The Sun—the bastard—bombards relentlessly. I push my palm against the toxic rays; the outline of my hand glows orange. The sand doubles the sun, sick radiation baking into my flesh. Though I still feel the cool cream of the lotion I put on earlier, it’s a sorry membrane against this barrage of Kelvins. The fine grains of the desert crunch under my boots.

This vast expanse stretching out before is a desert that knows no name, no life, no meaning: a true wasteland. And in this vast expanse, I am on a mission. To bring a name, a life, a meaning. And it is at this moment that my journey comes to an end: a simple, stark, black grave marker.

Explore in silent rhythm

The curse of our forefathers.

Here lies a sorry legacy;

Let there be no others.

Despite the sand and winds, the message stands pristine, ignorant of time. I locate the small rectangular indent quickly enough; a single inch wide and maybe a third as deep, it has the imprint of the squared taiji. I take a small rectangular prism from my pouch—it too features the squared taiji—and insert it, each emptiness filling with fullness to make a completed whole. A moment passes.

A geometric seam announces itself across the grave marker with a light, neon glow, somehow no second to the intense glare of the sun. With a token tremor the sea of sand is bisected along the luminous trail, opening into a room below: sickly, sunless, glowing darkness. I descend, stepping off the countless, searing microcoals into the sauna of uncountable melody. The music chamber of silent cacophony heard with the body. A painful hearing.

Roasting despite my gown forged against hellfire, I force my living corpse into the space below, soon coming before my goal: an enormous, smoothed egg of metal. The World Egg. As a compact expression of existence it is said to contain both life and death. Now is not a time for balance, however. I set upon hatching it, plunging Christ’s symbol into its mirrored indent and turning in the direction of the karmic cycle. I do this a myriad and eight times.

Inside I find what I expected: a very long, metal tube closed at one end and two netherstones destined for one another, glowing the devilish green they are wont to do. There is a seal for the cylinder with a dose of the finest alchemical explosive I’ve ever seen. I assemble the contraption, placing Yggdrasil’s seed in the collision path of the two netherstones.

I recite the chant:

Now I am become Life,

The creator of worlds.

And I press the switch.

Author Note: I did this as a writing exercise/challenge for 2D-Teleidoscope (Here). Somehow, it turned out way more ridiculous and silly than I intended. Maybe it’s because I haven’t written anything in a while. Well, it was fun! It’s not very clever, but I think it’s pretty clever for less than half a day’s work, right?