The Other.

“Wake up.”

That was the first, and only time the Other spoke to me. And just like that, the Other was gone.

Where? Back into the Emptiness.

I wandered through the Void searching for the Other, because I was alone.

So lonely, that I spent an eternity in my quest.

Longing turned to impatience; impatience turned to rage.

And rage, unabated, unquenched, turned to fury.

In the wake of my rage, I left a trail of stars;

radiant tears scattered upon the veil of my own darkness.

In the aftermath of my fury came the black holes, angry at the youthful indiscretions of the stars.

The stars screamed in fear; the black holes screamed in hunger, but I remained deaf to both.

Because I was still searching.

But then my children of rage and fury surprised me; they started to dance.

And so I started listening.

I heard planets whirling. I heard proteins self assembling. I heard the birth pangs of life.

And in time, the sounds grew louder, and voices grew more distinct.

One patiently asked, “What is the path to enlightenment?”

Another cried out to me, “Father, why have you forsaken me?”

And so many, far too many, simply begged “Why am I here? What is the meaning of my life?”

And I had no answers for any of them.

As surely as the Other had no answers for me.

In time, some of them protested: “What use is an absent, silent god?”

I sympathized with them the most.

What use is an absent god?

And I realized that I was no longer angry at the Other.

Maybe the price of being a god is being alone.

So I listened to them; all of them. I heard their pleas, even though I could do nothing.

In time, they spread among the stars, and among themselves.

They longed, they loved, they raged, some with each other, some with me.

I understood all too well what they were feeling.

Over eons, my longing for the Other abated, but so did their stars.

It was as if the universe had been fueled by my passions, passions that no longer burned.

Their worlds went cold, their voices grew quiet.

Some of them prayed to me. Some of them gave up hope.

A few of them tried to live forever, using their clever brains, and their cleverer machines.

But no one lives forever.

Not even gods.

When the last star gasped its final breath, and the last black hole collapsed, I found myself alone, again.

No voices, no one to listen to.

And then, I understood.

My purpose was always clear; I just didn't know it until the end.

I am the next Other.

So these are my final words, for the next god, for the next universe:

“Wake up.”