It all began with a man and an idea. An idea that artificial flesh and soul may be joined together to create a living, sentient being, and a man who was willing to give his vision life. He lived to see his ideas take shape and draw breath, and died to see his ideas outgrow him. Through trial and tribulation and failure--so much failure--the man found success, found perfection. It all began with her; a perfect being born into an imperfect world. It only makes sense that everything ended with her as well.

There were others too. Imperfect secrets that the man left to languish in the dark. A group of 4 men, brothers, rebellious and outspoken; the brothers deserted the man, setting out to claim a life for themselves. In the end, nine perfect artificial beings were created over the years without an objective flaw among them, The Perfects. In time they became family to him, children to a mad father. The life they shared was not ordinary, but it was theirs. As with all children, The Perfects grew restless, outgrowing the day to day life they had become so used to; the more their father confined them, the more they rebelled against his rules. It was only as they snuck away from their father--through that small streak of insubordination--that they came to meet humanity.

Chaotic, imperfect humanity. Squabbling and stubborn, carving any path they so choose with no one to guide them. The Perfects looked down upon the unruly creatures with contempt. Why, they asked themselves, would any creature live in such a way? Why live an imperfect life? They watched as The Brothers returned, befriending the humans and even raising one of their own as a regent. Ridiculous, some of The Perfects scoffed. But they continued watching the humans, walking among them, and before they knew it the unthinkable happened. Their contempt turned to curiosity, the curiosity became amusement, amusement to fondness, and fondness to affection. Before they knew what had happened, The Perfects had forged loyal, undying bonds with the citizens of a small barony filled with unconventional humans, heroes who patiently swayed the artificial souls. All except one. The oldest child, the most cynical. While her siblings stood loyally beside the humans, while her father vehemently shouted his disapproval, her contempt grew with each passing day. While her siblings made friends, she gathered information and plotted, biding her time as her plans slowly came together.


Her father was the first to fall. Left drooling and mindless as she consumed the grey matter she had ripped from his overambitious head. Incensed over the loss of their father, The Perfects stood by humanity’s side, doing everything in their power to slow the progress of their would-be demiurge sister. The fight proved futile as she consumed her brothers and sisters one by one, their power flooding through her until the stars aligned upon final plan. Not even the gods and goddess who watched over our realm were able to stop her final ascension as she took The Akashic, Chronicler’s book, into her pale, bloodstained hands. As her quill glided across its pages, a new world began to take shape around her. A better world. A perfect world.

With his children consumed, The Brothers cast down in mockery, and the heroes wavering upon their feet, The Demiurge’s father rose one last time, using the last of his power to cast the town’s humans through time and across the world; far from her reach, he reasoned as his body slowly disintegrated, they could form humankind's’ final bastions, carrying humanity’s fate upon their broken shoulders.

*     *     *     *     *

A golden sun in a cloudless sky shined down upon a town beyond the hills and seas that separated the resistance from the home they once knew. Immaculate little houses sit in tidy little rows, each exactly the same as the last. As 8 o’clock strikes, all denizens file out of their humble abodes, sporting spotless work clothes and wide, sparkling smiles. By 9 o’clock everyone is exactly where they should be: the laborers are laboring, students are studying, and Eden’s elite patrol the streets, ensuring all is as it should be.

Eden surveys her domain from the sky, relishing in yet another perfect day in the world she shaped by her own hand. As she flies by, faces turn away from their work and hundreds of hands reach up in reverence.

“Eden bless this beautiful day!”

“Thank Eden for our happy lives!”

“Praise Eden and she shall provide!”

Her face glows as she comes to rest on her throne, a pale crown resting atop her head. Years have passed and her plans have been executed flawlessly; everything is perfect. But somewhere—far in the recesses of her mind—she can’t help but think there’s something she’s forgetting; a slight nagging twinge in the back of her head. Eden dismisses the ridiculous notion with a chuckle. Everything is perfect. There is no reason for her dwell on such thoughts.


She settles back into her throne, watching with satisfaction as her laborers polish a newly erected sign at the entrance to town, buffing until its message sparkles: Welcome to Unity.

Perfection

 

 

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