Playing God

by MrPengu1n

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 974

The love a creator has for his creation is a peculiar feeling, one that can't fully be understood unless you feel it for yourself.

Some legends say, when you die, if you lived a good life, pleasing to the Powers That Be, you become a God yourself. You are granted divine jurisdiction over another universe, to do with whatever you want. You are allowed to rule your universe however you wish. You may become benevolent, you may become an angry God, but there is always one catch.
You can never be a perfect God.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-23 23:53:51 UTC

The Sun

This is my world. It was given to me by another.

I once walked in emptiness; no time, no space, no light, no dark. Nothing, nothing but me.

And then, in an instant, there was everything. I set something in the nothing, and that something became everything. Perhaps my creation would one day wonder how it came to be. Perhaps it would remember me, now, breathing life into the nothingness, but that would come to pass.

I created stars, planets, galaxies, and I knew them each by name. I knew what it was like to be a God.

And you know what?

It was exhilarating.

I created beauty like none other, majestic displays that could not be paralleled, and each was uniquely designed by my hand.

And yet, what is beauty if there is nothing to define it? I concluded my creation must be able to appreciate beauty, it must be able to learn.

I chose a planet in my universe, the perfect planet. Sun not too big, planet not too far away. I gave it neighbors; other planets, so it wouldn't feel lonely in the universe. And surrounding the planets, I created larger planets. Truly majestic beauties to behold, standing stalwart and strong, protecting the smaller ones. And at the very edge of it, I put another planet, just to remind my creation that there were things it didn't know.

I created land, and separated it from the waters. I created the sky, and it was the planet's silent guardian, protecting the surface under a canopy of air. The sun would light up the day, and the stars would illuminate the night. I created a moon, and it was the night's silent protector.

I created life, and it swarmed over the surface of the land. Plants of every shape, every size, every color I could imagine. And it was glorious.

And then, I created intelligence. My creation would not be like the one I had left behind. It would not be filled with plague, nor war, nor strife of any kind. It was designed to be perfect. And it was all because of one principle; that companionship would unify worlds. It was almost...magical.

I chose a form of life I liked. I sculpted it out of the stars, and because of this, I named it Celestia. She was my first true creation, something that could appreciate beauty. I gave her abilities like none other, I gave her jurisdiction over the world. I made her my Princess.

I walked with her, teaching her all about what I had made for her. We walked over the surface of my creation together, learning, bonding. I loved her, my only daughter in this new, young world.

We came to a puddle, and stopped to drink. I bent over and filled my water pouch, and Celestia saw her reflection for the first time. "There is another in this lake!" she exclaimed.

I put a guiding hand on her shoulders, "No, Celestia," I corrected gently, "That is not another, that is you. That is what you look like, what I see when I look at you."

Celestia looked upon her form for the first time. I had created her to appreciate beauty, perhaps she could appreciate herself.

And yet, she saw flaws. "Why do I not look like you?" she asked me.

She was here to learn, and I was here to teach, so I hid nothing from her. "Because I am not like you. I created you to be perfect."

"Are you not perfect?" she asked.

I did not know how to answer her. She was learning quickly. "I am your father," I told her, "I am not like you, because I have experienced things you have not."

"Then why not show me?" She asked, turning to face me, "Why must we walk like this? Could you not simply have created me already knowing what you mean to teach?"

I looked at her. She was learning very quickly. "I did not create you to know," I told her, "I created you to learn."

After a moment, she nodded and went back to looking at her reflection.

We stayed there that night.

When I awoke, she was laying atop me, clutching my hands with her hooves, "If I am your daughter, why do I not have these? she asked.

I held her hooves in my hand reassuringly, squeezing them like a father would, "Because I did not give these to myself," I explained, "I received this body from someplace else."

"Can you not change yourself?" she asked, "So that you would look more like me?"

"I can," I responded truthfully, "I choose not to change. It is a reminder of the place where I once was."

"Can I go there?" she asked. She did not ask to look like me, perhaps she could appreciate her own beauty after all.

I picked her up and stood up, holding her close. She giggled in delight. I held her for a moment longer, and then said, "No." it was the first time I had ever denied something of Celestia's.

She was shocked, "But why? Would I not learn more from that place?" she reasoned.

I looked at her and smiled, "I do not want you to learn from there, because that is where I was taught. I want to teach you myself," I placed her high atop my shoulders, to her delight, and finished, "And besides, I could not go back there even if I want to."

"Why don't you want to?" she asked.

I sighed, and began walking again, carrying her on my shoulders. "Someday, maybe you'll understand, but not today."

She did not respond. She had fallen asleep in my grasp. I chuckled to myself and continued walking, there was still much yet for her to learn.