MotoPic

MotoPic

Monday, January 24, 2011

Creationism

We don't know whether or not there is a god. We think there is. But either way he didn't create your universe. That was Phil. Phil was in charge of developing alternative ammunition for the army. So we took his new shells over to a quiet corner of the range and fired off a few rounds. To Phil's surprise, as much as anyone else's, the bangs were a bit bigger than expected, each producing a sustained reaction where matter was seemingly created from nothing. Right in front of us, three tori began slowly expanding. We hung around for a bit, watching the glowing doughnuts until it was decided that we should keep one of the three universes; the other two were quickly destroyed. We moved your universe into an empty and unused hanger bay near my office and then got back to work. Every few days Phil would go out and check on it, admiring the emerging shimmering lights and pretty colors. He was also keeping tabs on dimension, rate of expansion, total mass, etc. After a week, your universe was about the size of a sledding inner tube; chock full of stars, galaxies, and planets. Phil figured at the current rate of expansion, which was accelerating, we’d have a month or so before terminating our little project or risk damaging the hanger bay. Interestingly enough, a week later your universe stopped accelerating. In fact, it stopped growing all together, settling down to about the size of nice above ground swimming pool. Then it began to rotate in on itself. The bottom would pull up through the center and spill over the top, keeping movement between the clusters of galaxies constant.

Anyhow, it wasn’t long before both of us were reassigned to different parts of the base and our project was all but forgotten. We would amble over to that bay on occasion, just to check things out, maybe grab a bite of lunch if we had the time. But as the months and then years wore on, our visits became less and less frequent. Yesterday was the eighth anniversary of our creation, and unfortunately, the third anniversary of Phil’s death. Ever since those first big shots were fired he wanted to start another universe. He said that it wasn’t that yours had gone dark, exactly, but it did lose a lot of the color that was once there. So Phil got together one last shell, he said he added a little something special to this one, and again we went out to the range. He counted backwards from three, pulled the trigger, and wouldn't you know it, the damn fool blew himself to high heaven. Its not that there was Phil everywhere, the fact was that there wasn’t any Phil ANYWHERE. Just pop! gone. Well, needless to say I got a bit spooked about the whole thing and haven’t really come around much since then. Just once a year, on the anniversary, I come all the way out to the still empty, still unused hanger bay and pay my respects.

I forget how pretty your little universe is, sometimes.

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