"The Problem" by P Viljoen

The problem with thinking is that once you start it's quite hard to stop...

Creation. A term used when "something" begins to exist. This usually is an improvement for that particular "Thing" but it leaves the question, "What came before?"

A line was traced through the cosmos, this was big news. In a place where space and time were laughable ideas all of a sudden form was created.

The line grew, an irrevocable solidity which drove back the white expanse forcing one idea onto a space precariously occupied by the endless possibilities of emptiness.

Lines stretched, joined, coupled and completed. The idea grew more complex; it was no longer a single point of focus but a train of thought which was pushing back the white expanse with the irreversable ease of consciousness.

A pair of eyes. No more than black holes, grew in the centre of the focus, devouring the world for the first time and instantly forgetting the absense that came before.

A mouth, a line scratched across what was now the face of the world, just a line, an after-thought which at once gave a voice to the world but also imparted emotion to the solitary figure, just one detail was left... a name.

ERIC. V

Where do ideas go? If an idea were forgotten does it no longer exist... or does it simply go back to where it came from? All ideas are different, some strange, some profound, others simple, fleeting or absurd but this idea... ERIC. V... now he had personality.

The thing about existance is that you can't really remember what it was like before it started, thought Eric. V.

Yes, Eric thought, this had come as quite the suprise; he knew that his first thought possibly wasn't even that good.

He had stood there on the square, looking ever forward, never moving. His coal dark eyes passively boring a hole in an unending, unbroken white world, until a spark flared a single moment of awareness which flooded the dam of consciousness and spilled over its wall to anxiously become the second thought of this white, empty world.

"Well, this is boring." Followed by the first blink, yawn and scratch in an inappropriate place.

The problem with creation, thought Eric. V, while pacing the flloor of his walless cell, is that it seems to often get bored.

After the initial shock of finding himself existing in a world as interesting as a 5 000 piece puzzle of a clear sky, Eric. V promptly lost his balance and experienced gravity, fear and pain in the same instant.

Emotions spun dangerously in his mind, like a novelty chainsaw juggling act, each one rushing towards him demanding Eric. V's attention.

The chaos of instantaneous existing eventually passed and with no small amount of effort Eric. V stood and took a few tentative steps to the edge of the pure white platform on which he stood.

Time, as we all know, is truly relevant on space; so in a world filled by only one figure, who can say for sure how long he peered ignorantly over that edge, but what we do know is that Eric. V was not afraid. Curious, slightly confused, a little nauseous and slightly hungry but not afraid. How could he be, he was alone and did not know anything about...well... anything.

So he nonchalantly swung first one, then the other leg over the edge and then fell as gracefully as any slinky could have hoped for -head over heels into the endless possibilities of nothing.

For Eric. V knew deep down that there are no endings, only different beginnings.




In memory of Eric Viljoen, my grandfather that i didn't meet.