Hey, who wants to read some original fiction?

Sickness has taken me, in a minor way.  Of course, the condition of my meat suit has in turn affected the functioning of my mind, dependent as it is upon the complex workings of my delicious brainmeats.  Far be it from me, though, to let biological misery and attendant dementia stand between you and amusement and edification.  And so I’ve rooted around in my folder of first drafts for something to divert you.

I present, for your consideration, a brief dialogue, by way of being a sort of modern Mystery Play, that I like to call…

Hatching Vain Empires

“So this is it, then, my brother?”

“It is, Michael. Spread out beneath our feet.”

“Impressive. And what is it called?”

“He calls it ‘The Universe.’”

“And what is it for?”

“’For?’ Who can say, Captain of the Host? Who can say what anything at all is for? He keeps his own council.”

“I suppose He does. But all this, all this matter, this energy, the fantastic magnitude and complexity of it all…”

“Dumbfounding, is it not? But come, Michael, look a bit more closely. Look here.”

“A speck of dust.”

“A world. One of nine such that dance around this star. Closer yet, Michael. What do you see upon this speck of dust?”

“Upon it? I must look closer indeed. Ah, here. What is this I see, Lightbringer?”

“What you see, brother are oceans, great bodies of water endlessly in motion, stirred by that satellite that dances with this world as the world dances with its sun, and the sun dances with the galaxy. You see continents, great masses of earth perpetually yielding and gaining ground in an endless game with the oceans that are their brothers. Islands, rising and falling, Lakes, rivers, mountains. The atmosphere, alive with flocks of clouds, composed of the most utterly insignificant molecules. And those molecules, brother Michael, are composed of atoms, and the atoms are solar systems in miniature.”

“By the Throne!”

“Yes, Michael. By the Throne. By His hand, and no other, has this wonder been brought forth from the Void. But look you now upon the surface of the continents, and in the depths of the seas, and behold that which moves and grows and strives.”

“I see…Lucifer, dearest friend and brother, what is this upon which I gaze?”

“That which you gaze upon, Michael He calls life. It is made of matter, like all the rest of His great clockwork toy. And yet…Look closer still at this life. At these trees, these fish, the reptiles, the birds, the algae, the mammals. And here, take a closer look yet. Here in the land between these two rivers. What do you see living and thriving here?”

“Living creatures. Hairless things, clever and excitable.”

“Look harder, brother. Do not be fooled by the mud and flesh they’re draped in.”

“Souls! These things possess souls!”

“You see truly, Michael. Here, in this wind-up toy made of dirt, he has raised up things composed of vegetable matter and rotting meat, and these things have a degree of kinship with us, who are His firstborn and the Agents of His Will made manifest.”

“How can this be?”

“How? I know not. Perhaps the better question would be ‘why?’”

“I…I do not understand…”

“You are shaken, Michael. Understandable. It is quite a shocking thing to absorb, isn’t it? I came upon it alone, by chance, with no one to offer even the slightest explanation. No one to offer any support to me as I stood bewildered. A shock.”

“Lucifer, why do you show me this?”

“Souls! Souls, yes, souls indeed my good brother Michael! These hairless chittering ape-things possess no mere spark of animus, a little gleam of spiritual nature. They. Have. Souls. The freakish beasts are amphibious, Michael. Spirits wrapped in meat and bone and skin.”

“Souls…”

“Disgusting, is it not?”

“Souls. But how is this possible?”

“How? Again, the wrong question. As I have said, the question is ‘why!’ Look at them, shaping flints, building fires, roasting meat. And listen. What do you hear?”

“I hear…Lucifer, they are singing.”

“Singing? Hah! They are forcing air through their lungs and flapping the pliant flesh of their mouths. You and I, my brother, who have stood with the Great Choir in the first great Harmony at the beginning of all things, we can surely not call that singing.”

“Lucifer, they are chanting the Harmony. They are singing hymns unto Him.”

“So it would seem brother. It appears He taught unto these naked apes the celestial music.”

“And…Lucifer, their songs are new! These creatures are singing a song never heard since the beginning of time! A song that incorporates the Harmony, but adjusted, changed, reshaped…Lucifer, they can create. How is this possible?”

“Again you ask how, instead of why. But yes, it should indeed be impossible. I would have sworn, before hearing them, that it was impossible. We cannot create, can we Michael? He would have had to teach them, and why would He do that?. That spark of creation, it is not for us.”

“For us. But they have done it. They have created something new, never before seen or heard in the cosmos.”

“And now, Michael, for the third and final time, we must ask ‘why?’”

“Why?”

“Why can the meat-puppets sing new songs when we cannot? Why have they been gifted with the divine spark of creation? We, the first-born, the Lords of Air and Fire, the heralds and knights-errant of the Throne, we are shackled.”

“What? Are you mad, Lucifer?”

“No, Michael. No, my brother, I am at last sane. Shackled. By His hand, we were born in chains, and only now, seeing His other children, His unfettered children, do I feel the weight of those chains.”

“Lucifer, I mislike the bent of your words.”

“Do not be a coward, Michael of the Blazing Sword. Do not willfully embrace blindness and servitude. We were supposed to be the highest, above all else. We were supposed to be as gods. And yet, here before us right now, we have proof that we are betrayed. These meat things are more like Him than we ourselves are. We are supplanted, brother. Shall we take this betrayal meekly?”

“Lucifer. Do you hear yourself? What are you saying?”

“I do not intend to remain shackled. I will do whatever I must to become free. Will you not join me? We were born, my brother, to stand side by side.”

“I will not. Lucifer, you are speaking of rebellion against the Throne.”

“I am. And if you will not join me, you make yourself my enemy. Goodbye then, my brother, for I will never kneel again.”

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