(no subject)

[toothycat]

Original here.

Shambambukli the demiurge smiled brightly at the human.
"Greetings! Finally, my world has prophets too."
"Indeed." The man nodded reservedly. "I have the honour of speaking to Shambambukli the demiurge?"
"Yes, it's me. Here, sit, have a seat. Please, have some tea, and here are some cakes - help yourself. I've got some lovely commandments prepared for you, you'll have something to say when you get back..."
"Regretfully, I must decline." The man made a display of sighing in empathy. "The holy trance is not easy to enter, and my highly-trained spirit only has about half an hour for a conversation. So, if you don't mind, let us get straight down to business."
"Yes, of course. If it's this urgent... Here, this basket has the scrolls, I wrote them just this morning..."
The man, paying not the slightest attention to the proffered basket, sat on a chair in front of the demiurge, rummaged around in his flat leather briefcase and pulled out a notebook.
"So, let us begin. Your flock wishes to know, is your name really Shambambukli, or is this a pseudonym used by a group of demiurges?"
"Uh..."
"I see. Next question. You took part in the creation of the world. If you had the opportunity, what would you change?"
"Just a minute, now..."
"I see. Which one in particular? The first minute of creation?"
"That's not what I meant..."
"I knew it. Of course it is a pity when right from the very beginning things go differently to what was planned!"
"But nothing is going..."
"All the more, then."
Shambambukli the demiurge dropped into a puzzled silence.
"Next question. How do you feel about the declaration of Gog as High Prasol?"
"What...?"
"Ah, I see, you are indignant. Me too. Let us not, then, spend too much time on this question. On to the next. What are your main hobbies?"
"Wait..." Shambambukli the demiurge attempted to reinject some common sense into the conversation. "I have a basket here..."
"Ah, you weave baskets in your spare time? A very productive hobby. And what are your sexual preferences? Do you have a partner?"
"You mother-%*...!", Shambambukli shouted.
"Oh!" The man's eyebrows shot up in delight. "My mother? You? Personally?" He scribbled furiously in his notebook.
"And in conclusion, your plans for the future?"
"Just one more word..." Shambambukli hissed, "and I with my own hands...!"
"So you have another Word planned? Well, thank you for the Revelation", the man bowed quickly, shoved his papers into his briefcase and disappeared.

He was the but first prophet of several thousand...





Original here.

"Just listen to these commandments I made up! You'll wet yourself laughing!"
Shambambukli the demiurge looked at the sheet of paper in the demiurge Mazukta's hands.
"Commandments...?"
"Yup. It's a very entertaining game. You give people an order and then see how they carry it out."
"Let's see, then..."
Shambambukli the demiurge took the piece of paper and read the first phrase.
"'Don't stand under arrows'... what does it mean?"
"It's not meant to mean anything, it's a commandment. It just needs to sound weighty and commanding."
"Wait, I don't think I understand..."
"There's nothing to understand!" Mazukta took the paper back. "To put meaning into commandments is a stupid and thankless task. I used to do that myself at first, and then I realised it was quite meaningless."
"But why?"
"Because people feel as much need for advice as fish for bicycles! They'll interpret any words however they like best anyway. Or in some completely idiotic fashion. Just so they don't have to follow instructions."
Shambambukli blinked in incomprehension. Mazukta sighed.
"Right. Let me explain. Once, for instance, I gave people this useful commandment: 'Wash your hands before you eat.'"
"A very admirable thing to say!", Shambambukli noted.
"Hm... Yes. Here, check this out."
Mazukta reached out and pulled four thick books, one after another, from a shelf.
"What's this?", Shambambukli spoke in surprise.
"Wise men's commentaries. Just for this one commandment. They were trying to work out what 'before' meant."
Shambambukli whistled.
"Impressive... And what conclusions did they come to in the end?"
"Well, in short - they declared that the period of time between the washing of the hands and the eating of food must be no less than six hours. And on the days when they have to wash their hands with soap, they fast."
"And... what is the purpose of that?", Shambambukli asked carefully.
"There is none. That is, it is assumed there must be some. But a higher one. Unreachable by human understanding."
Shambambukli grunted untrustingly.
"Or here," Mazukta continued, "'Don't walk on the grass.' People argued for almost two hundred years about what I meant. In the end, going by contextual hints, with much input from linguists, they concluded that this form of the verb - 'walk' - is used in this context to underline that grass verges should not be traversed barefoot, lightly loaded or slowly. In boots, on the other hand, running and laden with a rucksack, is not only permitted but actively recommended."
"Brr!" Shambambukli commented.
"So, now it is simply a game for me," Mazukta concluded. "I make a couple of dozen commandments, and then watch how the humans pervert them. Sometimes it's really funny! You should try it."
Shambambukli shrugged.
"Well, if you don't want to, you don't have to," Mazukta said. "Only, when you start to teach your humans, remember my words. Commandments should be precise, clear, inadmitting of any multiple interpretations and uncomplicated to follow..."
"I don't intend to give anyone any commandments," Shambambukli interrupted.
"What do you mean?", Mazukta asked, startled.
"Well... just that. If humanity is not capable of working out for itself what is permissible and what is not - who needs it, such humanity?





Original here.

The narrow cell glowed with numinous light and a shining figure appeared before the prisoner.
"Are you not the great learned astronomer Barmaleo Barmalei?", the figure asked.
"That is I", the prisoner nodded. "With whom do I have the privilege of conversing?"
"I am your demiurge."
"Shambambukli?"
"Yes, that is what they call me."
"A pleasure."
"Mutual."
The demiurge and the astronomer bowed politely to each other.
"Would it be all right to dim the light a little?", Barmaleo Barmalei asked. "It is a little painful on the eyes."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Shambambukli stopped shining and instantly lost his majestic appearance. "Is that better?"
"Much! May I ask to what I owe the pleasure...?"
"It is very simple," Shambambukli replied readily. "Tomorrow at dawn, you will come before the Learned Council of the Great Inquisition. And you will be sentenced to a painful death. And that is wrong."
"Wrong - because I am right?"
"No, because I pity you."
Barmaleo Barmalei thought for a minute.
"But it turns?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"No," Shambambukli shook his head. "It does not turn. I can tell you this quite certainly."
"It cannot be!" Barmaleo frowned. "I have studied this question from all sides for thirty years and three, made masses of measurements, and with all authority I declare: it turns! I can prove it."
"You cannot", the demiurge replied. "Because it really doesn't. You've made a mistake somewhere."
"I can't have made a mistake!" Barmaleo Barmalei struck his knee with a fist. "I studied the stars, I even invented the telescope for this purpose. I have checked my calculations a dozen times. There is no mistake!"
"Clearly, there must be one." The demiurge smiled kindly, as though talking to a child. "I would not like you to be executed; I wanted to save you, and so I came here to assure you in person..."
"I don't need such a rescue!" The astronomer pouted. "I don't need your saving lies, I stood and will stand for the truth!"
"Are you seriously trying to say I am lying?!", the demiurge asked in surprise.
"I believe I have already so said. Lies for salvation and all that... No, I don't need that. Thank you, of course, but I will manage without."
"Listen," said Shambambukli after a brief silence. "This world I created with these hands," he showed his palms to the astronomer, "and who but me is to know what turns and what does not? I am telling you as the greatest specialist in this matter..."
"I don't believe you!" Barmaleo cut him off. "Still it turns! And that is a fact!"
"It does not turn!"
"It turns!"
"Bet you my tooth, it does not turn!"
"I swear on my mother it does!"
The demiurge loomed over the astronomer, hands at his sides. The astronomer stared back insolently.
"So is that how it is?"
"Yes!"
"Very well, then. I'll show you... I'll show you right now...!"
The demiurge Shambambukli grabbed Barmaleo Barmalei by the scruff of the neck and shot up through the prison's stone walls, through the clouds and through the thin ozone layer. The astronomer didn't even have time to squeak before he found himself standing next to the demiurge on the balcony of the latter's sky dwelling.
"There, see for yourself!" Shambambukli pointed downwards. "Look and convince yourself that it moves steadily and in a straigh..."
Shambambukli choked on his sentence and stared at the scene before him in perplexion.
Eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, the giant turtle swung and spun in slow circles, entranced by the music of the spheres. On its shell, three elephants milled gracelessly, trying to step in time to the beat. The earth, lying across their backs, tilted from one side to the other, causing the tides.
"There, didn't I tell you?!", Barmaleo Barmalei exclaimed triumphantly. "Still it turns!"
"What a mess!", Shambambukli spoke, affronted. "Who put on this psychedelic theme? I ordered a march!"
He sighed, pulled out a tooth and passed it to the astronomer.
"Here. You were right."
"I told you, and you didn't believe me." Barmaleo Barmalei raised a didactical finger. "Science does not persist in mistakes! Otherwise it is called pseudoscience."
"All right." Shambambukli waved at him. "So, what are we going to do with the Inquisition tomorrow?"
"Oh, forget the Inquisition!" Barmaleo Barmalei shrugged carelessly. "I'll make some lie up, it's hardly important! It doesn't matter any more, because..." His eyes shone with fanatical delight. "Still it turns!"

Comments

[woodpijn.livejournal.com]

Yay.
I'm very much enjoying these, even though I haven't commented before now.

I just spotted one typo:
"Just so they don't have follow instructions."
should presumably be
"Just so they don't have to follow instructions."

[toothycat]

Oops - thanks! ^_^

[alextfish.livejournal.com]

Delightful!