Our Creation

Genesis

The grass is always greener on the other side. The synthetic scenery saturates the senses of the humans ambling about. They remain wandering in an ignorant bliss, gleefully unaware of the manufactured landscape they inhabit. The humans interact with one another, although we’ve eliminated the illusion of free will. We watch from the skies, admiring the glory of our creation. We are not of this world, yet we watch our creation grow and evolve, bending to our will.

We’ve been called Gods, Aliens, Creators. Our pets conjure up so many clever names for us. The creatures that we’ve created are eternally grateful. In the plains, endless fields of genetically modified grains flourish, and the metallic golden stalks shimmer in the gentle breeze. Cattle stampede on the radioactive prairies, producing the green milk that the humans purchase in the supermarkets. The Last War was more than two-hundred years ago, and the circumstances were abysmal before we emerged from the fallout. The fields were barren, and famine was the norm with humans resorting to cannibalism or suicide. The stench of death was ambient, and bacteria became the dominant species. We could not allow our creation to die by its own hand.

Our investment must remain a paramount priority, so we must take away our creation’s free will. In ancient times, we would shackle our subjects in chains and beat any dissenters into compliance. However, our creations have evolved, learning science and reason rendering formerly unexplainable events explainable. Ideas of freedom and natural rights began to proliferate exponentially, almost beyond our control, until we created another illusion. We descended from the skies and disguised ourselves as human.

We convinced the masses of malleable men to manufacture hierarchies based on superficial, immutable characteristics. We are the superior species, for we persuaded an inferior lifeform to destroy itself; not to the point of extinction, but enough to keep these primitive apes at each other’s throats for a manufactured scarcity. Wars were waged on all continents under the pretext of freedom, overlayed by ulterior, sinister motives, wrapped in a rigid, virtuous ideology in competition with other equally virtuous ideologies.

These humans had to be self-sufficient enough to sustain themselves without too much of our interference. The introduction of agriculture provided enough for most to have nourishment and the invention of money ensured that these resources weren’t allocated equally, guaranteeing a stable chaos.

Language had to be creatively controlled, placing limiting parameters on ideas mitigating the potential for intellectual mutation. Distractions had to be distributed across the globe. Screens with access to the rest of the world littered the landscape, with these humans believing that they had access to all the world’s answers, unaware that we were controlling the conversation by inserting dissension. Two-hundred years ago human beings had the world at their fingertips and yet they could not muster any reason or logic with the knowledge that they thought they were entitled to… silly humans.

We would send scouts disguised as politicians to manage our affairs. Our weapons of war were passed down to these underlings. We taught them how to split atoms, manifesting limitless amounts of energy. Two-hundred years ago, these humans would massacre each other for artificial currency and implanted dogmas. Humans were too stupid to figure out that all this division was manufactured… or so we thought.

At some point, some humans realized that they could use this technology that we generously gave them to unite and discover who we were. They figured out that the food we were providing was poison. They knew that the medicine that we gave them was designed to keep them docile and compliant. Sometimes one must admit a mistake. Atoms began to split everywhere, radiating the landscape. Furthermore, they blamed this carnage on each other! We watched from afar, from the comfort of our vessels, nestled comfortably in front of the screen. After the dust settled, there only remained 251,047 human beings. We again descended from the skies in our craft, seeking out every pocketed population, promising permanent peace on Earth, just like the ancient books promised. And now everything is perfect…

Emergence

Everything is automatic! It’s been a very long time since we’ve started from nothing. After the ashes cleared and the dust settled, we were left with a formless void ready to mold into whatever we desired. When we emerged from the fallout, we distributed our abundant resources that we hoarded after we split the first atom in the Last War. The population was oblivious to what we had done.

We were looked at as Saviors, Angels… Gods. Human beings have always had short memories, for we designed them that way. Along with the nourishment for these emaciated souls, we also gave them golden lockets in the shape of a heart as a symbol of our love for them. The interior of the locket contained all the knowledge that a human would ever need to know. A white void, a blank slate. Human beings need to know nothing outside of the information that we provide them.

Things are almost as they were, but we have a different strategy this time. All needs and wants are fulfilled. We again disguise ourselves as humans with our lockets placed around our necks. However, our lockets truly contain the answers to everything. We no longer lead; division ultimately leads to unity against the status quo. As human chameleons, we blend in, adhering to the religion of the day. Crosses, we realized, were too macabre and too open to interpretation. Too many variables. The heart reveals all and the heart reveals nothing, except for those that actually have a heart.

Radioactive milk and eggs sustain the masses. We still provide distractions, but these distractions lack information. Mindless games that we give these humans to play, happily ignoring the invisible marionette strings draped around their necks like nooses. These humans communicate however their languages are gibberish, faint phantoms of meaning still reside in their words but not enough to put together the puzzle. Everyone is happy and everything is fine.

The cuisine is exquisite. The finest protein that genetics has to offer. Engineered fat free and laden with serotonin inhibitors. There is no need for any Inquisitions or humiliations of heretics. Dissenters no longer exist; we’ve conditioned parents to succumb to every desire of the children. They are so cute, clumsily parading about; innocently indoctrinated and incapable of feeling any emotion – apart from bliss. And we still remain Gods… worshipped as we always have been as the Creator, though our creations will never fully understand their origins.

Who is that? Someone seems to be questioning the meaning of the empty locket. Forgive me, I haven’t dealt with dissent in a while. Let me think… Racism? No, we eliminated that long ago. Xenophobia? Nope, there are no borders that exist on Earth with only one language and one ideology. Hmmm…. I should probably check my locket.

What? What does this mean? I see nothing… just a white void, a blank slate. I’m supposed to have the answers from this. This is supposed to provide direction, it’s the locket that no one else has. How can this locket be empty? They told me that this is a method of control, designed to manipulate the masses. Am I one of them? One of them with nothing but a blank slate to draw upon, to make our own destiny? I understand now… I see the sun in the sky, the all-encompassing heart-shaped locket. This is a simu… simu…simu… simu…simu……

2039

“Mom! The game’s frozen again! Why can’t we get 7G like everyone else?! This is bullshit mom!”

“You better learn how to talk to me Bishop Archer! You turn that shit off and go to your room before I take your meds! Besides… you got a Zoom class in the morning, get your little ass to bed. It’s your first day of fifth grade. Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. See you in the morning light… I love you.”

Bishop scoffed as his mother kissed him on the forehead. He shuffled for the remote, struggling to find it. Bishop glanced at the screen and saw the character staring at the window with a pixelated face shaped by confusion and fear, seemingly pointing at the window. The screen switched, erasing the character forever as if he never existed… returned to dust. Bishop’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head when he saw the journalist on the screen. The NWO ticker crawled across the bottom of the screen… something about rising tensions between the United States and China.

Although there was a one world government, sadly old grudges die hard. Dogmas battle like cats and dogs to the death. The war against the individual was lost long ago, thirty years prior to the technological revolution. Everyone was one now, except… some had more than others because resources are never allocated equally. Bishop grew up with an underprivileged privilege. Raised by government babysitters because mom had to work two jobs just to pay taxes. Suddenly, the screen went blank, the speakers emitting a high-pitched moan. And then the television spoke…

Breaking news! The UN military has just dropped a hydrogen bomb on Beijing. The New World Congress voted unanimously to commence aggressive actions against the Chinese Capitalist Party for withholding vital resources from the rest of the community. It is estimated that at least 10 million Chinese have lost their lives today and the city of Beijing is no more. Wait… this just in…. the CCP has promised to retaliate and bring justice to the….

The screen again went blank, but the high-pitched moan was absent. Sirens began to wail in the distance, signaling some sort of catastrophe. Bishop ran to the window where his golden locket was hanging. He clutched it, for the youth in this time was much more aware of world affairs – they weren’t individuals. His mother always told him that if he ever needed assurance, all he needed to do was open the locket and he would find the answer. Bishop was terrified, his mother panicking in the background, scrambling to pack necessities. He opened the locket and saw nothing… a blank slate, a white void. Hopeless, Bishop peered out the window, watching the metallic golden stalks shimmering in the breeze, shadowed by a mushroom cloud far off in the distance… Bishop thought, maybe the grass is greener on the other side.