I swing my arm to the right, mountains form. I swing my arm to the left, rivers flow. This is my life, the job of the creator. I stand atop of a celestial fortress the wind is at my knees. My every command creates life and environments, and then I think what is my life? My sole existence is to create the lives of others. Am I just a birthing mother set on this planet to create others? Can I not create my own happiness? Then I determine, I cannot. This is not my job. Maybe I exaggerated a little. I cannot create mountains or rivers.
I create the plane for which the slug roams. A fertile expanse slimed by the very being. The organic matter under the organism that is coated by it. I wonder, is this my best work? A slug, a pest to the common gardener.
But I think, this must be my duty in life. I have been assigned the job of the creator, I must fulfill this task. The bat roams in a cave, but what type of cave? Is it damp or dry? Who can I ask these questions? Was I created? If so, by whom? So many questions. They must apparently go unanswered.
M y life is boring. I spend my day in a cubicle, the plastic confines that embrace me, give me a hug to support my job. I have a desk mate, Carl. He is loud, but fun. His jokes keep me occupied. I have been working for the same corporation for twenty years and with a rare promotion. I was told my performance was sub par. The job of a creator was sub par? I had to nod and accept it. I guess the land on which a slug slimes is a sub par terrain. I don’t think so. Everyone of our creations is sacred in their own way. At least that’s what I think. Carl, with a less intelligent thought tells me what I do is “dope.” At least I know I have some conviction, Carl approves.
The company is called Landtech, we specialize in all the correct fixings for organisms surviving in today’s environment. Yes, quite broad I know. I am a Creator I, the base level creator. The CEO is an advanced mammal creator on top of other financial responsibilities for the corporation. He creates the personalities of humans, along with dolphins, primates and, well, any other mammal.
Carl is a bacterial creator, specialize in Staphylococcus species. His job is easy, the bastard gets to cruise in at 9:30am and spend maybe two hours a day creating bacteria. I was recently promoted to multicellular creator a month ago. Carl hoots and shouts when he creates a new organism with greater than or equal to 2.8 million base pairs of genomic DNA, when I’m stuck creating organisms with well over that. He doesn’t know how easy he has it, he’s just a Creator, but at least he’s entertaining.
So I wonder my role, occasionally glancing over to Carl as he’s scanning Wikipedia for results to his who killed John Lennon question. I have to take my job seriously, I’m a creator!