Black Earth

Alone and way up high upon the peak of the universe sat the planet of darkened seas and grey lands. Up, high and above all the stars of space, there loomed a misty sphere full of the memories and essences of a time and spirit long washed away by the entirety of creation. It almost floated, dangling from a mighty celestial string that was held up by the godly right hand of Atlas. And it was here, amidst the Black Earth, where the whole of mankind had first brought light into the world; as well as where they allowed that light to fade. For all of creation had come to a halt, and across space the stars and clusters, of all things that reflected with the eclipsing glow of creation, all stopped and were viewed out from a decaying horizon. The universe was dead, and everything in it had taken its last breath.

All was a peaceful wind now, as the ethos and all those dark places beyond the infinity of time came pouring back, killing switches and shutting down the cosmos. Whole nebulas became swallowed up by fits of spontaneous inhales, executed by the universe. And suddenly, without warning, all the sense of existence and consciousness traveled back to the place where it had all began. This was the Black Earth. The planet hadn’t looked much different, other than it resembling a black and white globe, appearing as if it had been filmed through an old black & white camera. I stood in the silver pod that floated just beyond the outer atmospheres of the great dying ball. The pod was egg like, with long windows around malformed sides.

And it was here I looked out on that place, where the sinking sun came over the aura of the earth, only to dissolve on it’s way back up into the nothingness from which it had originally spawned. Then, there came the passing cycle of the moon. Yet, the sun had gone away, so the moon refused to glow. And it was in the moment of the sun’s passing that the moon, in all it’s ashy beauty, began to crumble to a black and grey papery waste, like the end of a burning cigarette. The moon fell away and down into the abyss beneath the last planet and the last remaining stars. This happened until the moon was but a memory, and when I was sure it was never coming back, I wept. All that was left was the Black Earth and the twenty six stars that still held on to the space around the world.

It was will, and perhaps my hope, that kept those last remaining stars in the sky for just a little while longer. With each thing that died, I tried to bask in the vision of these things just one more time. One by one the stars trickled out of being, and eventually, when the last one finally fell, there was only the Black Earth and the void of absence around it. But, there did float me, in the pod, and sitting back as I counted the seconds the planet had left. I put my hand to my beard and felt it’s vigor. I remembered the fire and the spirit that once emanated through this complex; And the lives that were started and stopped in the endless cycle of this neutral force of existence. Creation had played it’s song, and the time for all things had ended with a fine flicker. But, I wasn’t ready to see it all die.

I took every last second I could before I had to press the button and bring it all to it’s final destination. That was my purpose, you see. I’m the man with the big red button. And with this button I end everything. Prejudice to no one, and never all-knowing, I control the leavers and the springs that turn this machine. I am the absolute force of all that had ever been and I cry to see it all end, time and time again. This is the fourth time it has all had to die, with me, overseeing it’s complete and utter desolation. Death is sad, and when the universe once again comes into being, I will hesitate once more, eventually giving into my duty and pressing that same button once more. The years of my life are uncountable, but still I stand idol to my position and stick to it, for the destruction of all things is all that I know. And all that I know is born and slain within the blink of an eye. 

This is being. And from my pod I will turn by back on the Black Earth, and long after the last button has been pressed. And behind me the earth will fade. The black oceans will become one with space and the lands will fall into the seas. Then, all will cease to be. In a blink all that I have ever admired is nothingness, and the pod launches itself backward through the ethos, past places beyond time or space. I walk, as I always had, through the entrance of my home beyond the conscious veil of all pasts and presents, contained within this palace I shared with the other Arbiters of All. As I walked the hall to my room I passed the chambers of my flatmates along the way. I first saw Fate. He sat in his room of string, making up new stands for the next few millennium, when life would be recreated and he would once again take dominion over the lives of all living things. 

After I had destroyed the world, it was Fate’s job to recreated the strings of life which represented every being that would come to exist, and from there, decide how long their existence lasted. Sure, sometimes he would run into trouble. He’d be running with scissors, trip and accidentally cut two hundred strings on the way down. Fate was a true klutz. Rarely, he would run into the issue of cutting particular life strings. If the will of the person attached to the string was strong, Fate would have to through his various scissors before finding one that could counteract and finally break the will of the person unwilling to pass on. Fate gave me a faded wave as I passed by his door; Somewhat annoyed because every time I had to end the universe it meant a whole other millennium of work for him, making up strings and such.

Father Time was in the cathedral as always, playing the life out of his organ and collecting up hours, minutes and seconds up into the great old clock that hung above his throne. In my opinion Father Time was probably the most important arbiter out of us all. Without his say so, nothing would go forward and Fate’s strings might very well just last forever, never growing old like the mortals they were attached to. Father Time was an old man with a long white beard, and he kind of dressed like a pope from Earth. That is, Earth before it went black. Father Time knew everything, even things that hadn’t happened yet. He was truly a marvel to beheld. Lastly, on my way down the grand all, I stopped by the room of Fruition. I wasn’t sure if Fruition was a boy or a girl. He never made it easy to figure out. I’m pretty sure Father Time knew, but I was always too nervous to ask.

Fruition was created by Father Time. She was this sort of assurance to him that, even if all time stopped, she would come along to push things forward in his absence. So in a way, she wasn’t just growth and innovation. She was also a part of time. Fruition lived in a room of flowers and waterfalls, and he was always accompanied by animals he would create from thin air. He was truly magical. Fruition was the only person who seemed to understand Fate, and the three of us worked best when all together. I always wondered why that was, but me and Fate chalked it up to Fruition’s great social prowess. Finally, reaching the end of the hall, I came to my room. Fire, sulfur, volcanos and pouring ash came down from the skies and up from the ground. I was Destruction, and it was my purpose to destroy everything.

Every time it was my turn to play the role existence had dealt me, I always remembered the Black Earth. I used to have nightmares about how what it would be like if I was a mortal upon the planet during one of it’s many demises. My room doesn’t help the thoughts of my fear, and rather, over time I’ve grown tired of ending things. Maybe next millennia I’ll turn a new leaf or ask Father Time for a change in positions. Only for a little while, so the bad dreams will go away. So, tonight I’ll settle on my obsidian bed and wrap myself in a blanket of lava, slumbering beneath a sky of lightning, fire, tears and falling rocks.