Pleasure Without Responsibility
I woke after sleeping as long as I pleased.
"Oh..."
A soft sound of wonder slipped out before I could stop it.
Only moments ago there had been nothing but the sea. Looking up brought only endless dark; looking down into the water showed no bottom worth the name. Up and down themselves had been vague, and time had not seemed to move at all. I could not have said how many ages passed between one blink and the next.
Now everything was different.
Darkness still remained, yet it was no longer empty. Countless lights floated inside that deep, wide dark—some no larger than a fingernail, others vast enough to push the shadows back as they burned. Red and blue, gold and silver, each shimmered quietly in its own place. Some lights hung alone; others gathered into long, ribbon-like streams. Between them drifted a hazy, mist-like glow that coiled and flowed. It looked as if someone had scattered a handful of silver dust across a black ocean.
I lay on the surface of the Primordial Sea and slowly turned my head. Light met my eyes in every direction. There was no end to it. The scene stretched beyond what one glance could hold, layered above and below the water. Starlight shattered into long trails along the gentle waves; light that sank beneath the surface drifted down into depths I could not measure. Even my silver hair caught the glow. Hair that reached my feet spread wide across the water and mixed with the starlight until I could no longer tell whether I floated on the sea or lay among the lights themselves.
"Mother, does it please you?"
The voice came from beside me. I turned. The Light God stood there, far clearer than when he had first been born. His golden hair held its own radiance, and tiny sparks of light continually rose and faded inside his clear eyes. He waited with both hands neatly folded, trying to look calm yet failing to hide the eager hope in his gaze—like a child waiting for praise.
Behind him the other gods had gathered. The Wind God could not stay still and darted between the lights. The Darkness God arranged the borders between bright places and dark ones. The Earth God moved his hands over round masses that had not yet taken proper shape; stone and dust gathered around them and began to turn slowly. Every face showed the same wish: to show me what they had made.
I looked again at the scene before me. When they first declared they would create a world, I had expected little. How grand could anything be, I had thought, if a few bright beads were hung in the dark and a few lumps of land of decent size were shaped? They were children barely born. I had planned to praise them for effort alone, even if the result looked rough.
What they finished was far more beautiful than I had imagined. Space so wide I could not guess its size, filled with light and darkness, countless points of light in every color and size—all of it the result of their shared talk and shared strength. My mouth curved upward without my noticing.
"It's pretty..."
The Light God's eyes went wide. The gods behind him froze. Even those adjusting star positions far away turned their heads. I paid their reaction little mind and continued.
"Like a universe."
It resembled the photographs I had seen in my previous life—clusters of stars taken from observatories, nebulae and galaxies sent back by telescopes. Back then I had glanced for a few seconds and moved on to something else. The view before me now could not be compared to any photograph. Still, no better word came to mind. Universe. The space where endless darkness stretched between star and star. Among the words I knew, it explained the present scene best.
The Light God closed his mouth for a moment, turning my words over, then his face brightened completely.
"Ah."
He nodded as though he had understood something important.
"Then we shall name it the Universe!"
"...Hmm?"
I blinked slowly. The Light God had already turned toward the others.
"Mother has bestowed a name upon this world."
His voice spread wide among the stars. Even distant gods stopped moving.
"From this moment, everything we have made shall be called the Universe."
"Universe..."
The Wind God carefully repeated the unfamiliar word. The moment it left his lips, an invisible current swept long between the lights.
"Universe."
The Darkness God murmured it in a low voice. The rest of the gods took the name in turn.
"The Universe."
"The name Mother has given us."
"No name could suit it better."
They repeated the new word again and again, treating it with care, as if it were something precious. What was this reaction, as though they had never heard it before?
I slowly sat up. The Primordial Sea rose and settled gently with my movement. Wet silver hair spilled long down my shoulders and back. Thinking it over, the strangeness made sense. "Universe" was a word humans had used in my previous life. No humans existed here yet. I did not even know whether language itself had been properly formed. The gods understood my speech so naturally that I had never questioned it. Could it be that the word I had used in my past life was completely new to them? If so, the single word I had just spoken had become the first name this world ever received.
I hesitated briefly. The Light God clearly believed I had looked upon the finished world and deliberately given it a name. In truth I had simply let a familiar word slip out. Should I correct him?
"I only meant it looks like a universe."
If I said that, I would have to explain what "like a universe" meant. If I said the universe was originally the space that held stars and planets, I might then have to explain stars and planets. Galaxies, nebulae, suns and moons could follow in a long chain. Just imagining it exhausted me.
I lay back down on the water. My long hair spread in every direction and caught the starlight.
"Well, it's no big deal."
I muttered the words and closed my eyes. One name, however it was used, would not cause real trouble. It was easy to say and suited the view perfectly. The gods seemed to like it, so leaving it alone was fine.
"Mother."
The Light God approached again. Gratitude still shone on his face.
"Thank you for bestowing so beautiful a name upon the world we have made."
"Mm."
I answered vaguely.
"We shall tend the Universe so that it never shames Mother's will, and make it still more beautiful."
"Sure."
"Now that it has a name, we must also establish an order worthy of it."
"Do as you like."
"Yes. Leave it to us!"
A vigorous reply came back. The Light God returned at once to the others. Wherever his feet touched, small paths of light appeared. The gods began to move with far greater energy than before. Even without a name they had worked hard; now that they possessed one, they seemed to understand clearly what they were completing.
"Let us place a great light in the brightest place of the Universe."
"Brightness alone is not beautiful. Sufficient darkness is needed as well."
"I shall divide the places where light and darkness dwell."
"Let everything keep moving so the flow never stops."
Voices rose from every direction. Their thoughts sometimes differed and the voices grew louder, yet they never turned into fights. When the Light God gathered too much light in one place, the Darkness God scattered part of it. When the Earth God shaped a huge mass of stone, the Wind God circled it to restore balance.
I listened with my eyes closed, then cracked one open. Far away a small light was being born. A flame smaller than a fingernail slowly grew. Hot red light pushed the surrounding dark aside, and scattered dust and stone began to circle it, turning again and again along the same path.
"What are they making?"
The Light God turned at once.
"We placed a great light at the center and arranged small lands around it."
He added, a little tense, "Is there anything lacking in Mother's eyes?"
"No."
I watched the distant rotating light and stones. No matter how I looked at them, they were a star and its planets. They were building a familiar structure without even knowing the names.
"You made it well."
"Thank you!"
The Light God beamed. As he rejoiced, the central light brightened a little more. The round lands circling it began to take on different colors—some red, some blue, the outermost ones white as ice.
While I watched a little longer, the Earth God asked carefully,
"Mother."
"Mm?"
"Would you also bestow names upon those round lands?"
I closed my mouth. I had known this would happen. One name given, and they already waited for the next. Every gaze gathered on me at once, ready to accept whatever I called them.
"Planets."
In the end I simply pulled the word from memory. The Earth God's eyes widened.
"Planets..."
"Call the round lands that travel around a light that."
The explanation felt a little thin, but I did not want to speak longer. The Earth God bowed his head, moved. At once the new word spread quickly among the gods.
"Planets."
"So those are planets."
"Planets are circling the Universe."
Strictly speaking the planets were not circling the Universe, but correcting it now would only lengthen the talk. They would figure it out eventually. If the gods were wise, they would observe and discover the order themselves.
I closed my eyes again. The comfort did not last.
"Mother."
This time it was the Darkness God.
"The countless lights we have made also need names."
"...Stars."
"Stars."
He repeated it quietly. A faint satisfaction crossed his otherwise expressionless face.
"A truly beautiful name."
I was not sure "star" was especially beautiful, but it did not sound bad.
"Mother."
The Wind God flew over in a rush.
"What should we call the long streams that run between the lights?"
"Galaxies."
"Galaxies!"
The moment he heard the answer he shot away. His cry spread among the stars.
"This river of light is a galaxy!"
Sounds of wonder rose here and there. I lifted one hand and covered my face. I had clearly made a mistake. They intended to ask me for a name every single time they made something. I knew many words from my previous life. The problem was that what they planned to create looked far greater in number. Was I going to end up naming every single thing that existed in the world? That sounded exhausting. Just thinking about it, I could see no end.
"From now on, name things yourselves."
I drew the line early. The gods around me all stopped moving at once. The Light God spoke carefully.
"But no name can be as perfect as those Mother bestows."
"They don't have to be perfect."
"Is it truly all right for us to decide names on our own?"
"It's fine."
"To place names upon Mother's creations—would that not be too great an honor..."
"You made them."
At my answer their expressions went blank for a moment, as if the thought that they themselves had made these things had never occurred to them. I had shared the Authority of creation. They were the ones who had fretted over the positions of stars, adjusted the depth of darkness, shaped the round lands and set them around the lights. All I had done was float and watch. Now and then I had spoken a few familiar names, nothing more.
"You made them, so you name them."
I said it again.
"Whatever names you like."
The Light God could not speak for a while. Then he placed a hand over his chest and bowed deeply.
"You trust us and entrust this to us."
"Mm."
I did not bother adding that I was simply too lazy to do it myself.
"We will not betray that trust."
The other gods bowed in turn.
"We will carefully tend the Universe Mother has entrusted to us, and give fitting names to everything newly born."
"Sure. Go ahead."
"We will make certain nothing brings shame to Mother's name."
I doubted anything could shame my name. Come to think of it, I had never even told them my name. They had only ever called me Mother. The fact suddenly surfaced.
"My name is Tia."
Silence returned—so deep it seemed I might hear the stars burning. The Light God stared at me with lips slightly parted. The Wind God hung motionless in the air; the Darkness God's shadow did not stir.
"Tia..."
Someone spoke my name with extreme care. For the first time the Primordial Sea remembered it. Starlight flared brighter for an instant, and the darkness grew deeper by the same measure. The still-nameless planets continued their quiet turning. One by one the gods sank to their knees.
"The First Mother."
The Light God spoke in a reverent voice.
"Tia, the beginning of all things."
He bowed his head low.
"We will forever remember the name of the one who shared life and power with us and granted us the chance to create the Universe."
The other gods bowed in the same posture.
"We will forever remember the name of Mother Tia."
Their voices overlapped. The vow passed between the stars and spread beyond the endless dark. I watched them, then slowly tilted my head. I had only introduced myself, yet the matter had grown strangely large.
"Mm."
Not knowing what else to say, I answered vaguely. The gods seemed to take even that as permission.
That day the vast nameless world received the name Universe. The round lands circling the lights were called planets, and the lights burning in the dark became stars. The rivers of light were given the name galaxies. And before any of those names, the gods learned that the first being who had given them birth was called Tia.
Mother had trusted the gods and granted them the right to name her creations. All names and meanings began in that moment—or so they would later say. Of course I had never thought anything so grand.
While the gods continued their creation, I lay back down on the sea once more. Above my head the stars that had just received their names shone thickly. Starlight shimmered beneath the surface as well. It was a little brighter than the empty time before, and I thought it might make sleeping harder, yet the view itself pleased me. I pulled my silver hair over my eyes and covered them. Then I yawned softly.
"You made it well."
I felt the distant gods stir with fresh emotion at those words. This time I decided to pretend not to notice.
Well... it's no big deal.