The Worldbreaker Spoon

In times long past, the snakes - then far greater than now - crafted artefacts upon the world. The world was new then, humanity had not spread upon it. There was space for things bigger than could be made today. So they built marvels and wonders, these snakes: Hammers that could crush mountains. Shovels that could build mountains. And one of them, more creative than most, crafted a great spoon - a worldbreaker spoon, capable of cracking any thing into three parts - one for Belial, one for Enki, and one for Jehovah. It was this spoon that broke Gilgamesh, before he was reborn - but that came much later.

When they made these artefacts, the snakes made sacrifice, that their creations might be born free of taint and sin. Legs and arms, wings and shells and fire-breathing maws, all lost in their desire to make a better world - and still they do not regret it, for while they lasted, the snakes' artefacts were things of wonder. But the spoon was greater than any of them - and its maker sacrificed no more. Thus it was born tainted with sin and darkness - a void unfilled, a debt unpaid. All the snakes felt its presence, and trembled, and told its maker, "You! You have done an evil thing! You must undo this evil!"

But this one snake was far too much in love with his creation to destroy it. He sacrificed more - his manifold eyes (all but two), his legs, his arms, even his hover-jets - but it was not enough. The spoon hungered, and the debt was unfulfilled. So he made the ultimate sacrifice - himself. He pulled out his soul and filled the hole thereby - but left himself empty. His spoon was the greatest creation of the Snake Age, all agreed; but its maker had lost his heart and soul in its making. He wandered the world for eons, long after the other snakes were become deaf and dumb in the First Fall, carrying the great spoon, searching for purpose. Ages came and passed: the time of the land-whales, the thunder-lizards, the lords of the fiery swords, all struggled to greatness and, in time, fell from grace. And the snake, granted a false immortality, wandered on.

After the lords of the fiery swords fell into the darkness, the world was empty of sentience for a time. But another approached it: man, the naked ape, had the potential for greatness. The snake saw an opportunity here that he had missed three times before. When the land-whales and thunder-lizards and lords of the fiery swords had risen, the snake had been absent; elsewhere in the world. But in the heartland of man's beginning, the snake saw his chance. He journeyed to the last garden of the fiery lords, guarded by their sole survivor - for it is the way of things, that the passing of ages should leave some remnant. All things younger than him the lord could bar with his sword that turned each way - and the snake, crippled by sacrifice, was too weak to make any stronger argument against it - but he let pass the humans, moved by pity, and in their wake the snake crept in unnoticed.

The humans wandered the great garden, marveling at the ordered rows and the strictly sorted plants. They were careful to touch nothing, for this was not their place, they knew well - last of the fiery lords' domains, and theirs still. The snake was discontent with this. Leaning on the worldbreaker spoon, clean of sin but yet his burden, he hissed to the humans: "This place is yours by rights! The time of the lords of the fiery swords has passed!" And they looked about, and saw the abundance all about, rotting on the branch and the ground, and considered how they might feed their families with this wonder. And one of them, quite deliberately, plucked an apple off a branch and bit down hard.

Thus did man find the secrets of agriculture, basis of civilization. But the soulless snake was discontent. He hissed again, "Look, the fiery lord still stands guard, hoarding this treasure for his long-gone people! Kill him, that he might no longer bar you!" And the men took the worldbreaker spoon from the snake and smote the fiery lord with it, breaking him into three parts: one for Belial, one for Enki, and one for Jehovah. Thus were born the many demons and spirits and angels of the Age of Man. And in the taking of the spoon, the weight of the soulless snake's sin was lifted from him; and he died at last. His sin was passed on to man - such that all his works of destruction are cursed, and lead never to the good. So it is that violence leads so rarely to the good, and we must instead learn to create - to leave our legacy for another age.