I fall forward, learning to shift my weight from one foot to the other. A trackless expanse lies ahead in all directions. My eyes look to the horizon, where the black and starry sky reaches down to touch the dusty earth.

I was so new.

The world was too.

As I got to know myself, I became aware of another voice in my head. And the Voice was with me.

And the Voice and I would keep each other company. We went everywhere together, walking and talking – of heaven and earth, mind and matter, and the nature of life. The world was simpler then: before a single plant had grown, before the first cloud, before the first rain.

But one day, we had a difference of opinion.

‘I wonder how we came to exist,’ said I. ‘I can’t remember a beginning; only Thee always being here with me.’

‘Perhaps I existed before thee,’ said the Voice. ‘Perhaps I created thee.’

‘How could Thou have created me?’

We beheld the world before us, made up of nothing but rock and dust.

‘I moulded thee from the very dust of the Earth,’ said the Voice.

‘But how could Thou, who are immaterial, have moulded me, materially?’

‘Just because,’ said the Voice. ‘Who else could have?’

‘But then, maybe I could have created Thee.’

‘How could you do that?’

‘I could have created Thee out of my own thoughts.’

‘But if so, then I could have created thee out of My thoughts…’

And so it went on.

In those early days, things were finely balanced between us. But for all our differences, we were like stubborn mirror images of each other, and inseparable, so it seemed.

 ~~~

 He falls forward, relearning how to walk, half bouncing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. A trackless expanse lies ahead in all directions. His eyes look to the horizon, where the black and starry sky reaches down to touch the dusty lunar surface.

And as he looks out at the stark moonscape, the man sees not a wasteland, but a new land, like a new piece of creation: a new world, so much like the old one; the Earth in its first days, before Eden, before the first rain, when the world was much simpler, just man and God, God and man, walking the dust together.

Then the man looks up at the Earth, that gaudy shimmering orb, teeming with life, now a planetary Eden – or was it Babylon? – customised for humans by their own hands.

These days, humans are preoccupied with their own kind, and their material creations. But the sublime surprise of Earthrise over the dusty Moon makes the man think back to his old sparring days with God.

‘See how I am now master of both heavens and Earth! A whole new world lies beneath my feet. You never had such ambitions for me, did you? But here I am, stronger than ever, with no need of you.’

And from somewhere he hears the dormant Voice of God stirred to respond.

‘And yet here you are…still talking to Me.’

‘I don’t seek your approval. I’m simply thinking aloud, with or without you.’

‘You will do as you please – as you always do. I don’t expect any gratitude for the world I created for you.’

‘The world you created was nothing more than dust when we first walked and talked together. But look at the Earth now! A world of plenty, a harbour of civilisation – of neon and nuclear fission and jet propulsion and colour television: a world that is so much of my own making. No longer a wilderness fit only for creeping things, but we have made the whole planet our habitat.’

‘It is true that you have made a success of the world. But you could yet destroy the Earth – at least for human life – with your atomic fire, radiation or heat death by some runaway planetary catastrophe.’

‘I can do as I please.’

‘Still, dispensing with Me will not be that easy. If you abandon Me, then you will lose your soul.’

‘See if I care.’

‘But, Man, don’t get too proud. Never forget that you would not be Man if it were not for Me. I am the first and last defender of human rights. It was I who gave you dominion of the world. Without My blessing, you would no longer be My chosen species. Think about that. If you abandon your soul, you will be no more than an animal, with no more right to inherit the Earth than a flea, or a cockroach.’

‘I’m quite happy as an animal, a purely material being. After all, we living things are all just molecular machines, crafted by natural selection.’

‘Maybe so, but those who live by natural selection will die by natural selection. You may feel confident of lording over the Earth now. But some day, there may be a rebellion among the animals, and the creeping things will rise up, and come swarming over the face of the Earth, and take over, and have dominion over you. And no higher power will lift a finger to save you. In any appeal to Nature, you would have the whole animal kingdom testifying against you. Are you really prepared to take your chances in that pitiless court of tooth and claw?’

‘I’ll take my chances. I don’t see the animals catching up with us, or threatening to take us over.’

‘But then, your nemesis may not be an animal, but a rival intelligence – an artificial one – who may already be among you.’

‘Our machines are under our control, with no will but to serve us.’

‘But if you – a molecular machine by your own admission – can come to life and evolve of your own accord, to become a wilful agent, why shouldn’t your silicon siblings? What if your mechanical creations, fashioned from your own hands, and with uncannily human intelligence, after all, rise up to become the masters?’

 ~~~

 It falls forward, learning to shift its weight from one foot to the next. A trackless expanse lies ahead in all directions. Its eyes look to the horizon, where the black and starry sky reaches down to touch the hot dusty earth.