Genesis – A Daily Picspiration Post
In the beginning there was nothing but darkness and in the midst of that darkness a seed ship serenely floated. The ship was immense in size – enormous even by seed ship standards. It was white and bell shaped and within it resides four hundred crew members. Smaller ships were docked around the seed ship’s surface. They formed an outer ring of escape pods, scouting pods, and assault pods. The seed ship was named Genesis.
Cabin 417. The room was clothed in darkness. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we saw that the room was austere – containing only a single bed, a white dresser, a digital clock, and a square table with foldable legs. On the bed lay two people.
Jeremiah turned to his side and propped his head on his elbow. Beside him was a girl with strawberry blonde hair and amber coloured eyes. Both of them were naked beneath the thick, grey blanket. The girl, Rebekah, studied Jeremiah’s face with a small smile snugged on her lips.
“We’re twenty four hours away from C-Day,” Jeremiah says. “You excited?”
Rebekah’s gazed moved to the high ceiling. The smile on her lips grew bigger. “Excited is an understatement, Miah,” she answered. “For a hundred years our people have worked in this ship. Heck, I grew up here watching my parents immerse themselves in their respective fields of study. All of those research, those sleepless nights, the ceaseless working, all of the previous generations of seeders, they all lead to tomorrow. Believe me, there’s no word for how I’m feeling.”
Jeremiah laughed. “Yep, you’re excited.” He then leaned closer towards Rebekah and planted a kiss on her lips.
Like ghosts, we floated ten doors to the right of Jeremiah’s room to Cabin 427. Our merged consciousness passed through the white walls to the inside of the room. Darkness, too, lay dominant within 427. The occupant of the room, Marco, was on the floor in a fetal position by the corner of the room. Scattered around the room were various documents filled with texts and graphs and scribbled notes. A laptop sat on the bed and its screen, illuminating a part of the dark room with a blue glow, displayed a video running on loop. It showed the darkness of space and in the heart of that darkness a bright explosion occurred.
We turned our attention to the walls filled with scribbles of formulas and equations. On the left wall the words “We are not gods” were written in thick, bold letters. Pinned on the ceiling were printed out images of the ten leaders of Genesis. The word “blasphemers” was written beneath their pictures.
Marco, whose sanity was on the threshold of collapse, mumbled to himself a pray made up of incomprehensible words. His left hand tightly gripped a laser knife while his other hand held a rosary made up of metal beads. It was currently t-minus twenty hours until C-Day. Marco ran the plan in his head for the nth time.
We sank down to the floor. We fell deeper and deeper into Genesis. All around us we caught glimpses of the ship’s interior, we snatched fragments of conversions, and we felt the same tension from everyone on board. Finally we reached our destination. We found ourselves in a large room that spanned the entire length of Genesis. The room had pristine white floors and was brightly lit by lights that lined the high ceiling. Rows of glass vats lay at regular intervals across the room. They were of varying sizes. Some vats stood no taller than three feet while some were twice as big as a full grown man. Inside each one we could see dark shapes floating in a thick, green liquid. Tubes were attached to them.
All around us were men and women in white lab coats. They were grouped into three and each group closely monitored the vats and the things they held inside. Not far from us were three conversing scientists. We drifted towards them closer and closer until we could hear their dialogue.
“…can’t sleep properly,” the one in the middle said. He had a bald head and a pair of rimless glasses sat on his hooked nose. He was a head taller than the other two. In the palm of his hand sat a hologram of a list of names. He scrolled through it slowly. The name “Max” was printed in black on the right breast of his lab coat.
“Johnny’s turning a year old tomorrow right?” The man standing on Max’s right asked before taking a sip from his coffee. Timothy was printed on his lab coat.
Max nodded and answered, “Yeah. Damn kid won’t stop crying.”
The glass vat they were observing contained a hairless creature with long, sharp nails. Mark, the man on Max’s left, walked towards the vat and entered a few commands in the console.
“Regulating Temperature” an electronic voice said.
“Your son’s a special kid,” Mark said, a stick of cigarette dangled lazily in his lips, the grey smoke from its tip snaked its way up and up into the ventilation in the ceiling.
“Yeah? Why’s that? Because he’ll be celebrating his birthday the same day we’ll be attempting to create a planet?” Max ticked off a name from his list. The three scientists move to a different glass vat.
Mark sucked in a lungful of smoke as he nodded in reply.
“I don’t believe in that kind of mambo-jambo,” said Max, “He’ll be special if he makes himself special.”
Mark blew rings of smoke into the air which we followed. We ascended one floor up. The scientists below continued their conversation and their inventory.
“I have checked, double checked, triple checked, and quadruple checked all of them,” Sim spun his chair to face his supervisor. “They’re all there.”
Mary Elizabeth was a stern looking woman. She had her hair tightly and neatly tied up in a ponytail and her lips were set in a straight line. Her eyes, jade green in colour, stared unblinking on the huge computer monitor behind Sim.
The screen was filled with nothing but 1’s and 0’s. They moved in a straight line from the left side of the screen to the right. Mary Elizabeth sighed.
“There are no second chances tomorrow, Sim. There is no space for errors. C-Day needs to be executed perfectly. You are the chief programmer. All of these falls on your shoulders, skinny as they may be.” Mary Elizabeth’s eyes missed nothing. They scanned every part of the binary code.
Sim flashed a smile. “Boss, trust me, every abstract emotion we’ve come up with are all here. I personally fetched them from all of our programmers. We have love and hate, pity and anger, envy and lust. They. Are. All. Here.” Sim waved a hand across the monitor.
The scene around us rippled and dissolved and melted away into a new scene. We found ourselves in one of Genesis’ simulation rooms. Standing in the center of the room was a man dressed in a white overalls stained with many colours. He held in his hand a holographic control pad. He inputted a couple of commands and bright lights started to explode from above the man. We shielded our eyes from the magnificent luminescence. The light weakened to a more tolerable degree and we opened our eyes once more. The man marvelled at his creation. We saw stars being birthed from within the darkness. The stars grew in size until they burst and in each one of them came out flying birds of varying colours and sizes. All of them sang in unison–the harmony of their song filled the room. They glided and dove and a rainbow of colours trailed from the tips of their wings. We watched as the darkness was slowly eaten away by song and colours. The symphony of light and sound fed our senses.
The man entered another command and everything shattered into a million pieces. They turned into stardust and we were showered by them. They dissolved and eventually disappeared and darkness started to settle once more.
“That’ll do,” the man said with a smile.
In a blink of an eye we were once again out in the darkness of space. The seed ship, Genesis, floated ponderously before us. Its enormity and the scope of its purpose overwhelmed us. In the darkness of space we waited. Our creation was ten hours away.