The Observer

In the beginning, there was only darkness. Nothing existed but the chaos and the seemingly eternal void that was once the universe. A singularity. But unbeknownst to this unwitting mote of darkness, there came a crack in the fabric of reality. In a mere instant, the egg erupted in a violent burst of compressed heat, matter, and spacetime. The explosion of pure energy seemed to last for eternity.

But then, within an infinitesimal fraction of a second,

…

…

…

I came to be. 

Before I was even aware of my own consciousness, a blinding, destructive cosmic explosion rang out into the depths of the abyss. The explosion spread throughout the whole universe, forming interstellar clouds of dust and gas. They stayed there, floating motionlessly in the middle of the vast space. Gradually, they formed clusters of nebulae, creating planets, solar systems, then discs of galaxies… It would have been a magnificent sight for any sentient being, but alas I was the only one to regard its full majesty.

Emotions meant nothing to me then, and neither did time. I merely observed with listlessness the birth of the universe for eons. Besides observing, I did nothing else; I perceived every single event that happened, but did nothing, as I was formless, and had no tangible means of interacting with the universe. I was but a spectator of time, trapped in a liminal space between planes of existence and consciousness.

Time. It held no power over me, for I existed beyond its constraints, and my perception of it was fluid. My consciousness could process every single detail that happened within the ever-expanding confines of space, though its speed was dependent on my desire to focus on a particular event. If I wanted to watch the agonizing process of gasses and molecules collapsing into each other, I could, and I would not have complained. Thus was the price of omniscience, though I must admit, the view will always compensate for such tedium. 

And I watched with particular interest of such an event. A solar nebula began to form from a massive cloud of dust and gas, superheating and condensing into a spinning ball of nuclear fusion. Then, rocks and ice followed suit, orbiting its new source of radiating heat. Their surfaces began to reshape and adjust to this lingering genesis of this particular star system.

I have taken an interest in this solar system, and I could foresee a rather… intriguing future in one of its planets; the third planet away from the sun. I witnessed mountains of fire erupting and forming, showing me its true potential for destruction. The first emotion I had ever felt, as best described in mortal terms, was wonder. 

I found the violent volcanic activity beautiful, though I did not know why. The delightful sight of the solid form that was the result of molten liquid and gas condensed and cooled. The surface of Earth, which I had taken the liberty to give such a simple name, began to form as more of it cooled down. As I was marveling at the beauty of these solid planets, tremendous rocks hurtled into the earth and began to bombard its surface, sparing not a single inch of the planet from the assault. 

I felt sadness and overprotectiveness, but most of all, dread. I wanted to stop the meteors, to prevent them from ruining my precious Earth. But they never stopped. If I had the capability to do so, I might have wept for centuries.

Around four of Earth’s orbital cycles later, the bombardment stopped, and it left me with sorrow and disappointment, for it was no longer beautiful, but I sensed something coming. 

Due to the heat brought by the destruction, the surface of the Earth began to reshape and reform, and mountains of molten rock rose from the ground and began sprouting soot, flames, and molten rock from their rigid brims. I no longer felt bad for the suffering the Earth had to endure, but instead felt pleasure for it, for the extreme makeover might have been worth what would happen next. 

I decided to divert most of my attention from the growth of the rest of the universe, for my interest had grown as I watched the Earth begin to form landscapes naturally. Immense mounds of rock and dirt towered over the vast sea and the single piece of land the former had surrounded. Climate changes came and went, and yet it had never gotten "old" to me. What was thousands of millennia felt like minutes to me; day came as quickly as night came in a matter of seconds. 

But then, something caught my eye, something that would have been an insignificant mote within an immense field of particles if I had not focused my attention on this planet. I shifted my attention even more, observing the blossoming of something new.

Within the depths of the all-encompassing ocean, something stirred. This was something that eluded my attention, though I theorize that molecules began to form complexities, clumping together to form autonomous movement. A single cellular being--no, a whole new wonder of the world was beginning to thrive. 

Like its countless brethren, this speck of life danced around the warm, geothermal fluids that drenched the planet, swimming aimlessly in the massive ocean. I sensed a kinship with these creatures; like me, they were birthed in a physical world, yet had no real means of interacting with it. Though, that might be where our similarities end.

The new species began to quiver and split, forming clusters that tessellated into complex shapes and patterns. Gone were the days they dreamt of nothingness, as they eventually evolved into multicellular underwater beings. Unexpected changes occurred, and the intricate stochasticities of life took shape. Some with tentacles to grab prey, and some grew larger fins to escape predators. It was wild, chaotic, a world where creatures either hid or preyed upon each other. That was when I learned the order of nature. 

I continued my watch. Alone.

The animals eventually braved the dry land, enjoying its bounty of brief respite. Plantlife had begun to thrive as well. So did the creatures. Dry and empty lands spread plant life everywhere habitable, and the population of creatures flourished. I observed the creatures growing from single-celled beings to a dominant reptilian race, along with some other mammalian species. The laws of nature still applied: the strong devoured the weak to survive. The weak, on the other hand, ran and hid in fear. 

Life remained a quandary - how does one live, if all one does is eat, procreate, and die? What is the meaning of such an existence? I began to question the purpose of life, though at the time I neglected to question my own. 

A meteor arrived. Another agent of violent destruction. This time, it was alone, but its potential destructive power was unmatched. Like millions of orbits ago, I felt the same dread that had washed over me when the shower had bombarded the young Earth, but I had become experienced in witnessing death. I soon accepted the inevitable as I watched it obliterate every creature unlucky enough to be within the blast radius. The large reptilian species were exterminated, leaving the smaller ones behind. With their predators wiped out, these smaller creatures dominated the land.

Life went on.

Millions of years passed again, and I had never gotten bored of observing the peculiar behavior of those creatures inhabiting my precious Earth for generations, a world that I had taken the liberty to claim and focus on; a world that I had nothing to do with. Once again, I pondered the reason for their existence--much like their ancestors, all they could do was survive and wither away. What was the purpose of their existence? This time, I began to ponder my own. How different am I from these creatures, really? Perhaps I might be lesser than these creatures, who at least were able to interact with the world around them. I, on the other hand, had done nothing to observe. Omniscience, perhaps, might have its limitations, as it could not answer these questions that flowed into my consciousness. Nevertheless, I continued to watch nature take its course. Evolution was as inevitable as the wanton destruction that once plagued the earth. Little did I know, an interesting twist was about to occur. 

A species of hairy, multi-limbed creatures had foregone their quadrupedal life and began to walk on just two hind legs, allowing for easier manipulation of their upper limbs. To my surprise, one such creature had stumbled upon fire. Not from lightning nor volcanic activity, but a controlled manipulation of a primordial flame. It provided them warmth, protection from enemies, and allowed them to heat food that eliminated harmful bacteria. With a sudden stroke of genius, this species had invented. Innovated. Created. This was unprecedented, for I had the notion that the purpose of existence was simply to survive and resign to oblivion. For the first time in my observations, I witnessed a new marvel that was birthed from intention.

Eventually, the sapient species shifted from a nomadic life of survival to a sedentary one, building shelters and cultivating land. Civilization formed, and these wondrous creatures shed their hardy hunter-gatherer lifestyle for a more comfortable one. One of stability and consistency. Predators were no longer a looming threat, and survival became a right rather than a privilege. Humanity thrived. Humans, who manipulated and dominated their surroundings. Humans, who became the apex species of their environment. Humanity. I liked that word.

How spectacular, I thought, that a small change in their adaptation had evolved a once primitive species, exponentially enhancing their survival. What was it that sparked this change? The need for adaptation in living beings is crucial--birds evolved wings to gain an advantage over those who could not fly; predators developed unique senses to spot prey easily; humans, on the other hand, changed their mode of travel, and evolved with more complex brains to compute new ways to survive. They lacked claws nor wings nor fangs nor shell, and yet they dominated the others.

Inspired by humanity’s desire to change the world around them, I shirked my responsibilities as an observer. The natural order of things seemed small in comparison. Observing became dull to me. I desired something more. I desired to experience.

After a few years of experimenting, I managed to will my consciousness into a tangible body of pure matter. I gave myself eyes to sense the full spectrum of light, ears to hear the cacophony of chirps of insects and birdsongs, skin to feel the moisture and warmth in the rainforest, a nose to catch the whiff of cooked meat wafting through the air, and a mouth to perhaps taste humanity’s delicacies. I wanted nothing more than to interact with them. Even though my purpose was to perhaps spectate the passage of time, I had to defy my nature. I had to know what it was like to be human.

I arrived at the outskirts of a square of a small human settlement. My form was rudimentary; it vaguely resembled a nude human, and every iota was screaming to be released into the ether. The first sensation I ever felt was the pain of maintaining a tangible body, but by releasing some of my energy as light, I had managed to buy some time. 

One human spotted me and uttered strange noises with its lips and tongue. In my observations, I could only hear everything, and yet somehow I had missed the invention of a complex system of sounds that they communicated with. But the creature still spoke, and others emerged from their dirt huts and straw roofs. A crowd gathered around me. Some wielded stone spears, while others warily gawked at my blinding aura. I was finally perceived. Perhaps not comprehended, but perceived nonetheless. Jubilation.

Their leader approached me with open arms and a countenance I could not understand. I only felt from within and therefore had no reason nor corporeal form to emote with. But the leader’s actions suggested no hostility, but a certain warmth I had never felt before. He turned to speak to his subjects and announced something that they shouted at. Again, not with aggression nor fear, but elation. 

Not long after, I came to understand that they had mistaken me for a higher being. In their words, a “God.” I was no such thing. I was merely an entity whose sole purpose was to observe. While I could exist in a different state, I held no superiority over them. I learned their language and reasoned that I must have resembled a god they worshipped in their culture. They gave me a throne, fed me their cuisine, and presented lavish gifts in metals and gems. I had no need for garments, yet they presented intricate ones with dizzying patterns and bright colors for me to wear. Eventually, they presented their young. They wanted me to bless them, they said. I could do no such thing. It did not seem right for an observer of nature to influence the course of things. 

But then the leader presented a young female, who was quivering and had fearful eyes. She was the captured daughter of an enemy tribe leader. Why was she scared? I had no intentions to harm her, nor did I fashion my form as a natural predator. Eventually, I realized she was not afraid of me, but of something more abstract. I reached to touch her, to reassure her, but she cowered before me before being taken.

The humans led me to an elevated stone altar. The leader proclaimed that I had come to bless them with my divine presence on an auspicious day. They celebrated, hooting and howling at the prospect of what was yet to come. I witnessed as they laid the young female onto the altar, ponderous of such a strange ritual.

To my shock, the leader brandished a blade and cut her heart out. The humans rejoiced again. I stood there, stunned by the brutality of such a sacrifice. Had the young female done something to provoke the mob to justify such retribution? Blood pooled around her corpse, her eyes empty and glassy. The leader presented her heart to me, requesting that I devour it. I could not comprehend such an act. I have seen sacrificial rituals done in the name of their gods and ancestors, but never have I ever been the object of such bloody reverence.

I abandoned my mortal husk and my desire to interact with the humans. 

A brief interaction with my fleeting corporeal form flung the humans into a frenzy. They began worshipping me, denouncing their “old gods” by murdering any dissenters who voiced their skepticism. They gave me a simple moniker: God--the all-powerful, all-knowing, ever-present. Logic compelled me to protest, to deny my divinity, but I had already violated my purpose by descending upon them, defiling the purity of the natural course of time. I could not comprehend the need for worship, but I could understand even less the compulsion I had had to visit these creatures. 

I chastised myself for years, brooding, as I continued to watch humanity form sects that taught varying versions of my supposed “teachings.” I did not recall imparting them any wisdom, nor did I speak at all. I acted as was my nature - to observe, and nothing more. Despite the flattery of their idolatry, my presence tainted the purity of my ward. Religions spread, and humans died in the name of their different gods, who all originated from that one encounter. I concluded that humanity was weak: easily influenced by power, they prayed to a god whose nature they did not understand and twisted a brief meeting into a reason to destroy. At this rate, I postulated that humanity would destroy itself within a few generations.

But despite their base nature, humanity continued to create. Outside of their meager attempts to appeal to my image, certain acute minds would innovate for the betterment of their species. They invented techniques to navigate the world with the sky and created systems of calculations that I did not expect third-dimensional beings to conceive. Music and art became an essential aspect of civilization, as they created a medium that transcended language barriers. I was initially perplexed by the purpose of art - what necessitated the haphazard arrangements of noises and colors? The ability to express oneself made mankind content with their lot in life. Despite the suffering and dangers that accompanied mortality, humanity applied imagination and creative skills through their need to express themselves. Even if nobody else saw it, they attained a satisfaction that eluded my understanding.

Humanity was not as destructive as I once thought.

Millennia passed.

Like many before them, men who claimed to have heard my voice--whether they be my children or prophets--became champions of my “great teachings.” One such man was so influential that humanity began to measure the passage of time since his death. I could not condemn their actions, for their followers had hoped to be more kind to their brethren. Humanity spent the next millennia trying to live by those teachings in hopes of becoming better. Despite the inevitable corruption of such a pure notion, I noticed glimmers of hope in the lost and meek when they heeded those words. 

Technology boomed. While humanity’s lifespan increased significantly through medical and scientific marvels, so did their capacity to be destroyed by weapons of mass destruction. So goes the endless battle between “good” and “evil,” concepts that are fundamental to human morality but are of little import to me. 

Humanity did not forget about me. Instead, I became a distant memory of how they interpreted my existence. I could be a God who would condemn those who committed evil, but I could also be a God who condoned the very same, favoring the oppressors and their causes. War, slavery, genocide, systemic oppression, and all kinds of abuse were justified simply because I “commanded” them. Regardless of the true reason for my visit, humanity would find a meaning behind my emergence to them those many millennia ago. 

I did not ask to be God, nor did I ask to be worshipped as one. Humanity could not dictate the purpose of my existence, nor could I dictate theirs.

The twenty-first century was considered a revolutionary year for humans, as their technology advanced even more, with science aiding their findings and innovative inventions. One could contend that humanity, in its greed, has become a disease, the perpetrator of extinctions and devastation. Mass slaughter and corruption of pristine habitats point to their destructive purpose. But upon observing those who dedicated their lives to right these wrongs, I would argue that mankind is wrestling with itself to discover its true purpose: creation and destruction. Humanity struggles with a constant dichotomy. 

Despite my infinite consciousness, I could never replicate humanity’s purpose. It is not within the purview of my purpose. Animals and plants sustained the food chain and their respective environs, while the Earth provided shelter and challenges for its inhabitants. But what of that which cannot interact with others? What of my purpose? 

Frustratingly, my true purpose still eludes me. While my only recourse in my bleak existence has been to observe the tangible universe with my panoptic vision to sate my curiosity, no higher being has decided the reason for my birth. Was I created, like the humans believe I did for them? Did I spawn from an egg? Or was it simply a spontaneous materialization? 

The universe has always been an endless cycle of birth and death. From the largest stars and the smallest life, all that exists is bound to entropy and decay. Will I fade away someday? Am I subject to the laws of the universe? I do not know, and that causes disconcerting uncertainty in me. Eventually, the universe, like all things, will end. I do not have the power to peer into the future, but I believe I will be there to witness it.

But I look forward to whatever comes.