To be or not to be

At the start everything was just fine. He was fine. He had woken up in the void, an endless, empty void. Everything around him was dark and he was puzzled about where he was. After a while he started feeling tired of moving in the infinite and thus, he started thinking about light. He thought for a while, considering and imagining how he could have made light. In the end he decided to make an explosion. He concentrated as much as he could and then he heard it, the explosion he had created. It was beautiful. For the first time he was able to see light and he was highly satisfied with the result.

He started noticing, with much surprise and interest, that pieces of the explosion were zooming away from its centre. They created spirals and travelled in bizarre trajectories. These were the first things he had ever seen, for with no light he was not aware of anything else but the dark, and curiosity led him to follow them, moving away from the explosion. He swiftly stayed behind them, looking at their movements which left a strange dust behind where they had previously been just a few moments ago. When the objects stopped he did the same. They had lost all of their power and now stayed in one place simply rotating on themselves. They were variedly coloured and presented all types of shapes on their cores. While he was studying them the light from the explosion started to cease, but he had seen light and objects and he had decided that everything was more beautiful with the light. He trapped the light from the explosion in various globes before it could vanish and then placed them near all the new objects so that he could observe them without problems. He achieved what he wanted and went back to admiring these incredible objects, satisfied.

He watched them closely for a long time. But with time he explored them all and all of their secrets were no more for him. He felt bored again, but this time he knew about light and what light could show him. He felt lonely. He decided to have children so that he could stay with someone. He chose to give his new children the most beautiful of his objects, so that they could share its beauty, and so he did. He had children and they were grateful for the gift they had received from their father. They were amazing, they were capable of doing with his object things that he would have never dreamed of. They created, they crafted, they invented, they studied. But most importantly, they loved him, and he loved them. He talked often with his children, almost everyday. He cared for them and kept them safe and they respected him. For a long time everything was just fine and he never felt bored, because they always found new ways of using the objects which he found rather intriguing and interesting.

It was a period in which he felt happy and joyful. One day though, he started noticing something strange in his children. The more they created and achieved, the more they started to desire from each other. They began to have fights between each other and to hurt themselves. He did not understand what was happening, they made faces and had thoughts they had never made before, faces full of anger, thoughts filled with hate. Some started to think that they were superior to the others. More and more of them were angry at him and behaved in a way that displeased him. He was upset about the fights his children were having, but couldn't be angry at them, they always found a way of making him forgive them. They talked to him, ask his advice and most of them felt sorry about what they had done. So he let them be.

They kept finding ways to use his object, until one day they began to do something the he wouldn't have believed possible. They started to destroy his object. At the start he saw it as if they were trying to see how they could affect the object, but, as time passed, he realised that his children weren't planning on stopping their madness. He didn't know what he could do about it, he couldn't understand their actions. They were changing his beautiful object from the many colours, in a pale gray mass. They made it sick and kept worsening his sickness instead of healing it. More and more of their mad creations were raised in a short time, each making the object even more sick. The situation kept worsening and he was more and more worried, until his sight was caught by something far more dramatic. His children were now destroying each other.

It had all happened so fast; he was so busy worrying about his object that he hadn't looked at how his children's hearts had become dark and full of hate. It had all happened so fast he hadn't noticed that his children were obsessed with having one more things than the other, and were having a fight about it. Not a simple fight though, the biggest fight he had ever seen. They reached a level of cruelty he didn't think his children were capable of. They killed each other in such rage at such a fast rate that he was afraid they would have completely erased each other, then they stopped. He felt relaxed now, they had stopped, it was all over. His tranquility didn't last long. They started fighting again, now it was even worse than before, which he didn't think was possible. He tried to talk peace to them. Nobody listened. He saw them making explosions such as the one he had done long ago, but this time they used it to kill each other. He felt scared for the first time. His children had been capable of replicating what he had done but used it to destroy instead of create. He was terrified he hadn't been able to stop them. They hadn't listened to their father. It was too much for him. He fainted.

It hadn't been too long when he woke up again, for the second time in his life. It didn't take him long to remember what his childen had done. Once again he couldn't hold the thought, but this time he didn't faint. He cried. He shouted. Why would his children do such things? Why would they not listen to their loving father? He was as sad as he had never been. When he was finally able, he came back to his object. He found it even more sick. His children now kept hurting each other and destroying the object. He called them but they didn't answer. He tried to talk to them but they didn't reply. They kept going on with their lives as if he had never existed. He saw that his children didn't talk to him. Nobody cared about his opinion. Nobody went asking his advice. His children had stopped loving him.

One thought came to his mind. It was weak at the start, almost a whisper. But the more he looked at his children the more this thought climbed through his mind, growing into a certainty. He had seen that his children kept living without him, thus he started wonder– do I exist? He wondered, am I real? He almost laughed at the idea at the start, but it was an unsecure laugh. He could see it. Everything kept going on, even without his help or advice. Nothing depended on him. His children acted like he didn't exist. As time passed he grew more sure of the idea that he didn't exist, but wasn't he there? Wasn't he thinking? He was certainly thinking and thus he had to exist. He wasn't sure though, it didn't seem right. He thought about it for a long time. His mind was stuck on this one thought: If nothing I do matters, If my actions don't count, If nothing depends on me and If my children don't think I exist, Do I, or Do I not exist? He couldn't find an answer. God sat back and started wondering again.