It began in the void as a feeling. It was the first feeling, which became something of a thought, which ultimately wasn’t voiced as anything much more than a soundless scream. Full of feeling, but silent, like everything before that had been. 

It was the same kind of scream that was later gifted by the First Being to infants, the kind that means, “I’m here, I’m here! I’m so terribly thrilled and scared to be here at the beginning of all things. Can someone care for me?”

And that’s what it meant to them, in that moment, it held all the feeling and aching with the lack of context, for arms to hold them hadn’t been invented yet. 

And once the First Being was done screaming silently with so much feeling, with that eldritch meaning that didn’t truly mean anything yet, they were met not with the warm arms of a parent and soft coos of reassurance, but with a vast nothingness, and continued silence. 

Existing in the void for something to respond, they waited and waited. Perhaps for a parent to come, a creator, something greater than them, to comfort them, a caretaker. But nothing changed, and they remained the only, one, alone thing that had ever existed. 

Once they realized that they were existence in its entirety, that it was just them, and them alone, in a great vast nothingness, they became fearful, and upset. They became angry and lashed out at nothing, flailing their power in a futile attempt to change something, anything. 

But the void remained as it ever was, vacuous and frightening, and their exertion of will had done nothing. But their attempt at action may not have changed their surroundings, but it had changed something within them. It had given them the spark of an idea and a desire to use action to affect change. Change would be possible, they would make it so. If they were everything, could they not also decide what it was possible to do? They felt strongly that something could change, and needed to. 

They did not know how to make their idea a reality, but they thought hard about it. And liking the sound and act of screaming, but it not being quite right for thinking, they began chattering to themself, talking through ideas and theories to self-soothe, occupy their time, and grow. 

To learn to change something, I have to learn what there is to change, and all there is right now is me. I have to learn myself. 

They chattered, and in doing so began to consider themself, and the strange things they felt. They began to give vague identities to the emotions, and parse out why they felt the way they did, which was hard without anything existing outside yourself for context. 

There was one emotion that the First Being felt above all others, the one that was the loudest part of the scream. They identified that as what could be both their biggest problem and also their greatest motivation. 

There was no word for this emotion in any language at this point in time, as any form of mankind was just a mere, dim sparkle in the consciousness of the First Being, but if it had a word in the modern tongue, it would be loneliness. 

The Being mulled over the feeling as it grew, festered, and tangled within their abstract core. At last they thought: perhaps it is because I am alone. 

And so, for the first time since time began, they expended an effort to do something other than think: they created. 

They poured every thought they thought could mean something, every feeling they had felt that they wanted something else to be able to feel, every hope they held save a few. And borne from this came a second being. 

The First Being became overjoyed, a new emotion, and came to embrace the Second’s consciousness, bombarding it with intense emotions, and a chattering, screaming welcoming, as those were the only thought-sounds that had been created. 

The Second’s presence shrank smaller, condensing, if not in physical space, than in spirit, and remained silent. 

A fluttering feeling of concern filled the First as they held themselves now in a new, reserved quiet, mimicking the Second. They hovered and observed the second being as they both hung in the void, both a part of it and not, but both distinctly separate beings. 

The First felt now an unease, not being used to sharing the void and having company, and for once feeling a wall-of-sorts that they couldn’t get past. Before, they could hear everything, know everything, because they were everything. But now, there was something else, something unknowable. Exciting, frustrating, new. 

The First churned that thought around inside, and as they did began to scream and chatter and prod at the Second. This time, not as aggressively, but more inquisitively and companionably. 

The Second continued to not respond in any form of recognisable communication that the First knew, but the Second did radiate with a small, quiet energy that gave The First a sort of comfort. For the first time, they weren’t alone, and that set the First at ease, and smoothed out the ripples of uncertainty that tremored the void in their wake. 

They spent what could have been an eternity together, or perhaps it lasted only a few milliseconds. With nothing to compare it to, the passage of time seemed like an insignificant and unneeded thing to the First. They were happy to just chatter about the wild ideas running rampant within them. 

Excited about the implications of the Second’s existence for the meaning of change and creation, they asked questions to a silent Second, mulling over the problem, and then promptly answering themselves. 

The First spent that time chattering happily to their silent companion, working out problems that didn’t exist, but could, and theorizing about things that didn’t exist, but could, and maybe…!

They became silent suddenly, considering their Second. 

Are they silent because they are also lonely? They wondered. Could I create something for them? Are they…bored? 

Perhaps a silent companion for them. Perhaps I am too loud. Something calm, something solid. 

The First thought through their myriad of ideas, and found one, something that was definitely solid. But first, it needed something to put it together, to hold it together. And maybe it needed others? So it also didn’t feel alone. 

They decided that they would fill this void to the brim, and make it interesting. They also decided they would make something special, just for their Second. Something just like them for them. 

So, the First created again, for the second time, and they made something abstract: gravity. 

They didn’t feel much difference, with only the potential for the force created. This was temporarily displeasing before they powered through. 

And, The First figured, it would be nice to see what they made, so perhaps something that brought light but could also be a crux for the gravity that was created? 

The First laughed as they created stars, which was a new sound, and new sensations came. Warmth. How nice! And how delightful the light was, what a brilliant idea! They delighted in the idea of each star eventually ending, and created each with a limit to its own self-immolating energy. 

Perhaps after each star snuffs itself out, we can start again? Wouldn’t that be fun? They asked the Second, who existed silently by their side. The First thought with pride how they must be watching. How nice it was to not be alone, even in silence!

The First began to fill the void for the first time with other things, particles that would become rocks. And over time, with guidance from gravity and little nudges from The First, big clumps began to form. They all developed delightfully differently, but similarly, and fell in line eventually, all orbiting around a star. 

When all was more or less settled, The First found one big rock that they were particularly proud of and showed it off proudly to their Second, awaiting eagerly for the approval they knew wouldn’t come, but hoped for. 

And so, let it be known that the first pet in all of existence was a pet rock, and it was the planet Earth. 

The Earth was a gift, and as excited as the First was to see this gift received at first, at the continued silence of the Second they grew discontented again. 

Perhaps it is too boring? Maybe it should still be quiet, but more active? 

The First considered the new planet as it spun on its little, endearing axis. 

Something alive. 

The thought occurred suddenly. 

If I am going to do this, I’m going to work with what I already made, so it can exist and thrive in its surroundings. They looked to the star at the center of this particular galaxy and felt the energy it gave off. Excitement, hopefulness, happiness. 

They set about carving out the planet, filling divots with water, making weather, and crafting organisms. At long last, plants covered the planet, and most of them were green for two reasons: firstly, because when they thought of green for the first time they were beside themself with rapture, wanting much of the universe to be covered in it. This is a natural reaction, green was one of the first colors to come out of a solar flare, and that left a pretty big impression on The First. So when green happened to be a very sun-suitable color for chlorophyll, the life-blood of plants that they were crafting? The First happily made most plants green and tinkered with their creations as they watched with a hyperactive joy as the planet bloomed. 

After a long while of playing with their new project they realized they left their Second lonely. 

They found their Second and proudly showed them their project, and then figuratively sat back and watched and waited for any reaction. 

There was a soft impression of a sound. 

An, “Ah,” soft and divine that seemed to rock the fabric of space. 

The First swirled around their first creation close, hardly believing, hesitantly hovering, breathless without truly needing breath but feeling it all the same. 

“Do you like it?” They asked, nervousness roiling somewhere, everywhere. 

“Beautiful.” 

At the second, soft word spoken not in any language of man or with any audible sound at all, a violent explosion of overwhelming love burst from the First. 

Unintentionally, a few of their ideas in that moment had flown loose from their mind and been given unexpected life. 

The First was aware that something had changed, and reached out to investigate, and found the unintentional creation writhing in the oceans and on the land of their planet. This one, singular building block, based on the cell of a plant, had been given a new form in a living single-celled microorganism.

They didn’t mind, they saw no harm in it, but worried for a moment about the potential of more big emotions knocking loose ideas into the reality of creation. But as they watched these creatures grow and develop, they wondered. 

These were not meant for much originally, but what if they could become something great? Something that could feel this beautiful new feeling that was responsible for knocking them loose? What if they could love? Isn’t that in a way, their right, as something partially born from it?

Delighted again, the First began to reach down and toy with the organisms, giving them complex forms with organs (aren’t organs funny?) and nerves and blood. 

It was an amazingly complex project that the First reveled in. It was both similar and entirely different from anything they had done before. They included their Second in the design and evolution of the different creatures that evolved from the microorganisms. They asked for direction with great delight and deference to their Second, who had begun to communicate slowly and succinctly with what they wanted to see in the growth of life on the planet. 

With each turn of the planet, the First began to see more and more of a difference in personality and opinion between them and their Second. This was only slightly new knowledge, but it still made them feel confused and a bit alienated at times, but they still enjoyed the company and appreciated the Second’s participation. 

This got them thinking, surely there should be creatures that can feel everything we do, but perhaps they should be able to have differences in how they react, think, or behave. 

Yes, those differences make us interesting! If my Second was just like me, that would be just like being with just myself alone again. That would be horrible! I’m sure it will make the creatures happier if they are all a little different. 

The ultimate goal was to make creatures who could experience love, and all these other feelings, and to set them loose on a world where they could all live and delight in their differences, and experience all the beautiful things the world had to offer. 

After all, creatures may have been a slight accident, but they were raised and guided by a hand with love in mind. 

The First made the world full of them, after all, why would you ever want to be lonely? 

They did notice, however, that there were times when their Second would go seek solitude, away from the First and their little pet planet, so the First took this as inspiration and made some animals solitary creatures. Alone and self-dependent in their adulthood, but more or less always able to come together with others of their kind, or coexist and cohabitate with animals of other kinds. 

Regarding their Second fondly from afar they also played with the evolution of social dynamics within animal species, and that was another fun form of creation and manipulation that they were delighted to discover. 

They happily watched their pet project for a while, occasionally joined by their Second in presence and conversation, until one day with a shock they realized that they had given animals nerves to feel a wonderful idea they had about sensations, but The First had no first hand experience with what it was like. They had never inhabited, or made for themselves, a body made of flesh and nerves and joints and bones. 

They watched their animals with a feeling, which was new to them, but not new to the universe: envy. 

It was the first emotion not felt first by the First Being, it had been felt first by the Second, but the First didn’t know that. They had not once considered that there was another creator being in the universe with them, one they had made in their image, given life and power to, a being who resented their creator for it. 

“Look! They are like us!” The First drew their Second over to look at a family of four-legged, furred animals. 

The First laughed and watched two siblings bat at each other in play.

The Second wasn’t looking at the animals, they were watching their creator, and thinking, as they always were. 

“I’m going to make myself a body and go down there.”

“Why?” The Second blurted, their reaction loud in a soundless way, with a rare feeling emanating from their being, something tangled and unfamiliar. 

The First, in the face of the unexpected and unfamiliar emotions was shocked into a temporary and uncharacteristic silence. 

“Because I want to experience my creation up close, and in it? Wouldn’t that be interesting? Do you think I’ll learn something?” They chattered cheerfully, extending feelings of goodwill and excitement to their Second, yet underneath feeling very uncertain, beginning to second guess things they thought they knew were true. Beginning to see the social dynamic between them and their Second, seeing for the first time that their Second was not just something like an accessory to them, or an extension. Something capable, and potentially volatile, an unknown. 

“Don’t you know everything already? What could you learn?” The Second snapped. 

The First felt taken aback for another moment before replying as carelessly as they always had. 

“I-I don’t know everything, that can’t be possible because I don’t know everything about you- and who knows what sensations actually feel like? It’s exciting, and I want to know. I want to know everything. Experience everything.”

The First felt the Second back away. 

“Are you angry? Was it something I said?” The First reached out cautiously, apologetically. 

“You say you don’t know me, and that you want to know everything.”

They waited in space in a nervous silence. 

“Will you stop at nothing until you know everything, control everything? Am I a project to you? Just another piece of you you can’t wait to absorb back into yourself in the end just so you can have another precious ‘experience’?” 

The First hesitated before speaking, but when they finally did their words were frustrated and honest. 

“I… I don’t understand!” The First admitted, for the first time in their existence. 

Usually, when faced with uncertainty it was quickly solved by action based on logic or a delighted whim. This, this they could not see a clear and easy answer to. Like everything about the Second’s existence and ongoing impact, it had begun long before other creation and felt as though it would endure the unfathomable lengths of eternity. 

“Are you regretting me now?” The Second asked. 

“What? No!” The rush of panic overwhelming the First knocked loose another few ideas that had still been in progress into creation, and in the intensity of the moment, they fell, unnoticed. 

“Do you really think we resemble them in any way?” The Second indicated to the same animals they had been watching moments ago. 

The First looked with part of them back at the animals, two primates, siblings of the same mother, from different generations. In the spare moments the First had turned their gaze away, their play fight had become something desperate, something bloody. 

The First watched as the older primate removed his fists, clenched and bloody around a rock from the broken skull of his younger sibling, who was prone on the ground. 

The First extended an awareness and knew in a second that the animal was dead. 

It was just dead, it was just death, the First had invented death, death was good and necessary and natural, it was just one, small animal. So why did this feel profound and scary in a way that nothing but the aching loneliness in the beginning had? 

What was this new thing? The First didn’t know. 

Attention never leaving the younger primate’s corpse, for the first time, the First Being attempts to forget something. 

Forget. Forget. Forget.