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It was a simple life, really. There were only three rules; do your chores, don’t look out at Them, and do not, under any circumstances, question Her.
That was his life for as long as he could remember. He was in this dull flat since the dawn of his creation. However long ago that was, he didn’t know. There was no sense of time in the apartment, there were no clocks and he wasn’t allowed to look out the curtain-covered window because of the slight chance he might see Them.
It wasn’t a bad life, he supposed. His chores consisted of sketching and modeling things in grayscale for Her. This, he justified, helped Her make the world, the universe, perfect. Absolutely perfect. As for the lack of life and color in his life, She said he didn’t deserve it yet. He would one day though, as long as he followed Her rules. He could do that.
She never visited the space but preferred to send letters instead. Those messages had stilled to a stop the day the Creature flew in from the window. It was small, fast, and airborne. It was also vibrant in the way he had never seen before. It had shading and highlights that he was familiar with, but the hue was different. It was scary.
The message he next received explained it. It was a bird. A nightingale to be exact. It was from Them. The color he had seen was called brown. It was a weird word and felt uncomfortable on his tongue. He then decided he didn’t like the New.
He started to see the color more often, like when he looked down at his hands. It was a lighter shade, but he could see it no less. He was then given mediums with the same hue. Some lighter, some darker. She sent it as an apology for letting a part of Them in. He started to like the New.
He found himself waiting for the Creature’s return. Looking at the curtains with longing, day in and day out. Of course he would never admit it, he wouldn’t want to upset Her. It was one of those times when he felt something rough against his foot. When his head snapped down, he saw a long Creature, lacking the fluff and appendages of the other he had seen. It also had a different palette. Its eyes were similar to brown but much brighter and pure. The carefully designed pattern had a color he could not recognize. He decided then that he most definitely liked the New.
He had picked the Thing up with a gentle grasp. The thing was a little colder than he was. It felt weird. A good type of weird, he supposed.
Another paper was sent after the disappearance of the Creature; it was called a snake. It was a dark green with yellow eyes. He was not permitted to touch the Creatures, She had said, it would taint his skin and sear the innocence off of him. He didn’t want that, did he?
That didn’t stop him from staring at the curtains or watching carefully at his feet, though. He found himself making models of the Creatures. Making a lime green bird with dark brown slitted eyes and a black snake-like creature with green eyes and two pairs of magnificent wings. He missed the touch of the snake scales, he had never touched another living thing before, it was nice. It was comforting, but in a way unlike Her love.
He had found a New on his work bench, but it wasn’t a Creature this time. He didn’t think it was anyway. It was circular and shiny, its color looked warm like brown and yellow did, but impossibly more bright. He didn’t dare touch it, in fear it would hurt him in some way.
It sat there for a long while, staring at him as he tried his best to ignore the urge to glance at it. To study it. To know more. If She had wanted him to know more, She would’ve taught him.
Then came the Voices, they seemed far away and echoed up to the window and into his home. He could only assume it was Them. What is it? What does it feel like? Would she know if I touched it? I want to know. I need to know.
Against his better judgment, he had picked it up. It was cool and unmoving. It was hard and smooth. Though it was solid, he knew he could break into it. Crisp, the Voices suggested. Yes, it was crisp, he could bite into it. And so he did.
Taste,
apple,
red,
sour,
sweet,
fruit,
natural,
good,
wrong.
Wrong. It was wrong. It was evil. He was sure of it. So without looking, he peeled open the curtains and threw the ap -the Thing- out.
There was no message after that to his surprise. There were, however, red mediums now. He even saw it in his hair, it was a brownish-red; auburn. The Voices hadn’t left, they grew louder. He heard them everyday now, it worries him.
What’s out there? Who is She? Why is She here? Why am I here? What am I? Another Creature? A New?
He felt a heaviness he couldn’t express. So he sat on his bench and rested his head in his folded arms upon the desk.
There were constant noises, not words but not babbles. He was in a land of green with large brown towers shooting towards the sky. He touched one, it was rough on his skin. It smelled pleasant, but not like the overwhelming unnatural cleanliness of his place. No, this was fresh; this was nature, he concluded. He started walking, the green blades under him were as soft as he imagined the fluff of the nightingale felt. There were sounds of bubbling nearby, so he followed it.
He recognized the gray of the rocks surrounding the liquid filled moat but not the nonsolid itself. He knelt down by the bank, lowering his hand into it.
Water. Blue water. Cool blue water in the river. A Creature drifts lazily by. It’s a fish. The brown fish swims lazily in the cool blue water of the river. And so does he. He’s standing in the water, his flowy clothes now weighed down because of it. He lets the pressure of the moving liquid guide him forward.
He looks up and his breath is stolen. Pinks, reds, oranges, yellows, and gold all blended together to make a beautiful picture. He stays like this for a while.
As it gets darker, he climbs out and sits on the dew covered spikes. He takes in his surroundings once again. He knows the names now. Trees, grass. river, dirt, air, sky, clouds, sun, sunset, stars. The stars are familiar.
He awakes slowly, the dream leaving him like water drying in the sun. He stays there, recounting it. He goes through it chronologically, picking up a pencil to sketch the News. Then he reaches the stars. He had sketched these stars before, he had modeled them. He had designed them.
Where were they? Were they out there? Why were they there? What are they made out of? How were they there? When were they created? Had it been a trick of his mind?
As he stood from the table and looked around his surroundings. Something felt different, weird. The wrong type of weird.
His models of the Creations were gone and were once again replaced by the grayscale models of the stars. His colorful mediums were gone. All the color was gone.
There was a note stapled to the wall in front of him. In bold it read ‘I’.
He continued living this way for a time, mourning the loss of his knowledge but working just the same. He found himself lost in thought many times, thinking about the New and the Newer. Though he was stripped of his knowledge, the Voices continued with a renewed power.
Why? I had done nothing wrong, I simply just spaced on my purpose. Why not a reminder? A note. A sign.
A sign that his work was important. That he was important. That he actually helps Her. That She’s even there.
That thought equally shocked and scared him. Of course She was there, without Her there’d be Nothing… but that didn’t stop the thought from lingering uncomfortably in the air.
No. He refused to think like that. He had a purpose, he was made to serve Her. He would never think like this again. Damn the New and Newer. He chose Her.
There was a power pop of energy, of life, throughout the room. Time (though nonexistent for him) had passed since the day he once again devoted himself to Her and he cursed the New. But for the singular second the room lit up in color, and his traitorous heart had sparked with joy.
The curtains flew open with the force, letting him unintentionally gaze out the window for a miniscule amount of time.
Stars.
His stars.
He had found them. They were out there. So close yet forbidden still. Why had She hidden them from him? Were they Them?
Before he could ponder on, another burst rustled the window coverings and allowed him to peer out once again but with purpose this time around. He did in fact see his stars but had missed the colossal masses of land of different colors.
He ran to the opening and without a thought he threw open the shades. Beautiful explosions of glam and magic in a stark void. It was perfect.
He had helped Her make it perfect. He had done it. She was out there and he had helped Her.
As he marveled over the figures outside, something small and wet fell from his eyes. In his trance he hadn’t felt it, so they continued to fall just like the flaming balls of fire that shot across the black background.
He stayed like this until his legs felt like they were ready to give out on him. He stumbled onto the chair in front of his workplace and ran a hand over his damp cheeks with an imperfect toothy smile.
He wore it as he slept, dreaming once again about the New and Newer but this time with more understanding. More longing.
Space, galaxies, nebulas, planets, stars, the Sun, the Earth. He gazed at the ball of land with a feeling of comfort and realization. While he glided down to its surface, he remembered his only other experience of unconsciousness.
He was once again in the same land of green. The birds singing their sweetest melody for him. The snake in the weeds offered him a welcome. The trees swayed with excitement, extending its limbs to give him an apple. He took it with grace and nodded a thanks before enjoying the taste from eating the fruit.
The same smile was still stuck to his face as he woke. It disappeared when he looked at the new note hung on the wall.
‘II’
He recognized the text as roman numerals, but he also recognized their warning this time.
As he looked around his bland room that lacked the life he so craved and he made a decision in that moment. He stomped over to the window and with a deep breath, he prepared to rip open the blinds. Until he heard a dull repeating thud from the wall left of him.
A door.
It was white and plain. It was also quite old based on its peeling and chipping paint. The thud sounded again. He stepped over to it, feeling the texture of the wood. It reminded him of the trees. He opened it cautiously and peered through.
Grass, sky, water, wind, dirt, birds, snakes, apples, life.
The human smile once again appeared, and without a moment's hesitation, he stepped through the opening. As the door shut the note went up with flames, and gentle hands replaced it with a painting of an apple.