The rhythmic sound of the keys beating out creation filled the room. Their noise did not fade, yet instead grew stronger the further from the source it was. It's century old pulse flowing out into the corridors on a guided and well worn path, to some universe somewhere in the space between nothing and everything, the space many humans call home.
The noise stopped.
"Sixteen eternities and this. I mean I've been working on universes since I was two millennia old. I've won awards. I don't understand it."
The small potted plant in the corner nodded, shrugged its leaves and went back to listening. She might as well, it was supposed to help her grow after all.
"A simple E-Mail of dismissal. Not even a personal visit. I mean, after this length of time you at least expect some acknowledgment."
Another tactful nod of its head and the potted plant continued to listen.
"I got commended for you you know. Most Creative Creation. The old director really liked to have a good old chat to your cousin in the morning. He said that there should be more sentient flora included in our landscapes."
A reassuring smile this time filled the pause in the monologue before the plant, a new breed of flowering wheat, was yet again all ears.
"I better start packing then. I wonder what openings there are for universe programmers?"
"What's next on the agenda Mrs. McMarding?" The new managing director of Universal Creation Inc. turned to his secretary.
"Well, we have, um, the contract with, let me see, Probability Administration, and then there's the students disciplinary, oh and, here it is, the redundancies." Pushing her thin rimmed half spectacles to the end of her nose (all secretaries named Mrs. McSomething wear thin half rimmed spectacles.) Mrs. McMarding looked over them at the accounting clerk, who in accounting clerk tradition was called Smith. "That would be your job, Mr, um, Smith," came the thoughtful end of the sentence.
"Ah Yes," Smith in yet more accounting clerk tradition always began sentences with 'Ah'. "We appear to have been very successful in cost cutting, in fact, I believe that Human Resources administration and employment system maintenance have already distributed the Electronic Mail dismissal documents." "He means that human resource have sent the E-Mails to all the people we're sacking." Said the man next to Smith who's sole job appeared to be to translate what ever the accountant said into recognizable speech. The managing director, at this point realising it was his turn to say something turned to Smith and asked, "Exactly who did you lay off Smith?"
"The inefficient, systematical engineers of planetary construction." Said the clerk in even more accounting tradition of using sentences that are convoluted and of unreqired length and that go on for far longer than the really need to, rather like this sentence in fact.
Quickly working out the translation the man next to Smith began "He means the planet pro... pro.." Suddenly unable to get out the last two syllables due the natural phenomenon of realising something is seriously wrong half way through a sentence, the translator, who coincidentally was called Joe, turned to the Managing Director.
"Come on then. Spit it out man." Said the managing director, who going against all tradition was called Blimeston. Slowly drawing himself to his full high of 5'4" and breathing in deeply Joe calmly translated, "the, planet, pro... pro... programmers." The last word of this sentence was blurted out causing the translator to deflate very suddenly into his chair and start gibbering to himself.
Spinning round in his large black chair, knocking over a potted palm (who said 'Ahhhhhh', shrugged and shattered on the floor) and hitting his knee on a misplaced filing cabinet the Managing Director turned to face the board room.
"HE SAID WHAT!!!"
"I think, he said.." the man from the training department paused for a long intake of breath, "planet programmers, sir." Another member of the managing board was reduced to a state of gibbering.
"HE SAID WHAT!!!" Shouted the Managing Director again as if stuck in a loop.
"I think, he said.." the head of I.T began, pausing for the compulsory intake of breath.
"I KNOW WHAT HE SAID." Yelled a now very red Managing Director. "he said that he has just dismissed the people who design and fabricate the whole universe. The select group of five persons who maintain creation of people, planets, plants (a small pondweed in the executive stress relieving tropical aquarium in the corner looked round) and everything that exists. He said that he has just sacked the people this whole firm revolves around. He has just said that he has destroyed the entire everything."
Smith, who being an accounting clerk had only just realised what was happening collapsed gibbering in his chair.
It was at this point that the caretaker, the only person apart from the Managing Director not now siting in their chair burbling and making weird noises apparently spotted the chance for a very quick promotion. Dashing out of the room, he ran down the hall way (all 456 miles of it) and reached the programming rooms. Gingerly pushing open the door of the first room the caretaker looked round the grey interior. Empty. He check the next room. The same. The next three were exactly alike. All empty.
Puffing, the Managing Director reached the end of the corridor. Seeing the expression on the caretakers face the Director looked round the door of the third room. Empty. All gone. Even the map of the Creation Construction Complex was gone leaving a path of bright blue wall against the now grey faded decor.
"You know said the caretaker. This room could do with a lick of paint."
At this point an explanation of the previous pages is needed. If not to help the reader understand the plot at least to give the author something to write.
When everything began the creator was the only person around. However after millions of billions of years he got tired with his work and so created the Creation Construction Corporation and, promptly went on a holiday he has not yet returned from. To make creation a slicker business the creator made five planetary designers and a large management system (Who said the creator never makes a mistake?). These persons were located in the Creation Construction Corporation Complex which had originally been blue, however 17 eternities of light had faded the Creation Construction Corporation Complex into a grey colour.
The building of the complex is over 600 miles long and consists of a six of offices grouped at one end of a 456 mile long corridor. At this end of the corridor was also the board room, a large room all grey apart from the selection of intelligent plants around the table. Now if you look at the other end of the corridor you will see the five creation rooms. Of course a lot of you will be wondering what the intervening 455.9 miles of corridor are for and so to keep you reading this I will explain.
When the corridor was first built it was 5 miles long and covered in doors every ten metres, but as creation went on the corridor grew also, the reason for this is that each door leads to a creation and a new door is added for each new world created.
Pick a door, any door......
"What do you think then? Should we have the Fire Engine Blue or the Polar Red?" The caretaker held a colour card from 'Interdimentional Decor is Us' up against the wall. "By the way, are there any rollers in the cupboard? Its a big room this and it'll take ages with a normal brush."
"Pardon?" The Managing Director looked despairingly at the caretaker.
"I was just saying that if I'm going to paint this room I'll need a roller." The caretaker held the Leaf Yellow up again the grey walls.
"I don't know if it has escaped your notice but if the Planetary Programmers are not back soon the universe will start to fall apart like a soggy cardboard box."
"Now there is a thought, Soggy Cardboard Purple. I wander if I've got a colour card for that one?" The two parallel conversation continued to drift apart.
"Why on earth did the old Manager have to go and die?" The Directors eyes were beginning to water, "Look what he's left me with, a universe breaking apart." Tears Started to form, "When the old creator hears about this I'm done for." The voice began to waver, "Only in the job for two thousand years and this happens. This, why me, why me...." The director collapsed in tears sobbing hysterically.
"I guess it'll have to be the Polar Red then Sir."
A voice: "Ah this door looks good. I think I remember creating this one."
"I'm sorry." Wiping a tear from his eye the Managing Director got up. "I don't know what came over me. I'm supposed to lead you in times like this."
"You mean you do like the Soggy Cardboard Purple! And there me thinking you were crying you eyes out because you hated it."
The Director once again forgetting his position of authority began to get emotional again. (All those reading this aloud should now assume the voice of a stubborn six year old with a bad cold and serious 'Its the worlds fault' attitude problem, failing that an impression of a teenager will suffice.)
"The stupid creator. [sniffle] Why did he have to make this. [sob] Why couldn't he just stay in and not go on holiday. [wipe away tear] Then then Programmers would have never been needed. [deep breath and sob in one] Stupid, stupid creator, stupid, stupid, stupid!" The last word was shouted a and sharply brought both sides of the diversified conversation into focus.
"What did you say?" A rather annoyed and sly look came over the caretakers face.
"I said, I said," the Director by this time was not going to stop, "I said the stupid," he spat out the words,"the stupid creator."
"You did, did you?" the tone of voice came in line with the facial expression, "Well, well, well." The expression and voice snapped back to their normal oblivious self. "That's nice. Now about the room colour."
I will at this point explain the happenings at the Creation end of the corridor during the time of the board meeting. It had just so happened that the Electronic Mail dismissal documents had arrived just as the board meeting commenced. Now in an inter-dimensional establishment such as Universal Creation Inc. the minutes of the previous meeting alone take at least 16 hours to be read so during the time the whole meeting took the creator had had chance to clear his office, hover it, wash the woodwork and leave the building by the fifteenth door of the 56th mile of the corridor.
The reason this door was chosen by the creator is not known even now and the fuscia to which this knowledge was trusted died from a bad case of white fly still being the sole owner (excepting of the course the creator himself) of this strangely significant fact.
This story might end here with the universe falling apart and eventually ending in one catastrophic error message, but it will not for a number of reasons; A) That would be a boring story line and fails to include the essential features of a sci-fi (eg. Man saves planet from bomb while bomb has only 0.097 seconds left till it explodes). B) The reader would get all upset because this is a stupid place to end a story and C) The writer would be unoccupied and might turn to the dreadful sin of using a computer for playing games instead of a serious writing job like this.
Somewhere in the void upon the plane of nothingness that the universe calls everything a small thread began to unravel from the cross stich of reality.
The creator appeared, not in the usual science fiction way of a quick flash of light and a 'ping' sound, but by warping history around himself as if he had always been there. He looked around.
The creator was seated in a small bistro at a small table sipping at a cup of coffee in a small cup. At the tale was a small potted fuscia, now taking the role of personal advisor to the now unemployed world-programmer.
"So then, this job business, you know about it do you?" The plant listened to the questioning tones of the creator and then added a small nod of its buds to answer.
"Oh, you did research did you?" The creator continued seeming to hear the unspoken answers of the plant seated on the table in front of him. "O.K then, so what are these job things? ......"
"Aghhhhhhh!!!" The accounting clerk leapt from his seat as a bucket of water hit him square in his face releasing him from his position of chief burbler at the board table. "SMITH!!!" The M.D yelled at the now awoken clerk ripping him further from his now dissolving confusion. "I have a job for you."
To Be Continued.....
By CodePenguin