All unbearable
fantasy worlds demand a ponderous and senseless creation myth. Why
should Zem, the world of the Hill Cantons differ?
Tell us, oh savant of savants, oh
chanter of lullabies, oh chiseler of gratuities, now that we are deep
into our cups, the origin of this turtle-bound world?
First there was the Void.
Void? Surely nullity could not exist
before World-Matter?
It matters little, of it's Nature we
can not say but that All Void is divided into Three Parts. In the
beginning, tiring of the Space of Demons the Overgod floated into the
Insufferable Void on his great galley.
“What is the measure of my being?”
he asked no one in particular. The Overgod was a restless god,
troubled by his past of toil and tribulation and overeager for
evolution. After listening to the ungrateful pattering and
never-ending sideways stories of the Void only for answer he became
impatient. “I must begin my work again,” he said to the
poor-listening Void.
The Overgod began to toil. Great balls
of burning vapor he hurled into the reaches of the Void, who bothered
not to pause in story even. Around these balls he spun smaller balls
of rock, metal, ice and gas. Great rings he placed here and there and
span them all.
Enough with the old wives tales,
man.
And in all that creation the Overgod
grew frustrated and weary. “This is but the same as before. My work
is thankless and jejune.” In his weariness he invented Drink in order to
care not.
And the Overgod drank and drank and
drank.
And soon he was joyous, dancing upon his
creations in defiance. “I can take all you motherfuckers,” he
roared before slipping off the shoulders of a gas giant. And then he
slept for a great aeon and Drink split and covered many of the rocks.
And he slept and slept and in those
wet, yeasty places grew Ocean.
When Overgod woke, his head felt
smitten. “What have I done with my Drink?” he muttered piteously
and his weariness came again.
“I crave sensation,” he mused to
the newly-cowed Void. So he divided himself into Man and Woman and
Both and he/she/them loved themselves in countless couplings. And the
Overgod(s) begat other gods, the Little Gods.
Tiring of this and marveling at the
wonder of his many offspring, he reformed and watched them in their
dance for a great while.
But even this became stale, the staging
too familiar and circular, the tales too predictable and then he
created the Weird and the Dialectic that things would always change
and not-change and then change again anew throughout the ages. Now
pleased with his great work, a complicated, terrible and beautiful
thing, he invented Drink again.
And again he drank and drank and slept
and slept. And the Little Gods begat even littler gods and demons
even and all fought and drank and stole and loved and lived again and
again. And such is where our world in our time began.
There is something missing old man.
Why do you shrug so?
Ale co se delas? (Old Pahr: “But what
can you do?”)
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