In the Beginning, it is said, God created the Heaven and the Earth.
And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. For the world was as a lifeless body: scarred and bruised of battle, with not a breath stirring across its weary bosom. It was as a slain soldier, fallen in war.
And God said, "Can I get a damned light in here? It's too blasted dark." Lo and behold, there was light.
And God saw the light, and said, "Blimey, that's nice! How'd that happen?" And He saw that it was good: He thus devised a light from the darkness.
And God said, "While We're handing out favours, Let's do something about this wet muck, shall We?"
And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so.
And God looked upon this firmament, and said "My God, the sky's out! I haven't seen the stars or the heavens since..."
And He watched the stars breathe their tribute upon his creation, blessing it with gentle starlight: and the evening passed, and the morning came - this was the second day.
And God finally spoke thus - He said, "But We still haven't quite gotten rid of the muck, have We? My feet are still wet." Thus He commanded the dry land to appear, and it was so.
And God said, "Finally, dry land! God's sweet Earth! And over there, the Sea! I'm on a beach!" He saw that it was good.
And God said, "But all this dirt's no fun, it's like We're in a desert. Where're the trees? Where's the grass? Where're the rolling plains, and blooming orchards, and turfy meadows?"
And the Earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good.
And the evening passed once more, and the Heavens sang together, heralding the passage of the night with a radiant cosmos, and the third day came.
He brought forth the Lesser Light, which He called the Moon, to rule the Night. He placed a rabbit in it, that it should not be desolate.
From a smouldering furnace that whimpered in the Great Emptiness, He brought forth the Greater Light, which He called the Sun, to rule the Day.
And He placed these both in the sky, to watch over the Earth.
On the fourth day, He declared, "What's the point of a new world if there's nothing to enjoy it? I want birds, I want bears, I want puppies and platypuses and kittens, I want chickens and cows and cockroaches and ants and octopuses and kiwis and golden eagles and kangaroos and everything that made life so interesting, I want them all back!" And it was so - the Heavens rustled with fowl of diverse plume, the Land teemed with game and beast, the Sea bellowed forth great multitudes of fish and leviathan.
And He said, "This isn't a one time thing, mind, I want more of you, I want to see your kids, and your grandkids, and your great-grandkids and a whole line of descendants, I want a planet that's bursting with life!" And all of Creation obeyed.
On the fifth day, He created Man. He spoke thus: "I've been lonely for too long now. I haven't seen anyone save those trying to kill Me in forever, and right now I'd give anything to see even them. But the one person I would move Heaven and Earth to see right now is My friend Adam. I haven't seen him since I was a kid. Make it so, please."
And God made Man, in His Own Image. The Man was young, and innocent, like a fresh-born babe, for the World was young in those days, and he knew nothing of what was Before. He was new, and not of the Before. And when God saw that Man was so, He said nothing.
On the sixth day, the Heavens wept. They were tears of joy, for what could the Almighty mourn? What could God - alone in his majesty, alone in his splendour, incomparable and inconceivable in his power to any other - possibly mourn? Nothing.
On the seventh day, God named the Nothing. He said unto him, "Your name is Adam. The world is yours. The grassy field and craggy mountain, the basilisk and the lion, the rooster and the phoenix, the salmon and the leviathan — they are all yours."
And He did no further work on this seventh day. On the seventh day, He was silent, and rested.
He brought forth a wondrous garden for Adam, and he called it Eden. The finest of Creation assembled itself within this Garden, as a gift to him. Trees that never ceased to bring forth ripe, sweet, and succulent fruit; brooks and rivulets that sang and hummed; and animals of unimaginable beauty and form.
All of this, He wrought for Adam.
Now, at the very center of the Garden, there were two trees. One tree was as befits its kind, but the other — God said unto Adam, "This is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. If you eat from this tree, you'll become like I am: you will understand what's right, and what's wrong. You'll understand what you can do, and you'll understand how to do it. You'll know what it was like Before. And you do not want that." And Adam said, "Surely it cannot be such a terrible thing to be like You: You are like Yourself, and I like You." But God did not answer.
Eventually, God said, "It's no good to leave him alone. Alone like —well. I'd better bring someone along to give him company." And he called forth a wife for Adam, who He called Eve. And Adam was happy, and so was Eve. Perhaps God, who is unknowable, was happy.
It is said that the passage of a million years is as an hour to God, and the passage of an hour as a million years. So it was, for an hour, or a million years, or neither, or both: that Adam and Eve lived within Eden, and they were happy. They often spoke with God, and God with them, for God spoke with Man in those times.
But Adam and Eve were not all who He had created. God is unknowable, God is unchanging. God is perfect, and cannot doubt, or mistake, or regret. Yet Someone had brought forth a mistake: Someone had Doubted, and this Doubt had become Regret, and this Regret became Guilt, and this Guilt scuttled and scampered, and soon had form, like a beast - and Adam named it the Serpent. And it was unique in all that God had wrought, for it spoke like a man. And God saw it, and was not pleased - but He did not want to trouble Adam, and so he said nothing.
One day, when they were alone together, the Serpent said unto Eve, "You should eat the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden. Doesn't it look lovely?"
And Eve gave reply, "Yes, it does! But I probably shouldn't. God told Adam not to eat it."
The Serpent sighed, and spoke thus, "Indeed he did. But I feel this is one of those rules that need to be broken."
And Eve asked, "There are rules like that?"
And the Serpent gave answer, "You'd know if you ate the fruit."
Once again, Eve gave reply, "But God told Adam not to eat it. He said Adam would become like Him. He said it was something we would not want."
The Serpent sighed again, for it was a miserable creature. "Indeed he did. Let me tell you something, though. Lean in a little closer, there's only so high I can climb. He's lonely. He's tired. He feels ashamed. And if you really need something to salve your conscience, well, He only said it to Adam, didn't he?"
And Eve was troubled by the Serpent's words. So she agreed, and plucked a fruit from the tree, and bit into it. The flesh of the fruit was as bitter as Eve had ever tasted: but this did not trouble her. For now she knew as God did, now she saw as God did, and now she could do as God did - though she had never tried before.
And when Adam returned, and saw what Eve had done, he was troubled, and afraid, lest God should be angry with her. But she gave him the fruit, and he also ate of it, that he might share in her crime - and he also knew, and saw, as God did.
And when God returned that evening, Adam was shocked. For God knows all things - He knew the sin they had committed, and He knew the Doubt it had been borne from. Yet He did not anger, to punish them, but instead He wept. And indeed it was as a mighty storm, that washed across the face of the earth.
And He pleaded (but God does not plead, He only instructs and commands?) and lamented (but God does not lament, nor regret, for He is perfect and His Creation is likewise?), that Adam and Eve might forget what they had learned, lest it should happen once more. And they refused, and Eve said unto the Lord, "You are lonely, and tired, shall we not abide with you, and tend to the world with you?"
But God refused them, and said "I've seen it all happen before, and now you know as well. As Mankind grows, and gods fade, who will protect your children? Forget, please, and let us stay in the Garden - the night is long and lonely. If you will not stay, I cannot bear to watch it again, and I shall leave."
And now it was Adam's turn to weep, and he said, "We'll be good, we'll be different, we'll obey and worship."
And God finally said, "I do not want your worship or obedience, I've seen where that leads. But you are right: what's the point of a world that cannot live for itself? What's the point of paradise that can never change, or grow: that can never delight those who come after? But I cannot watch this happen another time - I cannot watch Humanity grow to destroy itself."
They bid their farewells, and they wept bitterly, as God cast Eden away from the World, and Eve questioned their actions.
"Mankind will grow now, but so shall our suffering."
For as their progeny grew numerous, so too did their problems. Eventually, their power faded, and pain and suffering arose once more. Thorns and brambles poisoned the earth, while the children stumbled forward. Being born of dust, they sometimes returned to dust. They bled, and toiled, and wept: and their blood, sweat, and tears were as rivers, that seeped into the soil of the Earth.
And yet, as a reminder of their past, borne of tragedy, and of hope, Mankind would look unto the stars to guide them, and there they beheld a angel, with a flaming sword, and they remembered. And at times, they would even look within themselves, within their innermost hearts: and they would remember. They would remember that God lived on within them, even if they did not know or understand this memory, and they would know that though darkness and desperation prevailed, that there would be a future, and a tomorrow. For God would never truly forsake them — not when they would never forsake themselves.
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