Interlude 2: Heaven

Procreative activity is usually a pleasurable endeavor.  At least for those involved and even for those on the periphery.  From this generalized statement, a deduction can be made – the greater the quantity of procreation, the greater the pleasure.  This was the attraction of a certain Locus within the Aether.  It exuded an aura of pleasure and ecstasy that pervaded those ensconced within or even residing nearby.  And procreative activity usually involves wombs.  Which is what this locus was – a womb.  A uterus where genesis on a massive scale occurred.  A place where the Seeds of Creation were fertilized by the propitious churning of certain Manifolds.  Then, with proper nurturing and care, they burst forth . . . spawning new realities.  The procreation of Universes occurred in this place.  It was called a Genesis Point and sometimes was simply referred to as “The Mother.”

An added benefit conferred by this location was safety.  The assumption can be made that the occupant of a womb feels safe. This is an inherent feature of places of gestation.  Indeed, we humans expend an inordinate quantity of time and effort trying to get back in, for one reason or another.  Even building artificial wombs for the occasional retreat.  And immortal beings want to be safe.  This lies at the top of their list of priorities.  Safety first, then pleasure.  The First-Born built their enclave alongside this special locus and blissfully existed, protected from the negative probabilities of normal Universes, i.e., gamma-ray bursts, dark energy inversions, and the like.  In the Aether, there are no comparable extraneous events.  This is what the First-Born perceived. 

And, by definition, this locus was truly eternal.  Not ephemeral like Universes, expanding and contracting, and so forth.   For a location located in a timeless place, a place without the formal instrumentalities of Time as we know it is unquestionably eternal.  And those inhabitants who abided there did so in endless secure pleasure.  The First-Born of the Progenitor resided there for a time.  Most of them.  It was Heaven.

The Genesis Point provided an additional benefit.  It delivered information . . . all information.  Why?  Because the threads of space-time are never severed, never cut.  The offshoot Universes remain tethered by an umbilical cord, which permanently bonds the young Universes, delivering all information.  Every event, every action, every motion, manifests instantly back to “The Mother.”  Comparable to a spider on a web, she feels every vibration.  The First-Born learned how to tap these lines of communication.  Eavesdrop on everything.  As a consequence, the location became an observation post.  Very advantageous to those Elders whose predilection it was to observe.  It can be said they were voyeurs.  Voyeurs on a truly universal scale. The lesser beings engaged in this mundane task. They were the all-knowing ones.  They analyzed and compared the actual to the Natural Way.  The Divine Order of Things.  The intended trajectory designed to promote maximal health and well-being for the Progenitor.   Of course, Eternity is always the objective. 

 Another reason for this Grand Emigration dealt with the nature of Eternity itself.   The fact that, given time, all things become probable.  Strike that.  All things, every possibility becomes one hundred percent inevitable.  The impossible becomes possible.  Therefore, termination becomes a certainty.  Eternity guarantees endings.  And the ending of the Progenitor, and worse – themselves, was an intolerable thought.  Anathema.  This is the paradox of infinity.  And this is one of the quandaries the First-Born contemplated.

An interval lapsed, an age, an epoch; length of time had little meaning.  In truth, length itself has little meaning in a realm of Multi-Space.  Rare was there heard a discordant thought, a disharmonious chord in this concert of bliss.  But a dissonant note was played.  An atonal chord.  In a rhapsody of perfect harmony, the single discord predominates. Becomes the central focus.  All turned to observe the errant player. 

It was the brash young Observer, the one who first noted the aforementioned imbalances, “Corrective procedures have been implemented.  States of disequilibrium persist.  This, we continue to observe.” 

This was more than just a wrong note.  This was a screech on the blackboard.  The harmony of the symphony ceased.  The shocked players put down their instruments and became silent.  For this was unprecedented.  The will of the Gods had never before been abrogated.

Flashes and auroras illuminated the locus.  Shadowy effulgences rippled through the darkness.  But the silence continued as an analysis of all things began.  All data, all information, all knowledge from the beginning of time, from the initial burst.  All that had been transmitted to the Genesis Point was reanalyzed.  A situation of incomplete knowledge existed.  Something was missing.  The all-knowing did not know all.      

Presences began to exit the Locus.  They were the first to sense the probability, the hint of a possibility, that something ominous was afoot.  And there is nothing more frightening than the unknown.  The probability of negative consequences was no longer zero.

Chaos and panic swirled.  Inchoate thoughts and partial cognition reverberated.  Intimations of mortality flickered.  Their Presences emanated:

“This cannot . . .”

“Procedures were implemented . . .”

“We have commanded . . . extended ourselves . . . rectification was applied.”

The younger awarenesses were the first to discern.  For they were the workers.  The ones out there in the trenches, doing the will of the Omniscient.  They were the Observers, the Implementers, and the Analyzers.  They knew all in their Universe, the place of their birth.  But they did not know all in the Aether.  An error in judgment was made.  An error of hubris.  As a consequence, they were no longer secure. 

  After careful consideration, analysis, and observation, a simple question was posed, "How can this be?" 

Upon further deduction, only one answer would suffice: "There is something else out there.  Something sentient.  Another Presence, and it is tampering with our home Universe, the Progenitor."