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A Modern Fairy Tale

Little boy Obsidian and his sister Amber were bored. Here were two self-proclaimed child geniuses who had nothing to do. Oh, what could we do, they asked themselves. Obsidian thought about playing hide and seek, but Amber thought that that game had gotten too old. She was the type who liked to try new and spontaneous things. Her mind was twisted; she was the mastermind of all trickery. Obsidian, on the other hand, liked to lineate things. He liked order and organisation. Amber was total chaos, really. Obsidian never stood a chance in arguments against his sister: Not because he couldn’t match her wits, but because she would get violent with him, which he and his pacifist attitude didn’t quite agree with.

But then Obsidian had a revelation. Considering the fact that they had eternity to themselves, Obsidian suggested of a little experiment that he and Amber could perform together spanning billions of millennia, if not even more. It consisted of building a world from the foundation up. They would meddle with this and tinker with that, all in order to see what they could do.

Amber whispered a word into obsidian’s ear. Love, she said. He didn’t know what that meant. He, in return, responded by whispering the word hate. She did not know what this meant. Amber and Obsidian each wanted their worlds to be based on those words so they could then cure them. Amber wanted love to be erased out of existence. Obsidian hated hate, in terms that he was almost hypocritical.

Obsidian blew into space, creating a maelstrom of dust and wind, which so quickly evolved into something greater. The coldness of it all was used as an advantage to turn Amber’s spit into solid rocks where little creatures were to exist. Amber’s idea was that little creatures would be placed on specific rocks so that they could evolve, and in time, find other rocks with their ancestors. But obsidian wondered if they would have the ability to discover about their origin: Not of the originating maelstrom, but of the existence of Obsidian and Amber themselves and of The Great Experiment.

Obsidian wondered if this experiment/game had indeed gone too far, as he looked down upon the tiny creatures who were fighting against each other. It seemed whenever Obsidian would take away the world’s violence, more love would be taken out by his sister. This, in effect, was creating more apathy, more entropy. Entropy was now running rampant. Their little game had exceeded their control. Amber almost rescinded the idea of negating love, but she stood firm on her ground. Obsidian decided it was for him to take a break from the supposed responsibility. Amber, who was already quite idyllic in nature, followed in procession.

The tiny creatures continued on, now without any direction. Obsidian mentioned to Amber how he thought that one day, all would end on its own, without any help from them. They had not created just a game, but life itself, with their own thought processes and independent ability to continue.

Amber looked at him, with a wondering glance, and asked him if he believed what he had just said.

Obsidian stood speechless for a moment. And then peaked out of his mouth: It depends on what they believe. If they believe we don’t exist, we don’t. Do we?