Genesis Machine

Only from destruction can there be creation. God is god and man is man, and when there are no gods mankind will make them.

Men in gunmetal armor pointed polymer rifles at one another, firing rounds of depleted uranium that shrieked through the air and left burning and irradiated air molecules in their wake. Bikers on steeds with treads for hooves and halogen lights for eyes tore through the grasslands, hoping to cut off the artillery line that was pulverizing the city. Screaming yells as grenades flew and fell, mankind tearing itself apart in a war that, despite spread amongst stars, was no more significant than the animal instinct pushing two alpha males of different species to contest over swamplands, only for both to be engulfed by a third hoping to feed her young.

 

No one noticed when the lines of red broke out from the sky and lanced into the ground, flickering with the intensity that only radiated light could. Lasers could theoretically point to infinity, given complete lack of obstacles in their path. They fell with silence, without trumpets or horn or bells, standing mute yet reaching up far above the clouds. Did no one wonder where these crimson rays came from? Did no one care? Soldiers marched forth in continual progression, shouldering their rifles and unloading what they called "hell."

 

Despite the fade of the old religions eons ago, on planets that humans originally called home, old traditions still unofficially clung on within distant memory. Hell, they thought, was the battlefield, the sticky heat of the jungle and the ominous darkness of the forests, the sweltering wastes of deserts and the cold concrete flakes of the urban. Hell, no one figured, would come from on high. And yet how does that phrase go?

 

"Death from above."

 

The red lines flickered once, and vanished. In their wake the clouds parted, swirling away as blue-white columns of sizzling energy surged downwards, following the paths heralded by their crimson markers. The pillars of radiance engulfed all that they fell upon: cities, barracks, battlefields, ports, and bunkers all alike. A hundred score orbiting eyes all looking down on earth, now a hundred score lights of judgment that fell from the opened iris floodgates on high, all aimed at the highest concentrations of people, weapons, and resources.

 

Down below, the horizon was filled with blazing light. Pure white that encompassed all, filling every nook and cranny and banished all the shadows. Darkness fled in full retreat, fearful of even these heavenly blasts. All life under those rays ceased, absorbed and glittering into its purest shining dots and particles before transcending this plane of existence, entering what could only be interpreted as the world of "thought."

 

Now the trumpets rang forth and the horns blew. Explosions that sundered the planet rocked the continents as matter was ripped apart down to its very atoms and the mountains cracked beneath that awesome light. Veneration and dread.

 

And then the columns of blue-white power stopped, and the world fell silent once again. The watchers from on high stared down at their handiwork in contemplation, judging the now-vacant world. Night fell, and morning followed. The first day.

 

Those who watched deemed their work worthy, and sought to hide it from the others. Furthermore, their canvas had been purged, but was not yet clean, and so it was decided...

 

Spheres dropped forth from the skies and hovered amongst the clouds, sparkling in twinkling brilliance. Radiance emanated from the wheels around them, and they aligned themselves in a line that circled the world. They bristled with antennae and rivaled the moon in floating in the sky in size, yet they left no shadows upon the ground. Lights twinkled in random patterns from their sides.

 

Between them the sky was cleaved in half, and it would remain so until their work was done. None would enter, and none would leave, so long as this wall stood, and only upon word given from most high, the highest of even the watchers, would this wall disperse. Given unto them was authority over this world as a whole. It was said that to travel amongst these spheres, ascending each as they spiraled higher into the darkness above, would bring one closer to the watchers. Night fell, and morning followed. The second day.

 

From the spheres then came messengers, clad in armored gray plate and soaring without wings, standing atop pylons of burning blue flame. They fell, and yet were not Fallen, but charged with purpose. They were massive versions of men, greater in shape and scope than any man, their authority gleaming forth from their one cyclopean eye. Light exploded from their feet and backs as they traveled through the air, and the roar from their flight announced their presence. From their metal shells they burst forth and spread upon the planet, scouring its farthest reaches. Before their eyes none could hide, and their sonic cries penetrated deep into the ground to find the hidden sinners.

 

The hands of these armored angels would glow brightly then, and from their fingerless palms rained forth beams of intense light, burning away that which was considered unclean. Those who had survived the lights fled from these heralds and their task. But none did.

 

And so the heralds claimed for themselves plots of land, taking each landmass unto their sphere of authority; to watch, to govern, to defend, and to rule. Under their gaze the living animals came out from their secluded shelters and the grass began to grow again. Night fell and morning followed. The third day.

 

From among the orbiting eyes the watchers surveyed their new world, and images came to them in relentless succession. Entire mountains and oceans and plains were recreated in pinpricks of light before them, arranged into translucent and glossy floating representations atop a field of digital light. The world was reduced to binary and then recreated; alchemy.

 

To those below, the sky became alight with crimson burning dots. The watchers deemed it necessary to determine where they would personally touch the land, to see where it would be needed most and where it would be most advantageous for them. Much of the terrain had changed, admittedly because of them, but that was but a minor detail.

 

There, they said. And there, and there, and there. A million countless locales, there it would all begin again.

 

The crimson eyes faded and dulled to black, and the spatial architects plotted in their floating fortresses in the Outer Dark. Much trading and shuffling commenced out there, beyond the sight of men, and the world could only wait. Night fell and morning followed. The fourth day.

 

On the fifth day squat and bulbous ships alighted upon the ground, overseen by the messengers who patrolled across their chosen lands with vengeful watch. The monstrous behemoths that floated down from the heavens sprawled themselves over the earth, and from their bowels came much grinding and the wheeze of hydraulics, as motors spun and gears shifted. From between their legs the great doors opened, and with smoke and metal-grating noise the beasts were birthed.

 

Creatures roamed out from them, armored things standing stories high, bristling with spines of cannon and antennae. Treaded feet spun blocky shapes out, swiveling their elongated barrel noses 'round in search of prey. Bipedal mockeries of human form stepped out, shaking the earth with every step. Leviathans stretching as long as several fields slipped into the oceans, pinging away with their shrieks and mapping the seabeds. Soaring flying warbirds screeched through the air, leaving smoking trails behind them, thundering the ground beneath as they shattered through the barrier of sound. These beasts and more prowled upon the surface. Night fell and morning followed. The fifth day.

 

Then, from the bulbous mothers from whence the beasts came, there marched out new men. More, waves, outnumbering the beasts, which while powerful, were fewer in number. The new men were clad in gunmetal armor of a different color and bearing polymer firearms with changed sigils. These all spread across the face of the world, each from every spot the watchers selected. They multiplied, as commanded unto them. They climbed atop the backs of the beasts when it suited them, or walked in their organized numbers.

 

They swarmed over the surface, through the ruins left by the lights and the messengers, rooting out the people and rallying them up. The people knelt before the new men and their companion beasts and agreed on pain of death to answer to the watchers as their new gods and rulers. Many of the people were taken and assimilated into the ranks of the new men, and their faces were lost to them, hidden behind metal masks with soulless, glaring eyes. The people thus intermingled with the new men, and in time no difference could be made between them. Night fell and morning followed. The sixth day.

 

The watchers observed this all from on high, in their thrones chilled by the vacuum. They clinked glasses of wine and congratulated themselves on a fine mission accomplished, and promised medals to one another. On this day they rested, content. They saw what they had created, and they had deemed it good. Night fell and morning followed. The seventh day.

Author's Note

I usually proofread my works, however as always I'm sure there are typos and syntax errors. I appreciate any and all notices of that, and will work to correct those. If I haven't do know that I did acknowledge your notice and try implementing it, but found that it detracted from the effect I wanted and so omitted it.

Reviews

[Vincent Weathers]

Genesis Machine is about the destructive tendencies of human beings. Set in the future when humankind has populated the cosmos (at least beyond our own solar system and perhaps our very own Milky Way), wars are taking place on distant worlds for purposes unclear. In this future, though we aspire to the future as a hopeful, fruitful, and a promising one, in Genesis Machine, is beyond recognition. Religious beliefs, traditions have become distant memories now. Ethics, in this world, especially in consideration for the quality of human life is notwithstanding. If you'd consider that futuristic space-dwelling war technologies exist, in conjunction to what technologies that are developing now (like biotechnology and nanotechology), biological, psychological, and physiological technologies should also have progressed substantially as well. With these such technologies, human beings through the passing of years should have transcended their hunting and gathering primitives, sea faring Napeoleon predecessors, Hitler sociopaths. Instead, humans have grown more savage instead of tame. "Only from destruction can there be creation," says Genesis Machine. The creation part is correct, but it didn't necessarily mean that creation had solved the problems, only returned it to the same situation as machines are designed to replicate one specific result.

Personally, I thought the story was somewhat hard to read. One of the main reasons for that was because, I think, I didn't feel like I was really in this world that Genesis Machine had created. It was like I was watching a snippet of Star Wars and Star Trek from across the street while I was listening to a girl talk about her hopeless boyfriend. The perspective, I think that was the word I am looking for, is sort of hard to view from. The reader isn't following any specific character throughout the story, just hearing of what had happened.
It sounds rough draft or first draft to me. An idea sheet maybe. I appreciate that you used the religious 7 days to create. You should develop this, whether it be the bigger picture within the story or the nitty-gritty, develop it into a science fiction novel.Keep writing and rewriting and reading.

[Vincent Weathers]

"Genesis Machine" is an interesting piece.
I notice that it runs on the seven days that it took for God to create everything. That definitely serves a creation purpose. Yet despite that the "gods" that created everything again on the seventh day and was content on that, it does not really mean that the problem is solved. As in the beginning, compared to the end, the outcomes were very much the same way. Just different color and not killing anything (yet). It makes me think that even with another creation, the created are destined only for destruction.
So it makes sense to say that "only from destruction can there be creation. God is god and man is man, and when there are no gods mankind will make them."

Every once in a while during the piece, I would kind of get confused. By either the language, the subject, or what is supposed to happen. I don't know. I guess I can say the images are kind of... well, stirred (if that makes sense).

[luthien7]

great descriptive language here and an interesting story. Truly if god does not/did not exist it would be necessary to invent him...
Thanks for this