In the beginning, there was nothing.
No light.No darkness.No sound, no silence.No cause or effect.No fate, no destiny.Not even space or time.
For if anything existed at all, it was nothingness.
And then—at some unmeasurable point, for even the concept of time had not yet been born—something happened.
A being came into existence.
It was not born of matter, for matter did not exist. It had no body, no form, no voice or name. No memories whispered in its thoughts, no knowledge echoed in its mind. And yet—it knew.
It was aware.
That awareness was its first thought: I exist.
With that single realization, the void was no longer truly empty.
It tried to think, not because it had to, but because something within it stirred. A question rose in its mind.
"What am I?"
There was no answer. No voice, no sign, no whisper in the dark.
So it asked again.
"What is my purpose? Why was I born?"
Still—nothing.
Silence wrapped it like an invisible shroud. And so, with no response, the being drifted. There was nowhere to go, no direction to take, but it moved—not walking or flying, for such things did not exist. It simply floated, wrapped in thought, suspended in a place where place itself had not yet been imagined.
It began to reason with itself.
"If I know nothing... and there is nothing... then perhaps I am meant to do nothing."
And so it did.It drifted.Mind quiet.Aimless.Still.
The void felt infinite, yet somehow small. Boundless, yet contained. But even those words meant nothing here, for the concepts of infinite and finite had yet to form.
And then—something shifted.
Somewhere—though there was no such thing as "where"—other presences stirred.
They were not born from the First Being, but they came into existence with it. They were not like it, but not entirely unlike it either. They, too, were purpose-less, for there was no purpose to be found.
And yet… they were different.
The First Being did not see them, for it had no eyes. It did not hear them, for sound did not exist. But it felt them.
It sensed their presence like ripples across a still ocean, like pressure in the fabric of nothingness. Something brushed against its awareness, and in that moment, a second thought was born.
"Am I not alone?"
More thoughts followed, curious and uncertain.
"What are those things?""What are they?""What... am I now?"
The presence of the others changed something. The First Being, once content to drift in emptiness, now stirred with possibility.
For if others existed, then perhaps so could meaning.If others existed... perhaps everything could exist.
And so the being waited—not for time to pass, for time did not yet flow—but for a feeling, a spark, a pull.
And soon, it would come.
The story of everything had just begun.