DDOlympics: Storytelling: PRELIMS 1

By the way, I reserve copyright and my other related rights in writing this short story. Please don't copy it.Part Two: MyosotisShe reached for a rod. I searched the tree-line with my eyes, as if to gauge forest's reacted to the auditory intrusion.A second clash announced itself, and a third confirmed it wasn't an echo. The tone warbled eerily. A fourth. A fifth. A sixth. The procession of clanging endured. The sound lingered too long in the emptiness.A flutter. The inhabitants of the heights began their exodus. A part of me wanted to follow. I looked across the fire, I saw her gaze trained toward the unique grand cave. She pointed. Following her finger, I gasped at the sheer number of small silhouettes rising from the ground surrounding the cave. It looked like raindrops, now black with earth, returning to their once-forgotten home in the clouds. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I was ungrateful.""Nonsense," I replied. I wanted to say more, but I was suddenly taken aback to discover a tear on her cheek, despite her composed demeanor. We watched the the raindrops in silence.I will narrate as best I remember of what our experiences following these strange sounds; however, I cannot properly explain our decision that immediately followed the frightening clashes. I was chocked with an overwhelming dread, frozen with anxiety, and tickled with curiosity. Perhaps in my indecision I followed her; perhaps she followed me. My face was flushed. I was breathing quickly, as if we had run instead of strolled. The unique grand cave seemed grander up close. The grand cave was a sharp hill that wore three hard tree-like junctures reaching toward the shy. I was swept with the sensation of being insignificant. The walls to the entrance were already cracked open. "COME IN." A voice boomed. I did not move. Neither did she. "Please." The voice was softer. I swallowed. She walked to the wall. She looked back--her expression was filled with regret. She moved inside. I could not bare the thought of remaining outside alone. I scuttled after her. The inside of the cave was enormous--the heights seemed as tall as the sky. The interior walls were adorned with images that I could not identify immediately. My breathing was out of control. Before me was complete and noncontroversial proof for the existence of a creator. I felt small and naked, guilty and afraid. I could not know what the creator had heard me whisper in the night. They say that no words escape those ears."OPEN THE DOOR." The voice came from everywhere in the room. I did not know what the voice meant. "STOP,' the voice commanded. I halted. So did she. "YOU BY THE ENTRANCE. TURN. AND STOP. NO, BACK A LITTLE...NOW. YOU ARE FACING THE DOOR." I did not know what a "door" was, but I was facing another entrance. I approached it and pushed the wall open. "GO UP THE STAIRS." There were a series of inclines that spiraled upward. Many grand caves had similar objects. We understood what we had to do. The climb seemed endless. When we reached the heights, a somewhat muffled voice reached me from behind another entrance. "Come in," the voice said. "Who are you?" She asked, shaking. "I am Myosotis, the One-Who-Remembers." The voice replied. "I am God."*****Myosotis sat slouched so low that her head was in competition with her knees. Her face was very pale--I had never seen a face so white. Under her eyes was a deep purple that gave the impression of that her skull was pulling at her eyes from behind. In front of her eyes were the outline of two squares the rested on her nose. Her hands sat on a small box that lay on her lab. "Hi," she suggested."Hi, hello," we responded. "Do you want to hear a story?" God asked. "Yes," I replied. I was not about to refuse God."I'm so sorry," a familiar voice blurted. God turned to her, amused. "It is I who should be sorry, you know.""Are you the creator?" I asked. Myosotis looked at me. I felt uncomfortable by her gaze. "Yes, I suppose in a way I am," God mused. "Would you like to hear my story? First, though, you must choose. I can bestow on you wisdom, but you must forfeit happiness. I will tell you all that happened, and afterward you can be like me--a God. However, this knowledge will make you miserable. Are you willing to accept this gift?"Admittedly, God did not look particularly wise. One of God's fingers began exploring her nose absentmindedly. I remembered the sky turn the Land into fire. I recalled the breeze on the gnarled tree. "I accept," said I."I accept." She did not sound confident."Very well." Myosotis straightened up. "I am the One-Who-Has-Not_Forgotten. I can tell you how each piece of this city was meant to be used. I have a laptop on my lap. You heard my voice earlier through speakers that were powered by electricity. People used to believe that the apocalypse would bring decay and violence, but they were mistaken. The death of old world came without a single causality."God looked at me. "Do you know why?" I told her I did not.God resumed: "The human species operates under a system called evolution. It's not really a thing-in-itself--it's more a description of something that just happens. What people didn't understand about evolution, however, was that it doesn't just apply to biology. Evolution is everywhere--in our culture, in our epistemology, in our language. In biological evolution, many genes struggle to maintain their immortality. Those genes that did not do so were never heard from again, so we only talk about the genes that care about their immortality."The evolution of the consciousness works in much the same way. Instead of genes, however, the evolution of consciousness works to make ideas immortal. These ideas make their home in your anatomy and make up your mind. By sharing your thoughts, your feelings, your beliefs, your love, your hate, you are participating in the immortality of ideas without even realizing it. The impact of these thoughts are carried by those you meet. Your consciousness is transferred to every person this person meets. Some call this transfer 'effects,' and others 'karma.'"The human species was on the one hand highly-successful--we created this city as you see it. All of these skyscrapers are ours. We constructed them from the ground. We made the art that you see in this building. We have achieved complete dominance over nature--'godhood,' if you will. However, in achieving full knowledge of nature and therefore complete power over nature, we also began to exploit nature. The means by which we achieved dominion was wrecking havoc on our vassal earth--cycles of competition and mastery was bringing a slow death to us all. What was even more disturbing was the fact that we had the knowledge to watch it happen, but could not prevent it. We were forced by ourselves to watch ourselves execute ourselves--our knowledge that had been our means of achieving comfort was now tortured us--though we had become the most powerful beings on the planet, we were held captive by our own godawful 'means.' Remember this: your actions always infect your soul."Our consciousnesses could not function properly. In self-defense, some tried to deny that the prison existed. The evidence was overwhelming, however, and the hollowness of these bad faith arguments became apparent. Our consciousness, in desperation, moved at incredible speed, the likes of which our history books fail to mention. Our minds realized that we must overcome our who techno-epistemologic processing. People began to forget. Not everything; just the things that were destroying them. They began to burn themselves on toasters. They forgot what cars were for. They no longer used elevators."This was apparently just in time. Those who could not forget began to be so troubled by their own existences that they suffered from chronic clinical depression. Many committed suicide. Some, like me, remained. In this world I have all that we once desired. I have power. I can use cars and planes to traverse this globe at unheard of speeds. I can use weapons to recruit slaves and armies. I am a god. But in truth, I am paralyzed. I have nothing to do; I do not belong in this world. The only thing left I have to do is pass on my knowledge to naive fools like you before I die. I hate myself for it--by all rights you should be allowed to live without these burdens. However, forgetting does not erase our crimes. You may have forgotten technology, but you still remember violence, and you are starting to re-learn domination. I see dried blood on your rod. We will probably learn again, and again forget. Each cycle however will leave us one step closer to our doom. That is my excuse for telling you my story, but I'm afraid my motives are probably not so pure. This is probably my consciousness giving one last attempt to transfer my awful heritage." "And I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, but I must show you this." She proceeded to show us images on what she called a "laptop." She later taught us to read and to write. I saw all of the horrible crimes of humanity's past. What was worse was we then knew how to use this knowledge. There was no longer any need to walk or scrounge for food. We could and did recruit other humans and nonhuman animals for our purposes. Nature bent to our wills. And we hated ourselves for it. My friend decided she could no longer stand this life, and left me alone. God had long since died of a flu. I write this to you now while I am gazing at that same hateful blue-grey skyline, using some of the last electronics at my disposal. I hope and pray that you who reads this will live in a better world. Perhaps we've learned to end the cycles, or make the planet better. Perhaps not. In any case, I image I'll long be dead when you read this. And I mean to say with all my heart this one, utterly usefuless, hateful, spiteful, evil thing: I'm so sorry. With all my heart, I am so, so sorry. Live well. Godbless.