The Creation

Thought observed as Weaver began to pluck at the Filament. Thought had taken its time telling its children of where it had been, and what had happened before them, and had done its best to share with them the visions of the dancing bodies and energy, but learnt the sting of disappointment when Weaver and Troubadour didn’t seem to understand. For Thought, those visions had been so clear, as clear as its children before it now, floating in the endless light of their bubble, and it confused and dismayed Thought that they couldn’t see it too. So, with the quiet hum of the Filament and the light of the bubble surrounding them, Thought endeavored to teach the children how to make the visions themselves.

So now, Thought observed as Weaver reached out to pluck at the Filament, eliciting from it a discordant and halting series of notes. Thought reached out to touch Weaver’s mind and reassured them, encouraging them to focus their attention and imagine the thing they wished to create. Weaver tried again, and again, and again, but no chords or harmonies came. The notes sang out hollow. Weaver paused and looked to Thought, a query in their mind.

I am to create?

Thought gave Weaver a gentle nudge, guiding their attention back towards the Filament.

Look deeper. Envision what you wish to create. Find inspiration within. If the music does not call to you, perhaps something else will.

Thought sensed a new determination within Weaver; a thickening of their resolve. Thought observed as Weaver reached out to the Filament once more, as they had so many times already. But this time Weaver did not pluck, but tug.

I will create.

Weaver continued to tug, drawing the strings of the Filament forth, and began to twist and wind them. Thought watched on, pride and amazement welling up within, as Weaver continued to tug and twist and wind, and long strands of substance began to take shape. Weaver tugged and twisted and wound, and the strands grew on and on and on, coiling and intertwining. An energy began to build within Thought, like tingling static deep within its being, as pride and amazement turned to excitement. Thought watched and buzzed as Weaver began to weave; as the chords of the Filament were spun into cords of fabric.

Chords into cords, and the tapestry of the universe took shape.

Thought watched on ecstatically as Weaver stretched out into their new universe, twisting and threading through the fabric to become as much a part of the tapestry as the Filament and the chords and the cords themselves, much as Thought had once made home in the bubble so long ago. As Weaver created and became the universe, Thought turned its attention to Troubadour, pride spilling out around them, creating a crackling buzz of energy.

You see? There is so much for us to do.

What is my part?

Weaver has created the stage. Now you must create the music.

And what then?

The bodies will dance to your music.

Thought and Troubadour gazed out into the vast and empty universe. It occurred to Thought that it had, unknowingly, given Weaver the knack for creation. When Weaver began to tug and weave, they began the process of creation as Thought had once before; with great and effortless ease. Thought began to wonder if Troubadour had received their own gift, the knack for music. As Thought contemplated this, it felt a trepidation in Troubadour and reached out to comfort them.

I will show you.

Troubadour watched as their creator reached for the Filament and began to pluck, and Thought could feel the quiet, pulsing hum within them as if their very being resonated with the music. Sensing this resonance, Thought gradually stopped plucking and guided Troubadour towards the Filament. Trepidation melted away as the child took over, strumming away at the Filament with a sudden determination. Thought observed as Troubadour played, becoming lost in the music as Thought and even Void had before. But this time Thought sensed that the connection was deeper. It watched as Troubadour strummed and strummed, mesmerized by their own music. Slowly but surely, a crackling excitement began to fill the space of their nascent universe, as tiny motes of energy sparked into existence.

Keep going.

Thought’s elation was palpable in the space around the pair, but the encouragement was neither felt nor heard. Troubadour was enthralled as they continued to play, the sparkling and crackling energy continuing to form within the universe, when suddenly a bright and thunderous explosion bloomed, sending ripples through the fabric of the universe as it occurred. The whole universe, as if a single point, erupted with activity.

And so a new universe was born.