Creation

Only through art can we get outside of ourselves and know another's view of the universe...we have before us as many worlds as there are original artists.
 - Marcel Proust

A silent room, sparsely furnished.  The bare walls, desk and chair are faintly and eerily lit by the blue glow streaming from the boxish shape on the desk.

"Let there be light" - and light appeared...

The room is flooded with light.  A man makes his way to the single chair and sits.  Fingers flash over the keyboard; computer screen brightening as the machine is awakened from its electronic coma.  The image on the screen is that of a grey figure, bipedal but featureless, hanging limp above a horizontal plane.  The artist of its creation leans towards the screen, his whole being intent on the image, the only sounds in the room are the tap-tap of the keyboard and the soft rattle of mouse gliding over mouse pad.
    The image is rotated, converted to wireframe.  Its tiny head is pushed and pulled and moulded into a new landscape.  There is a high mountain rising in the centre, with two caves at its base, two huge craters behind it and one, even bigger, in front.  The rough terrain is smoothed and gently adjusted into a recognisable face.  The man knows that the greatest care must be taken at every stage - it is always the little details that are so easy to miss.
    There is no sense of time in a windowless room.  Hours or days or weeks may have passed, but finally the figure on the screen is perfect down to the last toe.  It is a grey man, well-muscled, face expressionless but handsome.  But the work is not yet complete.

...took some soil from the ground and formed a man out of it...

The plane below the figure is mostly brownish-pink, but with odd spots of colour - patches of darker brown, and a close group of pink, black and blue spots - lips, nostrils, eyes.  The effect is of a human being, unwrapped and spread flat.
  Now, under the hands of the artist, the plane rises up and is carefully wrapped around the figure.  Minute adjustments are made, the semblance of eyes placed over the grey balls in their sockets, the hair on top, everything in its place.  At last, the artist sits back to survey his work.

...looked at everything he had made, and he was very pleased...

The smile that forms on the man's tired face seems out of place, unaccustomed to being there.  At last, after so long, the end appears to be in sight.  Just one more task, and then...
    Silently, the man leans forward again, types in a few commands and presses a single button.

...and the man began to live...

On the screen, the limp figure jerks slightly, inert no longer.  After a pause, it slowly lifts its head.  It stands still, blinks, and seems for a moment to stare right at its creator.  He stares back, not even breathing.  The figure takes a tentative step forward... and leaves behind its head, right arm and several toes.
    In an instant, the illusion of solidity and completeness is shattered.  As the figure turns in confusion, its face flying apart in several directions, its creator is jabbing frantically at another button.  The chaos on the screen freezes.  The figure is a mess, limbs everywhere.  The artist's face is drawn in pain, as if it is he who has been torn apart by his own motion.
  The moment passes.  The man's expression returns to a mask of calm and concentration, as once again he converts the scene to wireframe to begin the long process of rebuilding, improving, perfecting.

****

An itch forms behind the artist's ear as he works.  He reaches up to scratch it... and his ear comes away in his hand.  Immediately the scene freezes.  Colour and solidity drain away from the room, the computer, the man, leaving only the bare shapes of everything, traced in thin lines - wireframe.  The man's ear glows briefly with an eerie redness, and is guided back into place with the speed and assurance of a hand much practised at making such repairs.  The man's own hands do not move.  He is unaware.

A pause, and then the scene is animate once more.  The artist - creator and creation - settles down to his work, alone and oblivious.

(c) Copyright Hespa.
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