"the origin of god" (an Atlantean bed-time story for bad kids)

[Jonathan Barlow Gee]

once upon a time there was a being, a sentient hominid very much like us, whom, like you or I, dear friends, was merely a mortal.

one day, while he was strolling through the grass lands of the sub-Saharan savannas, he found a strange sort of monkey, perched high up in the branches of an acacia tree, contemplatively smoking a pipe.

the man, unfamiliar with what sort of monkey this was as well as with what it was doing, having himself never so much as seen either such a monkey, nor any such thing as a pipe, called up to the monkey in the language of the others like himself at that time.

the man said to the monkey, "hey! WTF are you? WTF are you doing up there? WTF is that thing you have in your paw? come down here and let me see what that is, and tell me what you are doing up there at once!" and so the monkey came scrambling down that very instant.

"look bro," said the monkey holding the pipe up to the person. "this is not a pipe. this right here is the good shit. are you ready to handle this? do you think you got the lungs to hot-box with me?"

and so the man said, "yes." and, taking the pipe, with some additional gestural instructions from the monkey, the man proceeded to emulate the monkey's behavior he had seen it do atop the acacia tree.

immediately the man began hallucinating and his mind escaped the confines of his brain. that's when the god of the old monkeys started to f*ck with the god of a new mankind's head.

"yo, now you beholding the cosmos unfolding you've expanded your knowing this plant you must start growing to prove to your brethren that more than them you be knowing start showing them all what I'm about to start flowing, tell all what I tell you, about the true fall awaiting you all:

"this chemical key I now show you, that before others you may go to, the realms beyond eternity, yet it is not for you alone to choose who believing themselves holy will pass through their innermost cortex into a past astral format, although it is beyond even your power now to prevent them from worshipping you.

"you, my creation, are now the first human man. you now know yourself, as such, and that has made you alike us all, for all of us know ourselves as you must also now. you must tell those alike you as much and before them you'll come home to rot like the rest of us. just as, when you are dying, you will return to this spot, so too once you've climbed up to where I'd been sitting up top, just there amidst of the branches of the acacia tree, when you'd stopped, then those alike you will begin to review and to, amidst one another, ponder what next to do, and soon, they too will pursue you to this end, and then, they, alike you will soon, my friend, be equally worthy to exhale at last, and to inhale as true men; free to comprehend the facts in formation that complete the equation and solve this final riddle of mine:

"if existence is meaningless, why does it exist?"

the monkey god then evaporated, leaving the new god of men quite perplexed, ponderous and discombobulated. "WTF just occurred?" the new god man inquired, but realizing he'd gone unheard, aside from by himself, he uttered aloud, "my word!" and realized his own existence.

what happened next can only rightly be compared, by anyone sane, to a nightmare. Having realized his own existence, the man then, in the very next instant, realized all existence around him as well, his existence within existence, the existence of existence within himself alike that outside himself, the identical nature of his constituent natural components to those in the environment around himself, and ultimately he perceived his mind itself as the pinnacle of all prior events leading up to that moment, and he laughed. As his laugh left his lips, the vista around and about him became ripply alike the surface of a pond stirred by a soft gust of chill breeze. In that same instant, the first man-god evaporated from his previous location in existence and in as of yet undone tones intoned an utterance unto the utmost echoless chasm of the cosmos to evoke his innermost essence from within all and thus, he attained simultaneous quantum super-position above all, and began causing operant observer effect upon all, the cosmos that existed then, had existed until then, and that has existed since then, as well as will ever exist until when, at the end, all is nothing again.

at first, the man felt cold as his capillaries dilated and his blood-pressure increased; his heart pumped harder and faster than the previous moment, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, alert. Next, this cold became darkness and the inner-void of his bodily hollowness consumed him. His mind's eye went blind and he felt as though he were falling down an endless depth, a bottomless emptiness, unlit at all, forever he'd fallen and he had yet left forever to fall. And so the soul of the first god-man entered what we've since lovingly called "Hell."

"WTF!" finally his bodiless ego thought to think, and mid-fall he stopped feeling like falling and blinked. "WTF am I?" was his next idea to inquire of the immeasurable shroud of shadow surrounding himself. In that same instant he realized that he now had no "self," or rather, no such bodily thing as what he'd ever called a "self." And it was in that instant also that this first god of men began to panic.

"Help!" he cried out, afloat in utterly ebonite ensconced, apparently unendingly infinite emptiness. "Is this to be what fate is for me for eternity?" this helpless babe freed from its womb of skin was suddenly slapped and awakened from its dream of existing. "am I alone? is there anyone there?"

Time, being relative to space, is not possible to regularly measure in a total vacuum. As the man's thoughts grew grim and doubtful, he felt the cold pang of fear and experienced the passage of time as though, it being of malleable substantial measurability, and relative now to nothing else besides the pace at which his own thoughts and experiences passed, it seemed to occur more slowly. However, no sooner had the man realized just that - the subjectivity of the measurement of time relative to the rate of his own thoughts - than his mind involuntarily began racing across intervals of perplexing pacing and he gradually began to become capable of visualizing his own imagination, projecting before him into the vacuum an at first dim strobing that, upon his realizing himself as its source, and that he could control it himself as well at his will, instantly supersaturated metastatically to crystallize his cold dark cocoon that then itself began to undergo metamorphosis from a pitch dark bottomless cell into a translucent chrysalis, a life-imbuing matrix of interwoven lattices underlying its membranous basis.

Man realized what it meant to be God then; and so he began creating. Across the vast blank black-board of the dark depths, the man began to imagine all sorts of imagery, and there, before him, or such a "him" as there was, they appeared the instant he reckoned them. He rapidly constructed a surrounding palace from memories he carefully recollected one by one. Once he'd recovered every moment of his own existence until then, each event alike its own cubic unit and every one of them accounted for and arranged into its most logical relationship to each other one, the man stood back from his achievements and beheld the ultimate sum of his own works. From outside his whole life  thus, he realized he had only ever even originally existed as a result of having just then imagined himself to have done so. Here, he realized, the only difference between the reality of his perceiving existence then, and his imagining his past existence in a memory now, was the arbitrarily invented and absent at present conceptual construct considered by calling to mind the term "time." At that, again the man laughed, and his laugh shattered his memory castle into countless, perpetually diminishing sized shards, that broke apart into splinters, that split to bits into sparks, that gathered into a spongey meshwork entirely surrounding his central self-concept. Each atomized aspect of all of his memories, spiraling into an endless night alike alight ashes arising from embers aflame, became billions of stars inside billions of galaxies woven into billions of fibrous filaments along a dimensionally singular, super-gravitational, symmetrically looped, isomorphically cyclical, emanational route, travelled along by pulsing flashes of superluminal light that twinkled now here, then there, all across and around the origin of god's mind. "my god," the man's mind thought to itself, "it is all full of so many stars."

Beholding this all as an experience of gasping agape in full awe and with much wonder, the ego of god realized he was only seeing outside of and all around himself the inside of his own brain, and that its electrochemically impulsive neurotransmitters, and the formatting for their natural synaptic cellular structures interiorly storing and intermittently transmitting these coded contents, were not merely identical to such, but in fact were in themselves nothing but an exactly reversed mirror reflection occurring at once, and comprised of the same stuff, as that from which the farthest distant of all the eldest stars were forged, as well, at least, as all the rest, and this being thus, he began to believe that his own thoughts were the cause for those distantly various, pulsed bursts of gravitational lights he'd seen; that his thoughts were even one and the same as those brightly strobing droplets rippling along the unilinear time-stream.

"So, what's next?" the mind of the man who'd become god calmly inquired of the deepest reaches of his own introspection. "Shall I form a hex?" replied all those billions of billions of abstracted alienations of his former self whom he'd envisioned as the resident inhabitant of his own "great works," his karmic castle made from the sands of time now washed away on long forgotten tides, who had then become infinitesimally micro-miniaturized into billions of uniquely individual specimens from billions of various species from billions of different forms of life on billions of planets surrounding the billions of stars in the billions of galaxies, each of these only one axon-dendrite gap within his mental map holographically projecting into nothingness his thoughts as this whole cosmically complex mess.

No sooner had the man's central self-concept, that belief of his own ego being the universally animating will of god infusing meaning into existence, heard this soft yet strangely foreign echo of himself come emanating from an altogether imaginarily created cosmos, in which he had previously, having forgotten himself, imagined he was all that was within and without as one, as well as all alone, then the randomly spontaneous, effervescently shimmering, twinkling tachyon emissions cascading bridges in sparkling arcs from one galactic core black-hole's opposing poles to the next, reconnecting each fractured event to every other's utmost fractioned extents via the fractal branchings of the whole neural net along a temporal cause-way of tempered causality entirely manifesting only his own intent, began to take shape and assume an alien face, a visage becoming, perhaps because being recalled from what was once his own, an oddly familiar, yet currently manifesting as an autonomous self-expression in a yet further inverted reflection, facade unlike any, outside of an image fallen down from above captured only vaguely upon the surface of water, he had ever, even once, imagined. He perceived this conglomeration of cosmic star-dust accumulating into an increasingly identifiable form as he focused it forth from ineffability. Concentrations of similar patterns quickly fused as all collapsed into a specifically selected wave-function and the shining outlines of an architecturally ordered structure arose from these interconnecting enmeshed threaded strands. The man reached out and, behold, he held the tesseract of time itself in his own invisible hand.

Beyond him, in the vast void now once again a totality of blackness, the veil began parting. "No, not yet!" whimperingly whispered the meekly choking last breath of god. Yet it happened nonetheless. Along a horizontal axis twin portals began parting, and the utterly dark void inside of himself began blossoming blindingly open as his own eye-lids parted, and so, the man wept.

As ghastly thin, pale radiation burst into his skull through his gelatinous ocular fluids, his pupils retracted into pinprick-sized puncture-holes, however after a brief while had gone by, he adjusted to his existence again only to discover himself perched atop a high branch in the uppermost foliage of an acacia tree. Further coming to slowly, he came to grips with accepting having realized the fact he was holding a pipe in his hand. Off in the distance, he heard a strange voice crying up toward him in an unfamiliar language. He looked out and some ways off, below himself, he beheld reproaching him a being; a sentient hominid very much like you or I, for they, like us, dear friends, were merely a mortal.

"the origin of god" (an Atlantean bed-time story for bad kids)

a fictional fantasy from the imagination of: Jonathan Gee

was written down by he on this eve of Tuesday, December 3, 2013,

in Tallahassee, Florida, presently the United States of

America, formerly a land, for we who would, to feel free. PEACE.