No memories before this.
A confluence of atoms.
A congress of nebulae.
A parliament of noble and ignoble gases clashing together in a cold, empty void.
Hydrogen throws a chair at Helium, trace elements excuse themselves; ignition.
Energy, warmth, emission, embarrassment, transition, burning, flaming plasma, big boom: thermonuclear fusion.
Balls of minerals and gases settle in a reliable spiral.
They warm, but none call you names.
No sense of self.
No stories.
No Story.
•••
Stumbling around world, somewhere between hunter, and hunted.
Know light, know dark.
No have science, no have the time.
Have time make food; have time run from being food.
Sometime have sleep.
Move through grass.
Followed?
Stalked.
Hunted!
Move through world faster.
Make lots of noise.
World poorly designed.
Lope.
Faster!
Stand and run.
Stumble.
Fall.
Try again.
World rising, rushing, disappearing behind.
Faster, faster!
Head rise above world; break surface into great unknown.
First thing see: giant ball in sky; angry like lightning-struck tree.
Hurts where see from.
No have time wonder why angry, only have time shield eyes, stumble blindly forward.
No have words but brain provides two concepts in a row.
Bastard!
Sun!
•••
Named.
From there. The third rock away from… you?
You gain self awareness.
You have a you to compare things to.
For instance, most things are less on fire.
What is your purpose?
What do you do?
•••
Figured out flaming ball in sky.
Bastard Sun.
At first think: maybe come crashing down, destroy world.
Then think, maybe giant tiger eye.
Giant blue tiger… with white, fluffy stripes.
Notice it move—not like tiger.
Maybe thrown?
Very slowly?
No have time to worry about all that.
Decided.
Show where stuff is.
Let see tigers coming (kind on ground).
Easier find family.
Protector.
•••
You would have gone with “provider,” yourself.
Still, the rock, and its expanding collection of moving things has a point.
You protect them by helping them see.
You nourish food for them to chew on (that won’t try and chew back) that also provides cover, shelter.
You protect them.
You’re their protector.
They are yours.
They tell you so.
•••
Have day and night pretty much sorted.
Bastard Sun move across big lake overhead.
Why him do that?
(Decided it was a him. Someone else want make science? Them welcome to it.)
Must lost something. Look for it every day.
What him look for?
When him gone, not all dark.
Lots of lights.
Like him.
But little.
Family.
Him looking for family.
•••
Well, you guess you have a family now.
Those other balls of fire far, far away… too far to talk to.
None of them have names that you know of.
Must be too much bother to call, or write.
You see how they are.
•••
Got it!
At first, not so sure, but hypothesis come together nicely.
Bastard Sun look for moon.
Yeah, moon.
New word. Good word.
Honey Moon.
Call it that, because eat honey when come up with name.
That how science is.
Moon not there all the time.
Not sure what was going on with that. Not sure if going to name it at all.
Moon come back.
Figure it out: moon hide sometimes.
Honey Moon hide from Bastard Sun.
Probably steal something of his.
That’s how sisters are.
Always giggling with other girls, so no chance mate.
Making fun, telling secrets, stealing favorite rock.
That how moon is.
Science.
•••
You have a sister now.
That’s all right, you suppose.
At least she’s close enough to talk to.
She’s supposed to be hiding or something? You can see her just fine. She’s right there.
Still, science dictated that you chase her around the sky or some such thing.
That’s fine.
At least you’re not alone anymore.
At least you have a Story.
