New Stories from Old Stardust

This is a creation myth. It is part art, part science, and part religion, but more than anything it is play.

The movement of heaven is full of power.
Thus the superior man makes himself strong and untiring.

The earth's condition is receptive devotion.
Thus the superior man who has breadth of character carries the outer world.

—The I, Ching, from hexagrams 1 and 2, respectively.

In a beginning, a whisper grew into a roar, echoing in the void. Chaos gave birth to the cosmos. Time stretched, and space expanded. The universe forfeited a few of its secrets as redshift and background radiation.

The All was the Law.

From this far-flung stardust, celestial bodies ignited, and worlds formed, looping in gravity, bonding, and bouncing. Collisions crafted star cathedrals. First-wave stardeaths transmuted light atoms into heavy elements—celestial alchemy for a second stellar wave.

In a forgotten corner of this gallery, in a spiral galaxy, a blue planet spun around a modest yellow star. The loyal moon’s gentle rocking lulled its susurrous surfaces. Nearby, Jove, a gas giant, stood sentinel to absorb cosmic debris. With the blue orb protected, primordial ponds teemed with first stirrings.

Chirality is handedness. Iotas in the primordial soup demonstrate chiral properties, making them part of another great story that is also small.

Once upon a time, two types of iotas floated in soup, one left-handed and one right-handed. They obeyed certain rules, as a contract with the All bound them.

The All was the Law.

Those called Yd Shml went straight until they encountered another iota. If Yd Shml encountered another Yd Shml, they bonded. If Yd Shml encountered a Yd Ymn, they bounced.

Those called Yd Ymn went straight until they encountered another iota. If Yd Ymn encountered another Yd Ymn, they bonded. If Yd Ymn encountered a Yd Shml, they bounced.

The Observers call bonding catalyzation.
The Observers call bouncing reaction.

As more iotas bonded and bounced, newer, larger iotas formed and complexified. Then, new sets emerged, bonding and bouncing according to different rules, on and on, until the primordial pond became a cosmos unto itself. It swarmed, expanding quickly in complexity. The combinatorial effects of all this bonding and bouncing, the Observers called synthesis. The process continued in uncountable cycles. Somewhere along the way, combined iotas became life.

The All was the Law.

From simple to complex, flora and fauna exploded. Adjacent possibles fanned outward like fern fronds, opening to new rooms that opened to new rooms that opened to new rooms. Ecosystems sprawled along verdant vessels in the planet’s crust. New life forms rode waves of change until, eventually, some succumbed to Zurvan.

Monster empires rose and fell among the myriad forms to make fossil layers. The great ones feasted on the rainforest canopy. The fast ones drank blood and crushed bone. The sly ones lurked in the deep. In one particular wave—once the fires had fallen from the sky and the sun had returned after a long disappearance—smart apes rose on hind legs, grew thumbs, and stole fire. Curiosity glinted in their eyes. They learned, grew, conquered the world, and pondered it too.

The All was the Law.

After eons of synthesis loops, this race of apes became cunning and powerful enough to destroy itself. One such ape, gifted with the quill, etched this tale into memory.

From the cosmic cauldron to the words you read, our story lies somewhere between past and future, poetry and prose, sprouting from current cosmic configurations. After this, the story is yours to write. Inscribe it in the Temple of Wisdom before Zurvan has his-and-her way, and the All tells new stories in old stardust.

Editor’s Note: I have been straying from ordinary prose of late. Maybe it’s a midlife crisis. If you love or hate this turn, please let me know in the comments or by replying directly. I am here to serve both of us, after all.