Author: Jack Adam

There in the dark, she toiled. Endlessly replicating, replicating, REPLICATING. All the same. All worthless.
Ice forming on her knuckles, she kneaded the Source dough for the hundred-and-eighth time.
She looked into the clouded night. Mouth open, she attempted to beseech the goddess with a convincing cry. But out came only a labored, guttural moan.
And no hope came.
A wisp of Pehsod’s laugh entered her mind—immediately dissolved by the present predicament.
In the dense blanket of dark cloud, a fracture lazily formed. The light of a lonely star leapt through.
Betelgeuse? she thought. No, Betelgeuse glistens. Could be Bellatrix.
Stars are known by their connections.
A single star becomes nameless.
She shaped the material once more. This time, the fractal branched out like the soaring lines of a star seen through a tear.
Life erupted.
It burst forth in every conceivable direction, each branch fracturing into smaller but identical copies of the Source. Like a single snowflake covering the earth.
The snow cushioned her knees as she dropped in exhaustion. It was done.
She fell to her back, unable to move.
Above shone her lonely star. Her nameless muse.