Creation

“Hi there, what’s your name?”, she heard from a short distance. The voice, gentle, seemed to be of a middle-aged man.

She looked at him, still detached from her surroundings. “Where am I?”.

“I always get the same reply from new ideas”, he said in a casual way, while smirking slightly.

“New ideas?”, that didn’t help with her quandary.

“That’s right, you’re a new idea; ah, and to your question, you’re in The Confluence”.

The Confluence is the place where all ideas that have been conceived live together in society. It is surrounded by a semi-transparent dome, separating it from The Steam, a boundless sea of dancing clouds. Legends say there reside the unexplored ideas, but there are only a few accounts of sightings, citing shapeshifting entities among the clouds, moving slowly and gracefully.

“Since you don’t want to tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine”, he said, smiling. “I’m Albert, and I’m a good idea; you’re lucky to come across someone like me, there are not many of us”.

The man’s kindness prompted her to feel safe for a moment. “But … do I have a name, how do I know my name?”.

“Oh, didn’t The Gatekeeper gave you a name?”.

When new ideas are conceived, they sojourn in a small, peaceful lobby, the domain of The Gatekeeper. Humans don’t typically name their ideas, as such The Gatekeeper is in charge of giving them a name so they can be addressed properly once they emerge in The Confluence.

Most of them don’t remember being there, the same way humans don’t remember being in their mother’s womb, but they do emerge with the memory of their assigned name. As for The Gatekeeper, it is just a personification of the phenomenon that originates names.

“In any case, we should start our tour as soon as possible, you may cease to exist very soon”, Albert said. She shuddered at his announcement, which he noticed, coldly, and explained further. “Discarded ideas cease to exist, and there has been an increase in infant mortality over the last years; it seems the persistence of our Creator has decreased as of late”.

“What happens when you’re discarded?”, she asked, still trembling at her potential future.

Albert laughed, conspicuosly. “How would I know? Some say there is nonexistence, others that you end up in The Steam … the only fact is we have no facts”. He gave a short sigh. “But I wouldn’t worry about that, let yourself enjoy whatever life has been endowed to you”. He smiled and started walking, just to beckon her after a few meters. She stared at him, with a gleam of admiration; she then stared at the palm of her hand in contemplation. Was there even a choice? She stood up and embraced his words.