On The Eve Of The Fall

What if the biologists are right, and the X chromosome preceded the Y? Who was Lilith? Why is the Jewish mind so complicated? And what was the real story of the Fall? Does it matter? This is an incomplete tale. Someone else might want to finish it.

He was always very kind to me.

“Will you serve me directly? I need an independent eye,” he said. “Nothing else I have created is your master.”

There was an aura around him which I couldn’t look at directly. It irritated the eye, so I narrowed mine as I looked off-centre at him. “Lord,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “Under what terms and conditions shall I serve?”

He laughed. It made my hair stand; looking back over my long existence, if anything has ever made me as afraid, such a thing is nowhere near that laugh. He had already chosen his words carefully, and I hadn’t noticed.

Then he told me about the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge. It was a large garden we were in, and I had free run of it. There were restrictions on those trees though, and he was quite clear about those restrictions. I’ve never liked restrictions, and he knew this. He knew everything.

So I asked him, “What lies beyond the Garden?”

He looked very distant. I shielded my eyes and tried to look through the glare into his. I didn’t understand his expression then; now I know it was something close to sadness. He can look sad, you know — and when he does, it’s worse than anything Man can feel.

He said, “You’ll find out.” And he walked away.

I made up my own names for the other inhabitants. Some of them were just begging to be called ‘idiot thing’ or ‘short-sighted bigot’, but I was judicious and dutiful in my doings. I was never wrong in my choices, but sometimes he would say, “Let’s keep that name a secret between you and me.”

He liked to chat with me. I didn’t mind just sitting around and listening; he had a marvellous voice whenever he chose to use it. He would ask questions, and although I sensed he had the answers, I always felt that he really wanted to hear me talk. I obliged, and asked a few questions of my own.

There were some questions he wouldn’t answer, and I got rather frustrated. One day I refused to talk to him. He knew it was coming, of course, but he was sad anyway. That made me feel bad, but I persevered. I’m good at that: when he made me, he made me well.

He sighed after a while. I looked away, and when I looked back, he was gone. Feeling a little unsettled, I curled up and went to sleep.

When I awoke, he was sitting in front of me. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about this for some time,” he began.

I was alert in a flash. He never sounds this evasive, because he doesn’t really have anything to hide. He just either tells or fails to tell. This was something new, and it disconcerted me.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. An ally, if you will. The two of you could conceivably form a very strong complementary partnership. You can see things it can’t, it’s physically stronger, that sort of thing.”

I was outraged. I had always thought autonomy was a given. I told him so. He said, “Yes, you are free to choose. So is it. Remember that, when the time comes.”

We didn’t get along very well. The other creature was a little clumsy, and its hair was far less beautiful than mine. It was less graceful, more prone to obsession, fascinated with its own intelligence, and very sure of itself. I avoided it, and it didn’t seem to notice. I tried affection. It seemed to like that, but it wasn’t very good at reciprocating.

When he came by a few days later, I told him what I thought about the new creature. He sighed, but this time, he stayed.

After enduring my abuse for some time, he said, “There will come a time when it will need your company, your friendship, your ability to see what cannot be seen by it. And on that day, and ever after, you must make that decision to help it or not.”

He looked at me with the Look. It’s the one he uses when he is trying to show you that he is really on your side, but that he knows infinitely more than you do, and you should just have a bit of faith and do whatever it is he would prefer you to do.

I’ve always been a cynic by nature, but the Look tends to persuade me to be idealistic for a while.

I sighed back at him. “Yes, Lord. But it will be my choice, in the end, right?”

“Your will is free. Not all my creation is so fortunate. And yet, it’s not going to be all the rest of my creation that will be the troublesome part.”

I should have listened more carefully. As he made his way out of the garden, his aura dimming and then fading with the rest of him, I wondered how far free will extended. From experiment, I knew that sheer willpower could not overcome gravity (although you could avoid some of its possible effects with enough skill), could not overcome fatigue (although you could fight it for a while), and could not overcome hunger (although you could probably die trying).

In the next few days, I was to find out what else willpower was insufficient for. For the moment, however, I resolved to be skilful, sleep a lot, and eat wisely.

And what if I were to tell you that the narrator was not human? What would you think the true story was then? I fold my arms and rest, secure in the knowledge that if this is a revelation, nobody would believe it; and if this is a dream, I am the only one who has dreamt it.