to follow other people’s guidance. His talents and abilities developed so little that he couldn’t hope to defend them. Artists, scientists, carers, nice people, loving, warm people, outgoing ones, funny ones, they all spoke of their capacity like giants. Colin did so about his work, but his work induced boredom to most, so he had strict boasting limitations.
“That’s something we can’t lose, isn’t it? Let’s dig our hole!” OOOO said.
“Wait, we don’t even know where it is! Hey, you there, how can we help you?” Colin said.
“Look deep into my soul and you’ll find me.”
“Ah, great ...”
A soul, to OOOO, meant food. Therefore, he imagined a probe which would multiply itself in the mud until it touched on nourishment, and once found, the winning clone would have to come back in a straight line up to get a soul of its own, right before melting dow
n. It wished for it, and so the sky seemed to fall. Countless tiny misty spheres came down, penetrating the ground, and disappearing inside.
“Is it talking to you? It’s silent for me,” Colin said.
“Yes, we are talking, aren’t we? It can’t understand me, though, and it thinks I’m ugly,” OOOO said.
“Not all Creators are kind then, right?”
“Kindness is a human concept, shared by some others, but not all, you see? Curiosity is more general, isn’t it? I’m ugly in a curious way, that’s what it's saying.”
“Should we really dig it up? It may not be good company,” Colin said.
“Every company is good company, isn’t it?”
A misty cylinder came out from the ground, its shape a nail, a nail piercing thin wood. White, shiny and a small sphere hanging on its tip. The shape opened up, empty. Its soul vanished, releasing the probe’s body to its imminent meltdown. OOOO’s bliss completed itself. It ran there to check on the hole, calling Colin to help it with the next phase of the plan.
“It’s down there, you see? Now we just have to remove the mud.”
“If we wait long enough, this mound will melt by itself and the Creator will be free,” Colin said.
“That’s one idea, isn’t it? Another one is to craft a tunneling aid. Not one, actually, because they’ll melt quickly, so we need many of them. Digging friends, what do you say?” OOOO said.
“I doubt it will work in this world,” Colin said.
“You should try contributing to the solution,” the telepath said.
And it poked the right wound, for that simple sentence hurt Colin. In silence, bowing to the invisible reprimand, he watched OOOO’s creations swallow the land and evaporate after melting down, getting deeper and deeper at every death.
In truth, Colin held no interest in the new Creator. He needed to be alone for a time. Even if he wanted, he wouldn’t think of any creative way of solving that problem. If it didn't come from Terra, what good would it bring?