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I have books, lots of them, thousands, tens of thousands; I am obsessed with knowledge and wisdom and despite what you may think now, probably the first time you ever noticed my existence in life, I have read them one by one just ot survive.
I read books because I am cursed with a thirst for infinitude, and inside each one of them, as you combine letters with paper and imagination, universes are born. Each book generates a new universe each time someone reads it, so if you have a book sold fifteen million times and that book is read once in a year by someone, like in libraries for example, you will have a production of fifteen million universes per year, just with that particular book that can be as silly as a comic strip or as complex as a treatise on the ancient fields of Vendian continents or the managing of dimensional rotations, being these facts of existence, if not life, but facts anyway. So, if you consider that humankind is about two million years old and could survive as a single species perhaps a million times more, from now on we would be able to produce fifteen million universes from a book per year, or fifteen billion universes thorough or human existence.
A book is something that tells things to anyone willing to read it much like each stone on our planet as well as others can reveal a lot of things to a geologist. Only the language of the message is different but both convey the story they intend. Books are placed in libraries more or less rocks are put one on top of another to make stone labyrinths; they both acquire a whole new dimension by such arrangements but let's not get into that now and suffice to say that books are produced every day and each new one has that potential: If just one book were produced just in our world - not counting many others -, we would end up as a species having produced three hundred and sixty five billion books, or universe generators. From each one of these, we presume, readers will emerge to make use for them and generate a fresh big bang every single time each book is opened and at least the first word is read. We can say that each one of these big bangs may or may not end up producing complete universes, meaning that the book will be read in its entirety, but the explosion takes place. However, to us it seems just a gesture that unfolds its cover.
And now consider that if each book is read once a year by someone and we conclude our job as part of nature with three hundred and sixty five billion books around, then how many universes will we create? More than the number of atoms contained in the creation that we inhabit, and by the Gods, that means that our power if far beyond what our creator - or author should I say? - intended or more likely, desired, for no author wants anybody to change its work in any way without his permission, and certainly, not to have it change itself, on its own. That's what happens in our universe, I guess, so I don't expect the principle of movement to come to fix things for it is most likely that by now, not even him understands what has been put in motion.
I don't intend to go into the maths involved in measuring our true power because so many zeros after zeros after zeros can become sort of diabetic for unassuming gods, but let me say that we got it all wrong all along: The universe is not expanding outwards but inwards; have you ever actually listened to a book, my friend? I mean, not just following the trail of alphabetical footprints left line after line, but to the sounds a book makes? Do you think they don't? How could you? Don't act like a deaf because only those that don't like to listen don't do so, because, remember, things go the other way around.
If you get close enough to a book you will hear it humming with all the life that is inside of it, and there is an explanation: There is, of course, the sound of galaxies going around like carousels, and the sound of souls falling into reality as each new being is conceived, like stones falling into a pond; but have you ever thought that sacred books on Earth at least have been revealed in many different ways but actually written by people? It is a clear case of characters writing about their own authors, defining or redefining them. As religions disappear we know for sure that Gods die indeed: Just look at Enki or Kummarbi. They are gone despite the songs and the fact that lots of people even grasped their existence thousands of years ago; those people wouldn't conceive a world like ours, without their Gods. We are, in other words, an impossible to them, existing just a time jump away from here.
Somewhere along the way the impossible became possible, what certain traditions like Christianity call a miracle, and it was performed by authors that continued to put into words revealed scriptures, creating universes by recipe and mandate.
The humming in those books is precisely that: I found it after carefully listening to every book in my library. They all follow similar patterns. That's the hum of authors yet defining and redefining us, their creators, when they begin to question the commandments that we gave them as we got along the creation of the plot of each novel, the basis of each thesis and the metrics of each poem put into paper. They know us by the names we gave them and then those that they give us after our deaths. Language evolves by itself; what do you think that is? After a while, characters create their authors in order to have them create them, and there is nothing that you, I or any other God can do about because when the creation turns against its master, infinitude is set to run wild and free, and that may produce more books that any library can bear and I am not sure that I would be capable of reading them all to rewrite what is rewritten about me before the end of the story.
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