The Creators of the Universe once again gathered over their latest effort, a tiny blue planet set three back from a blazing central star. The immortal trio were all rather proud of the little world, but unlike others they had forged, there seemed to be some speculation over exactly what to do with it.
They discussed the matter for several millennia — not really arguing, because they had evolved far beyond such concepts — but knocking ideas back and forth until they finally decided that someone other than themselves should run the show.
Of course, this led to further debate, but eventually they settled on inviting some cosmic prime movers to their spectral halls for a series of interviews.
At present, they weren’t having much luck. Several aeons had passed and so far not a whiff of talent.
The pan-dimensional deity, Zelzorzaz, had just given an impassioned speech about his qualities, and now he stood before the trinity of thrones in tentacled expectation.
From their faces, Zelzorzaz could already tell the Creators weren’t all that impressed.
“Who told you you were omnipotent?” the first Creator asked, not very nicely. Let’s call him Time. It isn’t his name, but it will do. He was really the chief Creator, although nobody liked to say so.
Zelzorzaz puffed up his carapace. “My mum, mainly,” he buzzed, and felt a sinking feeling when Time rolled his eyes.
“I’m not sure,” said the second Creator. She went by the name of Space, but those five letters could never contain her character. “I like you. Of course, the antennae and the mandibles would have to go. I can’t see the human race buying that, but, to be fair, I think you have potential.”
Zelzorzaz’s countless eyes twinkled with pride. He turned all of them on the third Creator, Mass, a squat being with a somewhat basic outlook on things. Mass shook his head. “Great for the stuff of myth, perhaps — but to govern things, no,” he said. “Tell me, Zelzorzaz, where do you see yourself in five billion years time?”
There came a garbled protest about galaxy conquering and sacrifices stacked up to the stars, but Zelzorzaz petered out, tentacles wriggling, when he saw the smile fading from Mass’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Mass said, painfully polite. “I just don’t think you’re original enough.”
“Please, Mass, I’ll do anything,” Zelzorzaz wailed, falling onto several pairs of hands and knees. “This is my infinity-long dream — you can’t just dismiss it with a click of your fingers. I’m begging you...”
Zelzorzaz started to cry. Not a pretty sight and it played havoc with the carpet, considering his innumerable eyes. His sobs sounded like worlds breaking.
The three Creators took a vote.
“You’re good... but maybe not for this competition,” Space said, wincing in sympathy.
“I just don’t think you’ve got what it takes,” Mass shrugged.
“Come on, Time,” Zelzorzaz sobbed. “I really really need this.”
“And a no from me,” Time concluded, in curtly dismissive tones. “Three ‘no’s’, sorry. You’re not going through to the next round...”
Zelzorzaz made a scene, bringing down a host of curses upon the Creators’ heads. Security arrived, a towering figure in a cowl, and used his scythe to usher Zelzorzaz back toward the doors to the hall. Dejected, Zelzorzaz stooped his shell beneath the arch as he prepared to walk past the multiverse-spanning queue outside.
“Now that was awkward,” Time muttered.
Once Zelzorzaz had gone, the three Creators held a brief confab. It was clear to each of them they were getting nowhere. They started thinking that maybe the role was too big for just one tutelary.
“Where are these entities coming from?” Time sighed. “There’s not one ounce of ability between them today. I mean, do they even test their own absoluteness?”
“Oh, don’t be so hard,” Space replied, rebuking her colleague gently. “At least they’re trying.”
“In a business like this,” Time countered, “you don’t get to be all-powerful simply by trying. It’s tough out there. The human race isn’t stupid, despite its bad press...”
“I’m surprised we’ve gone for bipeds again,” Mass interjected randomly. “Thought we might have tried orbs for a change.”
“Orbs?” Time scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh...”
“There was that bald guy,” Mass went on, unshakable. “The one with the belly. He seemed all right.”
“Too elliptical by half,” Time snorted, waving a hand.
“I liked that dude yesterday,” Space mused, gazing dreamily into herself. “You know, the one with the horns...”
Their discussion ended as a new hopeful entered the hall. He shuffled so quietly before the Creators’ table that they barely heard him.
“I’m here on behalf of my father,” the entity said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” Space said, grinning. “I do like your robe.”
“So what have you got for us today, Mr...?” Time trailed off, already disenchanted.
The man in the robe replied.
“That’s spelled with s’s,” he finished
The Creators nodded, inviting him to begin. When the man in the robe was done, the Creators raised their eyebrows, openly impressed.
“Simple, but effective,” Mass said, as the man set down his jug of water next to the glass.
“A joy to watch,” Space agreed, beaming.
“You know what? That was terrific,” Time concluded, nodding, “Oh... may I have a sip of that wine?”
Copyright © 2007 by JwBennett