Toy Room

Splitting into tiny pieces, naked to the invisible eye, the most powerful microscopes straining to catch a glimpse. Coming back together, stitching the atoms into singular holes. A room in the universe, vast, expansive, stretching as far as the eye could see, and yet, it did not exist at all. No one could find it. Humans, with all their machines, all their technology, even at its peak before the Eternity Event, before they returned to the Naturals, they travelled through the spot, and saw nothing. The creature knew all this, it was not concerned, it had no cause for worry. Its role was simple. It was to sit in this room in the far edges of the universe, and create and destroy atoms. Splitting each one into tiny atom sized pieces. And stitching them all back together. The smell of the winds from heaven flew through this place. When the humans came past in their clunky metal ships, some were driven mad, others thought they had been delivered prophecies, which was the same thing. Apples, purest, sweetest, anywhere in the universe. Made him think about the Tempting Apple, the one that had forced them down, had led to their fall. The creature had seen it once. Bright red, as if all of the color red came from this one apple. Maybe it did. Atoms worked in strange ways. Nothing was heard but tiny pops, and if you listened closely, explosions, as atoms were destroyed over and over again. Everything was dark, but for the creature, which was the only one that could see in this place. But seeing is a matter of perspective. Sometimes, it does not require eyes. Just vision. It had been placed in this spot after existence came into being, it had been housed with the others, incubated as they developed. Some of them remembered, some didn’t. The one that saw time had forgotten. For it, time only existed after it was popped into The Clock Room. It didn’t see the reality of its own existence. Each was driven by a purpose, by a thing it found passion in. The creature in this sphere of existence watched over atoms, their destruction, their creation. Humans at this point in time were primitive creatures. They could only put together the atoms, honestly, that was as simple as one plus one.

Bam. whoosh.

Explosion as the atoms danced to the commands of the long, bony, spiked fingers. Destroyed. Pieces, shards flying everywhere, to the far reaches of the universe, to start their own journeys. Whoosh as ones that had fulfilled their purpose came back, to be created anew, turned into different beings, to be recycled, reborn, reused.

The creature played with the atoms, and occasionally looked up, black, gaping eyes seeing into universes, looking at life beings, seeing what their progress on exploring atoms was. Its long fingers snapped and clamped, atoms dancing to its tune as a choir to a choirmaster. An orchestra, a symphony of beautiful, haunting music. Everything black as night.