G
Guest
Guest
This is my story… Enjoy.
THE GAME.
Two figures stood side by side. Not in any one place in particular, they'd be here; they'd be somewhere else... Not anywhere, but always somewhere.
The darker figure had missed alot of the early years. Not that that meant very much to the onlooker standing next to him.
'So how are they pleasing to you at the moment?' asked the figure
'They always are... you know that. You know well that it doesn’t matter if they fail me or not, their intricate beauty will always intrigue, and please, me. Until it is time for the end of this game.'
'I suppose they always will... Until the end of the game, naturally.' said the figure. Even though there was no change of tone from the usual flat speech the figure spoke in. And there was no movement what so ever from his usual non dominating stance and passive expression, the onlooker knew he was being amusing to the figure in some way. More than usual, at least.
'And is there something wrong with that, my lord?'
'No, you chose them well. Even I have taken a brief interest in their simple existence... An exquisite game you have chosen too if I may say. You would be amazed at how many people choose chess*... such a bore' the two paused and looked on for what; in unspoken words they both knew was an aeon.
'Ah, it seems that your "Humans" are gaining rather rapidly this time, my friend'
'I can see that. Why do you help them so? You know that it just means that this one will take less time.'
'I would never help. That would mean the end.'
'Hmmm... I'm never sure when I can trust you. But then you like it like that don’t you?'
'You misjudge me, friend.'
'Do I really? I think that sometimes I know you better than you know yourself. And would you stop calling me that? It discomforts me.'
'Impossible. And what is this? You do not wish to be my friend? Besides it is irrelevant what I call you, I must not speak your name, else the game would be lost, for I would have called you. You would become no more, and the game would end. You know that others watch this game now... It is no longer just about you.' The figure said in flat tones... the onlooker sighed
'I know... Well, I certainly don’t want to be your advisory. You would be impossible. But in the circumstances I wish not to be considered your friend'
'Then I shall call you... The Game Player. You may call me what you will.'
'Hmmm... I think that a suitable name for the likes of you will always elude me... so I shall call you lord.'
'No. Not if we are to do this properly. I noticed you call me that previously, it... troubled me. Until you think of something suitable may I suggest "theFather"?'
'I shall call you the Father then.'
'It pleases me more than I have been pleased in an eternity, that you should do this.'
'It was my understanding that you held no emotion...'the Player started with a smirk. Knowing he had again caught the figure in a brief moment of mortality that scared it deeply. The figure left, pretending that he could not be doing his business from where his eretheral body had stood.
Meanwhile the humans were unaware of this conversation, and as such they did not know the weight that they carried on their shoulders an immense fate depends on the choices they make.
There were more creative ones, more in touch with themselves. They were closer to the mental link that the figure and the onlooker stood upon, and, in which many other species basked in the grim joy of. These ones, that created the Unwashed Village (8oP). Though it was nowhere near what the mental link held, it was there for all of the humans and of course the innumerable number of onlookers, from all over of the multiverse that had begun to watch over the millennia.
It became part of the human’s culture, and soon the world’s people were in peace with themselves and they became known to themselves simply as the Unwashed Civilisation. (Many believe that this was after a nuclear baptism, out of which a brief mortal rose, as a hero of good)
Although they had achieved what no human had ever truly conceived possible harmony was not with the rest of the world, for it was not the human’s native land. As such it could not cope with them... They plundered its natural resources and killed off the other animals that lived on the surface.
The time had come for the humans. Not knowing that they were not of the world the stood upon they were reluctant to leave. There was a great argument for many years. Finally they came to the conclusion that they should send simply a few men and women, who were to return with news of their discovery. Piloting the best spacecraft that the minds and workers of their race could conceive and build, these brave few found a new planet with the possibility of inhabitation, in a universe entirely different from their own. They landed on the surface.
The figure reappeared next to the onlooker.
'I see that it is, in this elaborate game. "My turn" as you say.
There the Exploration team sat. Thankful of truly fresh air after decades of deep freeze and re-oxygenated air. And suddenly, as the figure appeared to make his move, they forgot about their former world and the comfort inside their craft, and they went out to forage. And the Unwashed Civilisation died out... all but those on this new planet. Who, forgetting their past, started again...
And the figure disappeared... until the next time.
Looking at the new world and its recent inhabitants the onlooker said
'And they start again... How many more times I wonder? Before they find us?'
'I doubt they ever will... and so, you will never win, and never lose... And your soul will never know what it would become if I had won. As it will never know the freedom you wish for it.'
'What do you want of my soul then Father?' the figure paused for another round of the life of humans...
'I do not know. No one has ever come back from the various places I send them... I assume they either cannot come back, have suffered torment so that they do not wish to come back, or, they are too happy that they do not want to leave... I guess you will never know...
* There is one such game in every culture across the multiverse and, strangely, it is always called chess.
Thank you all for your time... let me know what you thought at mangobanango@hotmail.com or on icq 71200067... or just post a response
Cya!
THE GAME.
Two figures stood side by side. Not in any one place in particular, they'd be here; they'd be somewhere else... Not anywhere, but always somewhere.
The darker figure had missed alot of the early years. Not that that meant very much to the onlooker standing next to him.
'So how are they pleasing to you at the moment?' asked the figure
'They always are... you know that. You know well that it doesn’t matter if they fail me or not, their intricate beauty will always intrigue, and please, me. Until it is time for the end of this game.'
'I suppose they always will... Until the end of the game, naturally.' said the figure. Even though there was no change of tone from the usual flat speech the figure spoke in. And there was no movement what so ever from his usual non dominating stance and passive expression, the onlooker knew he was being amusing to the figure in some way. More than usual, at least.
'And is there something wrong with that, my lord?'
'No, you chose them well. Even I have taken a brief interest in their simple existence... An exquisite game you have chosen too if I may say. You would be amazed at how many people choose chess*... such a bore' the two paused and looked on for what; in unspoken words they both knew was an aeon.
'Ah, it seems that your "Humans" are gaining rather rapidly this time, my friend'
'I can see that. Why do you help them so? You know that it just means that this one will take less time.'
'I would never help. That would mean the end.'
'Hmmm... I'm never sure when I can trust you. But then you like it like that don’t you?'
'You misjudge me, friend.'
'Do I really? I think that sometimes I know you better than you know yourself. And would you stop calling me that? It discomforts me.'
'Impossible. And what is this? You do not wish to be my friend? Besides it is irrelevant what I call you, I must not speak your name, else the game would be lost, for I would have called you. You would become no more, and the game would end. You know that others watch this game now... It is no longer just about you.' The figure said in flat tones... the onlooker sighed
'I know... Well, I certainly don’t want to be your advisory. You would be impossible. But in the circumstances I wish not to be considered your friend'
'Then I shall call you... The Game Player. You may call me what you will.'
'Hmmm... I think that a suitable name for the likes of you will always elude me... so I shall call you lord.'
'No. Not if we are to do this properly. I noticed you call me that previously, it... troubled me. Until you think of something suitable may I suggest "theFather"?'
'I shall call you the Father then.'
'It pleases me more than I have been pleased in an eternity, that you should do this.'
'It was my understanding that you held no emotion...'the Player started with a smirk. Knowing he had again caught the figure in a brief moment of mortality that scared it deeply. The figure left, pretending that he could not be doing his business from where his eretheral body had stood.
Meanwhile the humans were unaware of this conversation, and as such they did not know the weight that they carried on their shoulders an immense fate depends on the choices they make.
There were more creative ones, more in touch with themselves. They were closer to the mental link that the figure and the onlooker stood upon, and, in which many other species basked in the grim joy of. These ones, that created the Unwashed Village (8oP). Though it was nowhere near what the mental link held, it was there for all of the humans and of course the innumerable number of onlookers, from all over of the multiverse that had begun to watch over the millennia.
It became part of the human’s culture, and soon the world’s people were in peace with themselves and they became known to themselves simply as the Unwashed Civilisation. (Many believe that this was after a nuclear baptism, out of which a brief mortal rose, as a hero of good)
Although they had achieved what no human had ever truly conceived possible harmony was not with the rest of the world, for it was not the human’s native land. As such it could not cope with them... They plundered its natural resources and killed off the other animals that lived on the surface.
The time had come for the humans. Not knowing that they were not of the world the stood upon they were reluctant to leave. There was a great argument for many years. Finally they came to the conclusion that they should send simply a few men and women, who were to return with news of their discovery. Piloting the best spacecraft that the minds and workers of their race could conceive and build, these brave few found a new planet with the possibility of inhabitation, in a universe entirely different from their own. They landed on the surface.
The figure reappeared next to the onlooker.
'I see that it is, in this elaborate game. "My turn" as you say.
There the Exploration team sat. Thankful of truly fresh air after decades of deep freeze and re-oxygenated air. And suddenly, as the figure appeared to make his move, they forgot about their former world and the comfort inside their craft, and they went out to forage. And the Unwashed Civilisation died out... all but those on this new planet. Who, forgetting their past, started again...
And the figure disappeared... until the next time.
Looking at the new world and its recent inhabitants the onlooker said
'And they start again... How many more times I wonder? Before they find us?'
'I doubt they ever will... and so, you will never win, and never lose... And your soul will never know what it would become if I had won. As it will never know the freedom you wish for it.'
'What do you want of my soul then Father?' the figure paused for another round of the life of humans...
'I do not know. No one has ever come back from the various places I send them... I assume they either cannot come back, have suffered torment so that they do not wish to come back, or, they are too happy that they do not want to leave... I guess you will never know...
* There is one such game in every culture across the multiverse and, strangely, it is always called chess.
Thank you all for your time... let me know what you thought at mangobanango@hotmail.com or on icq 71200067... or just post a response
Cya!