In the beginning, there was Eden. And Eden was perfection, balanced, so that all things had its equal and its mate, and no part was disjointed or without purpose.

And God looked over what was wrought, and found that in all its harmony, there was no change, no progress, no difference from one unending, perfect day to its next. And God was bored.

So God created Man. And Man was made in the image of God, given free will and the ability to choose for himself. God created Man without a mate, for the purpose of his creation was to unbalance harmony, and to prompt change in Eden. Yet Man did nothing, for there was no purpose in unbalancing harmony, and he had no ambi­tion or desire. Eden was perfection, and Man, being imperfect, did not perform his function well. Or at all, God judged, contemplating Man.

So God made Woman out of the air of Eden and endowed her with a piece of divin­ity. In mating with her, Man would approach perfection, and fulfill his purpose.The first woman, God named Lilith. Man, encountering Lilith, was puzzled.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” Man complained to God.

Lilith smiled, showing her teeth. “Her,” she said, for she had decided opinions of her own. “I am not an ‘It.’ I am a ‘Her.’”

Man was puzzled, for -- being imperfect -- he had not troubled to become acquainted with the niceties of gender life within Eden. “Her,” he repeated, and learned that he did not like being corrected. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

God made no reply.

Lilith, however, did. Being formed of air, she had in her the knowledge possessed by air. Thus it was that she knew the ways of animal pleasure, and made sugges­tions to Man. Man was without interest, at first. However, Lilith was persuasive, and he soon found himself intrigued by Lilith's ideas. Indeed, Man found himself rapidly becoming obsessed with Lilith's ideas, and Lilith, having become swiftly bored of it, found herself far more in demand than she would have liked. As God had intended, mating with Lilith improved Man, though his purpose -- still -- was not fulfilled with any great degree of competency. The harmony of Eden remained more or less unimpaired, while Man made inroads on discovery.

There came a day when Man came to Lilith, dissatisfied. "What we do--"

"Sex."

"Sex," said the Man. "This time when we do it, I want to be on the top."

Lilith was taken aback. "Why would you want to be on top?"

"It's how the monkeys do it," Man said, and learned what it meant to be stubborn. "It's how the horses do it. It's how the cows do it. It's how the rabbits do it. It's how the--"

Lilith regarded him thoughtfully. "I see that you have been studying," she said.

Man accepted this as a compliment, and learned what it meant to feel smug. "I want to be on top."

"I don't think so," said Lilith, and left him.

Man went to God to complain, as he was wont to do, and explained the difficulty. "It's how the dogs do it," he told God. "It's how the cats do it. It's how the squirrels do it. It's how the chipmunks do it. It's how the--"

I see you have been studying, said God..

"I want to be on top," said Man.

Lilith is of me. To submit to her is to submit to the Divine, said God.

"On top," said Man.

Well, this is a problem.

Lilith, who had still the decided opinions that she had started with, listened in silence to God’s persuasion, and when God had finished, said again, “I don’t think so.”

Why not? asked God.

Lilith considered. “It doesn’t seem appropriate,” she said at last. “And anyway, I don’t like Man all that much.”

God was discovering that the newest creations of Eden were not as tractable as they could have been. It was difficult to decide whether this would be any long-term benefit or not. I made you to be his mate.

“It’s possible that we are not compatible,” mused Lilith.

God was offended. That seems unlikely. You are both imperfect.

“Excuse me,” said Lilith. “I feel quite perfect.”

God studied Lilith with blank astonishment. But you’re not.

“How do you know?”

God sighed. A moment of quiet contemplation seemed in order. Lilith was digging a hole in the turf with a stick. What are you doing?

“It’s for Man,” said Lilith, vindictively. “If he sticks his foot in the hole while he’s chasing me, maybe he’ll end up breaking his leg.”

Hm, said God. It may be time for you to move on.

Lilith agreed.

Eden and the rest of the world was, at the time, a single indistinguishable mass. God, having suggested that Lilith move on, was now placed in the inconvenient position of having no “On” for her to move to. It took deliberation and careful thought, but after several days, God separated Eden from the rest of creation. There.

For several endless days, there was peace. God, who felt the vague dissatisfaction of one whose plans had not materialized as desired, retreated into silence. Man, who had never learned the painful lesson of actions having consequences, learned what it was to be disconcerted. With no Lilith, there was also no more companion­ship of the type that he enjoyed. His studies progressed, but quicky reached a point where interactive experimentation became necessary. None of the other denizens of Eden felt any particular desire to participate in his studies with him. Man went to God and complained.

“I want her back,” Man said.

God, for the first time, began to experience exasperation. It was a new sensation. You said you wanted to be on top, God said.

This puzzled Man, who did not understand how the two thoughts were related. “I want her back.”

God, therefore, went searching for Lilith, and found her busily inventing things for her amusement. Ochre formed small, thick little puddles around her feet, while the pulp of assorted plants and flowers made bright splotches on platters of bark. From some carefully shredded twigs, Lilith had formed paintbrushes, and was recreating Eden on the walls of caves. For verity’s sake, she had included Man in her portrayal. It was not a flattering likeness.

Man wants you back, said God.

“I don’t want Man back,” said Lilith. “I am quite content, thank you.”

Why don’t you want Man back? wondered God.

Lilith paused in her rendition of a zebra, and gave it thought. “He bores me. He doesn’t have a beginning or an end. There’s nothing interesting about him.”

He chases things. God had been watching Man chase many animals lately. The ani­mals invariably escaped, which simultaneously heartened and discouraged God. It seemed that the animals had been designed with great foresight. On the other hand, it also seemed the attributes of imperfection used in Man’s design might have been a little excessive.

Lilith shrugged. She was not without a certain sympathy for God, but she knew a good thing when she saw it. “Sorry. Not interested.”

God sighed. I’ll have to make him something else, then.

This interested Lilith. “Make one for me,” she suggested. “It sometimes grows lonely out here.”

You can have--

“Not Man,” Lilith said, hastily.

God returned to Eden and found Man moping about in front of a rabbit hole. The rabbits had disappeared down its tunnel, and refused to reemerge as long as Man was about. He was rapidly becoming one of the most unpopular residents of Eden.

God drew Man aside. “Where is she?” Man asked.

She doesn’t want to come back, said God.

Man was puzzled. “She can do that?”

God sighed again. God was sighing quite a lot, now that Man was part of the equa­tion. I’ll make you someone else.

Man was still puzzled. “Who’s someone else?”

It seemed futile to explain things to Man who had, after all, already demonstrated himself to be a very hands-on self-educator. God did not bother making the effort.

As the last attempt of making a compatible woman had, by most measures, failed, God revised the procedure to produce something slightly different. Under Man’s round-eyed gaze, God molded earth from Eden’s floor to make the new woman’s skeleton. The breeze whistled through the bleached white framework, playing the pipes of its ribs. Using the skeleton as a scaffold, God made internal organs of more malleable earth and breathed into them to give them life and warmth. Intestines were wound into an organized knot, grey and slippery; the heart fluttered, red and eager; blood coursed in ribbons around the white bones. More earth was used to knit muscles in long threads, a complicated warp and weft to hide the fascinating machinery of bones and bowels. God made eyes out of pebbles and polished them with earth until they gleamed and twitched, dilating at the sun.

At the very end, God made skin, and painted it over the completed structure of bones, muscles, and organs. Hair of black. Cheeks of rose. Lips like berries.

There, said God, satisfied. Her name is--

“I don’t want her,” said Man.

God was taken aback. What? I haven’t named her yet.

“I don’t want her,” said Man, stubbornly. “I think I’m turning green. Look. Looking at her is making me turn green. She has all these red, squishy things inside.”

But this is how I made you. This is how I made Lilith. This is how--

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

God paused. I think I need a moment.

Meanwhile, the finished, nameless woman wandered about Eden and acquainted herself with her new surroundings. From time to time, Man drifted into her line of sight, only to turn green and dash away whenever he caught sight of her. She hid behind a tree and watched while Man chased a gazelle for an attempt at interactive study.

“He’s not really impressive,” she remarked.

So I’ve been told, said God.

“Is he the only option I have?”

Actually, said God, thoughtfully, no.

“Well, good,” said the woman with no name. “What will you do with him?”

I’m not sure, admitted God. I’m reluctant to give up on him.

The woman looked down at herself and observed, “You do good work.”

Thank you.

“Maybe he’s uncomfortable with divinity?”

Beg pardon?

“Divinity. Maybe it makes him uncomfortable. You made me out of Eden, which makes me partly divine. Maybe he’s uncomfortable with divinity?”

He seems fine with me.

“It’s just a thought,” the woman said.

God considered the woman. You know a great deal for someone who was just cre­ated.

“Do I?” wondered the woman. “Will you make him another mate?”

It seems like the only thing to do, God sighed. Again. This time maybe I’ll use part of his body instead of part of Eden.

“You might have more luck. Self-love, and all that.”

He’s been studying that, too. The groundhogs are starting to complain about the mess.

“Oh,” the woman said, and grimaced. After a moment, she explained, “That was an expression of sympathy for the groundhogs, just so you know. Not any sort of judgment on Man’s activities, per se.”

Yes.

“You haven’t given me a name yet.”

True, said God. I was going to say--

Man sprinted across their horizon, chasing a goat now instead of the gazelle. It was an uneven chase. The goat paused long enough to roll his eyes at the woman, then gamboled on with the Man hot in pursuit. The woman grimaced. So did God. “I’d like to explore those other options now,” the woman said.

I’ll get right on that, said God.

Posted by yhirata at November 3, 2004 4:00 PM