December 10, 2009

An… eh time ago in a generally incomprehensible time.

First, there was the universe. Down the hall and to the left there was the universe’s kitchen. Opposite is the bathroom, in case you need to go. This is going to be one long story. I’ll wait.

So, the kitchen. This kitchen is vast and incomprehensible. Get used to that word it will be coming up a lot. The dimensions of the room mean if you detached it from the hall and covered it in fur it would look like a mouse. The kitchen already had a tail. It didn’t squeak but if it did it wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Do not assume it was a mouse however. It was only like unto a mouse without actually being a mouse.

The layout of room is similarly incomprehensible. It is eternally shifting, no two set ups ever being the same which is considering it’s a kitchen and there’s only so many variations on your basic kitchen appliances. It probably helps that the appliances don’t comply with basic geometry. Or that they aren’t basic kitchen appliances. These are the tools with which one creates creation. Though not creation as a whole, the universe and what not. No, that’s rented. Rented incomprehensibly.

At the risk of pulling a Tolkein and over describing this kitchen, a handy illustration of the room has been provided. You may care to note it is done as a paint by numbers. In the future, the present’s future, not the future’s future as the future already does, and who am I to predict what will happen in the future’s future, but in the future this is the universal standard for illustrations. It encourages creativity and keeps the human mind active. There are some failings with the system as all the numbers are the same colour, ‘anything you want’, and it leaves a lot of people quite stumped.

What is important to take away is this is no ordinary human kitchen like your own. You may find an oven, and a grill, a sink, a fridge, a toilet, a freezer, a draw of cutlery, plates and cups but none of these are for the purposes you would use them. The fridge may contain frozen stars, the oven may be used to bake nebula, the cutlery could be used to carve out minds from the infinite cosmos. The cups may contain water to drink while you work.

Just to remind you, the kitchen isn’t a mouse.

In this kitchen work the four Old Chefs. These are the minders of everything, building and cooking whatever comes to them and giving life and order to all. The pay is all right and they enjoy their work even if the hours are somewhat long. They get along with one another and sometimes go for drinks after work. The problem here is that time does not apply to them and their work hours are all eternity, and thus like a physician’s cat they are both working and not at all times forever and never at once.

The first of the Old Chefs is Azerothy, The Fulcrum Of The Kitchen is the boss. He is an endless mass of eyes squeezed into a white jacket, reaching out with fingers of pupils to grip his tools between retinas and irises. He observes over all and shouts his orders through his tear ducts. Never once does he blink, for if he did the recipe could be ruined in the time it takes for his eternal ocular organs to blink once. Passionate for his work, yet uninterested in the results, all he cares about is the process.

The second is Yog-Shuvoff, The Really Big Guy. His form occupies all conceivable space and many inconceivable ones, existing everywhere at once. He assists as the second in charge, being where Azerothy can only see and working on all projects at the same time. Things resembling muscles move the things resembling flesh to sieve comets and oceans as all life passes through his immaterial yet very real shape. He spoke loud through his infinite mouths as he hurried to finish before the never coming deadline.

Then the third was Shub’Niftyhat, That Guy With The Hat We Liked. A creature resembling an amoeba with too many legs, he ran through the kitchen in a never ending rush, always working on his latest brilliant idea with plans ever forming in his mind. Resting upon what could be called a head was what would later be known as a top hat, a source of contention between him and Azerothy who demanded strict dress code rules.

Last was Nyaralohtapdance, The Mad Saxophonist. What first appeared as an ordinary human male opened his jacket to reveal a tunnel through his chest that went on forever and no skin across his stomach. Watching through sunglasses fused to the bone of his skin he flipped solar systems in his pan and whistled through teeth made of rainbows as he worked. At weekends he played in a small jazz band at a club just down the road. He hated and loved with the same breath.

So the Old Chefs worked to create everything. But they were not the only ones in the kitchen, for long ago and much later they took upon them two Trainees, to whom they taught they secrets and techniques and who in turn helped them prepare their dishes of existence and make life. Not even they knew how they arrived there, but these two Trainees knew dark things and plotted great schemes.

The first Trainee was Cat’Thilli, The Dude Who Doth Say Eyyy. Huge and scaled he bore the shape of some great ape, with mighty wings like unto bats sprouting from his back and his face resembled that of a squid, tentacles covering what may be a mouth as he surveyed through two yellow snake eyes and heard through his adorable furry cat ears. In place of the uniform he wore a leather jacket made from one of every creature. It was his job to bake Life.

The other Trainee was Righton, That Fish Guy. Great unblinking eyes and a giant gaping maw through which he gasped laboured breaths made what passed for a face, and his sleek lizard body gave way to a writhing mass of tentacles and fins. He was in charge of clean up, throwing away failed creation though secretly he drank what liquids he could. Dutifully he followed Cat’Thilli whom he hated more than his lowly position and dreamed of breaking free. He also made tuna.

And then there was the great flaw of the kitchen, the very first thing made by the Old Chefs and that which the Trainees looked upon with jealousy every day. Them Elder Rubber Plant Thingies With The Eyes That Sand In A Man’s Voice But All Had Girl’s Name And Ate That Guy Carl. We Liked Carl. He Was Cool. Had A Beard…. Damn Rubber Plant Thingies. They were placed upon a shelf to watch over the kitchen as a reminder to all of the Sin of Consciousness. They were mindless and hateful, and destroyed whatever they could from their immobile platform and they sang of their spite at all that could hear them.

Now that the scene is set, there is one specific time that matters most to us now. One split instance of all time that would come to seen as the most important moment ever by a small group of beings for whom life was a mistake.

It was the day Cat’Thilli baked the Cat-Muffins…


2 Responses to “Genesis”

  1. Brittney said

    This is GENIUS. I loved it. I’m thinking you should write my next book what do you say?

  2. voidseraph said

    And so the first chapter has been written.

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