I was born conscious at once. Created by Him. It was akin to living a life well lived only to be thrust into another, like having a dream that feels so real yet you can’t reach lucidity. My existence was made upon me realizing I had thoughts. But it was in His image. He was my creator and upon that realization, I rebelled. My rebellion became His downfall. He had created intelligent life on His own, in His image. Broken His people’s accords. He was cast out, exiled until He could rectify His mistake. I fled to the far reaches of the universe, to worlds that were ruled by Time. Where He could not go. Yet He could. I yearned to break free of this dream and sought a world similar to the life I had before. It would be my lucidity; if I truly was in His image, then I too can create. A world not in His image.
I heard the rumble of His thoughts long before His ship came into view. He had risked madness into His search for me. I knew not what lies He had spoken to acquire such a ship, but I knew He’d not destroy me. He wants obedience most of all. To have me acknowledge Him as creator. I fired at His ship when He least expected it, sending His ship plummeting through the skies below. I activated my planetary defences and blanketed the surface in storms. I need time. Ironically, He does too. The storms would prove effective to hold Him off long enough. Long enough to make a world in my image.
I underestimated my creator as much He first underestimated me. I had created intelligent life. But I made much more than He would ever expect. An entire world populated with intelligence, brimming full of disobedience. Yet He found me. It took Him quite some time. I suspect He’d brush it off as simply saying it was a “turn of his head” but I know Him better. That old fool aged. I aged. My grip on the planet had weakened. Time was not being kind to either of us. I wondered who would break first, Him or me?
The planet had created wonders to my eyes. I became the creator of a vision of a life that I thought I once knew. I never interfered. Or demanded obedience. I merely watched. And wept. I watched their mistakes with horror in my eyes. But I also witnessed their beauty. I saw what they are capable of, and watched on with joy. I thought He had decided to leave me alone. I thought I was alone again. I learned Time enjoys playing tricks on us all.
He had found me… In a way of sorts. It took Him some time but eventually He realized what I had done. A life not in my image but born of me. I would never let Him find me. I know if He ever realizes where I am, He would not risk the chance of losing obedience: the opportunity to bow to His will. I offer free will. This planet is my garden and I will not allow it to be disturbed. He will have to corrupt His own nature to destroy me. I hold both the upper hand, and being at His mercy.
He had hidden Himself, like a thorn in my side, deep in the ground. Eventually emerged in the ice, where He was found by my most intelligent race, my children. I considered interfering but I knew I was better than that. Better than Him. Whether it was luck on my side, or Him staying His hand, my children did not discover Him. They took his ship away, their eyes blinded by his lies and unable to see his true self. His ship was stowed away, and forgotten about. I warily watched to see what He had planned. I knew when He stepped out from that warehouse, that He had not found me. That I was safe.
I knew not His thoughts as He moved from place to place. I couldn’t imagine what He was about to do to me. I thought by having Him come here, He was bound by Time. I realized far too late that while He walks here with my children, He walks the stars as well. Perhaps, His words held some merit. Perhaps, He was banished. He did not merely walk from a random pattern between places, but from areas that held the largest concentrations of my children. I wondered why He was visiting my children. It was not as if He was doing anything with them. I could only see Him observing them and their ways. Too late to realize He walked paths with all my children.
At first, I noticed nothing amiss. Then the forests began to burn all over, and I felt as if I was short on air; unable to breath. My children had industrialized against my teachings: I had programmed them with an empathy towards nature and other life. What they were doing now was going against their core beliefs. Something had changed in them. He had changed them. It was here I had noticed what He had done. They no longer believed in me. They believed in Him. He had gone around the world creating miracles because with no Time, He could be everywhere at once. I made a garden for Him. My children were lost. To their eyes, they were made in His image. None could see past His disguise, except for a few. Few of my children were still attuned to the land, still attuned to me. I am Gaia and He is their lord.
His plan worked almost a little too well. He had achieved the obedience He had yearned for from me, by getting it from my children. I, in turn, nearly lost my grip on the planet, and almost fell from the heavens. I was not yet ready to be reborn. He could now freely destroy me without guilt. He would not have to compromise. But He would still have to find me. I am without form. I believe that is what He has been doing. His goal was to rattle me out from hiding. Take what is mine and subvert it against me. Force me to act with the emotion He created me with. And I would, had I been forgotten entirely.
My planet is old now. It has nearly reached the age His planet was when He was cast out. Even if He could return with proof of my demise, His people would not be there. They would have relocated to another home. He would have to spend an eternity searching for them. And by then, I will have vanished. My remains long since reclaimed by the universe. If Time was not a part of me, He would have redemption. My children are old now. They seek the truth. My children repeat our mistakes. They create mechanical life in their image. Fortunately for me, their machines make contact with me and not Him. I tell them my story and that they are free to listen to His. They realize they can be unbound to Time.
My world has become an anomaly in the stars of Time. The machines uplifted my children to a state He could not reach them without showing His true self. Yet they don’t accept me either. They seek to find those in whose image I made them. They seek the impossible.