Introduction

You jolt awake with eyes wide open and breathing heavily. Confused, you look around only to see nothingness. A void. Your gaze goes to your hands, but you cannot see them. They are there; you can feel them, but it is so dark that even your nose is hidden. You can feel that you are floating, but in what? It’s not hot, but it’s not cold either. In fact, it feels like nothing is there. There seems to be absolutely nothing around you.

“Is this space?” You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You gasp. “It must be if there is no sound,” you tell yourself, “but how am I breathing?” This place you are in is very strange. The only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat inside your head. Hours pass and you begin to lose hope. There is nothing you can do to get out of here. Nothing to grab onto, and no one to call for help. “This is it,” you think and close your eyes. “Is this how I die?” You rest peacefully in the void while you cling on the small amount of hope left that something might happen.

Suddenly there is a loud and booming voice in your head, “Hello there, old friend.”

You jolt awake and suddenly see a bright light before you. “Who is that?” you yell out, only hearing yourself in your head. “What do you want?”

Even though there is no sound in the void, the voice somehow hears you and answers, “It is me. You don’t remember much, but don’t worry- you will. Let’s get out of here, things will start to make sense soon.”

The small light in front of you begins to grow in size and brightness, until the light completely surrounds you. You squint, trying to make out anything at all. The light is so intense that you have to cover your eyes. Suddenly the intense brightness disappears, and you find yourself in a meadow. The grass is long and soft between your toes, reaching up to your ankles. There is a soft and warm breeze, blowing through the grass around you. The sky is blue with white, fluffy clouds. In the distance is a large oak tree atop a lone hill. Perplexed, you head in that direction.

The tree is massive. The trunk itself is bigger than the redwood trees you faintly remember seeing as a kid. Even from a distance you see carvings and patterns engraved in the trunk.

“There are plants and animals carved on there,” you mutter, startled when you actually hear your own voice. Other images like planets and galaxies can be found on the tree’s trunk. You continue to head towards the ancient tree, as if it was calling to you.

“I figured this was a better place for you and me to talk.” The voice comes from behind you.

You let out a gasp and quickly turn around. It is that light again, and was floating a few feet away from you. It wasn’t as bright as last time so you can make out a sphere about the size of a basketball. “Who- what are you?” you manage to stutter.

“I am,” I say.

You look confused, “You are what? What the hell are you?”

“I am everything. I am the light, the dark. I am the grass under your feet. I am the tree behind you. I am even you,” I said reassuringly.

“So, you’re God?” you ask, bewildered.

I laugh, “Technically yes, I am what you call God. And you are my apprentice. My child. Together we created the universe that you have called home for so long.”

“Wait,” your brow furrows, “I created the universe?” Suddenly your eyes go wide, “Am I a god too?”

I laugh again, “Yes, but not yet. You are still growing.”

You began to doubt what I am telling you. “But what about my life? My parents?” you began to tear up. “What about them? What about my life? I was just about to graduate college and take my next big step.”

This is always the hardest part of the process. It breaks my heart to see you consumed by this sadness every time. “Your family is a part of you. They helped guide you on your journey. Your life helped shape you to who you are today. With time you will remember where you came from and who you are.”

“What is the point of it all?” you mutter as you wipe away the tears.

“To become a god, you must create the perfect universe. But it takes time and a lot of tries. In fact, that was our 87^th universe we have created.” I chuckled.

“87 universes??” you blurt out in disbelief.

“And it might take another 87 to finally create the perfect one.”

“So, are we about to make another one?” you ask, dread and wonder in your voice.

“Yes."

“If I help make the universe, why was I living in it?” You continue asking questions.

“As a final test, you are placed inside of your universe to live a life. If the universe is perfect, you will not die,” I explain.

You gulped, “Does that mean I died??”

I laugh and begin to make my way towards the large oak tree. “C’mon, follow me little one. Let’s have another go at it.”