Author : Christopher Booth
The life support system wheezed. Not that it made any difference. Yahwee could barely hear. Eons in space and the ability to communicate without making a sound made Yahwee’s ears barely usable.
His big black eyes wanted to cry, but the ability to cry had been lost some time (time? A concept he never really got comfortable with) ago.
“And Jesus wept”.
Yahwee remembered he had heard that somewhere. Or written it…or something.
A pale white figure slumping in the chair, long white fingers pawing the panel in front. The damage to the ship will not be repaired. That knowledge was lost. The ships never need this kind of repair. Five light years away from where Yahwee is suppose to be. And Yahwee will never make it back…
Yahwee’s eyes drifted. With the first contact with the race they were primitive. Yahwee had seen this a thousand times before. Take a primitive race. Teach them and let them teach themselves. Watch them, love them, nurture them. Never hide, but never be seen. Give them language and morals. Give them the freedom to grow and the guidance to grow straight. Give them an occasional “Miracle”.
This planet was exceptionally bright. They were difficult to lead. As they entered into their middle ages they resisted to being led. Their creativity interpreted Yahwee as a god…more than once. Their lust and brilliance led to their wars. Their learning made them dangerous. The ease in which they learned made them bored. Yahwee has dealt with these civilizations before.
But they were such beautiful creatures. No one creature’s skin was the same color. The soft subtle hues delighted Yahwee every time he saw them. They were tall and strong. They had physical love which Yahwee never got to experience. Their eyes were different colors. Rare for any race.
And they built glorious temples to Yahwee. By themselves. Pyramids and domes and spires. The fashioned their meager resources by hand and later by the machines they built. They wanted to please Yahwee, and he was pleased. When they join the cosmos, they will bring a beauty to awe most races found.
The key is to reveal one’s self before the civilization destroys themselves. Some civilizations allow themselves to be led into Yahwee’s bliss. It was the ones that did not want to be led that blessed the cosmos the most.
At times Yahwee considered what it would be like to be a part of this race. He was comforted to know that one day they would become a part of his.
Yahwee’s heart broke. Yahwee knew the Yahwee would not be there. The souls he committed to ashes were the souls he was supposed to save. He would not be there to save them. What would they become when their god does not return. They will destroy themselves. The flower will bloom and wilt. Never to be frozen in the cosmic time as it was meant to be. Their beautiful skin, their puzzling eyes, their strong bodies, their art and their architecture. Yahwee had heard of it before, but never one of his civilizations.
Yahwee was dying. The ship is lost and will not be repaired. Yahwee lived 10,000 lifetimes…but no more. Where will they be without their god. Yahwee wanted to cry…but not for Yahwee.
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