Diversion

“How do I convince you?” Elwyn poured more wine and slid the glass across the table, groaning as he shuffled toward the fireplace.

“I doubt you can, but you seem to try every time we talk,” Alaina answered, taking a sip and closing her eyes. Despite everything, this is still the calmest place in the universe. “Why do you try so hard to change my mind?”

“Everyone needs a diversion, something to occupy the mind – especially us. Oh, this fire!” he was poking at the logs, trying to coax the flames back to life. “You would think I could get it right after all these eons. Why is fire always so fickle?”

She finished her wine and held out her hand. Elwyn gave her the poker and moved back to his old, comfortable chair. He dropped down with a heavy sigh. Alaina leaned in toward the hearth, gently prodding. “The fire, Elwyn, is not about the logs. The spaces between are the key,” she moved a log to one side. “The spaces are looking for somewhere to live and breathe.”

“If that’s so,” Elwyn sat up, “then why are you moving logs?”

She shook her head, “I am not moving logs. I am creating the spaces. The logs are just in the way.” She pulled on the end of another, and the flames reached up. The room was full of yellow, almost living, light. “There, that’s better.” Alaina pointed to a glass bottle on the table and frowned, “Is this new?”

Elwyn nodded, “That one has been interesting.” He held the bottle to the light. She could see the sorrow swirling inside. She wondered how many died this time. He pointed to a spot near the bottom, “Something quite different happened right there.” Alaina could see the spot was dark red, not black like she thought at first. It looks almost like the wine. “Everything followed a fairly normal path. The death toll was what I expected, they reacted as usual, and nothing was out of the ordinary. After three years, it had run its course and they adjusted.” Elwyn placed the bottle on the table and leaned back into his chair. “But then,” he pointed to the spot, “this happened. A most unusual occurrence. I have never seen them react in this way. It’s going to require more study, more trials.” More death, more pain, more suffering.

Alaina moved to the shelves lining one wall. There were hundreds of glass bottles filled with various liquids. As she looked closer, she could see the pain and suffering they held. “Elwyn, do you ever wonder what would happen if you didn’t do this?” She held up a bottle containing a green liquid, almost like smoke, and peered inside. This one was a plague. “Is there nothing better to do with your time?”

“Our time, Alaina. It’s all our time,” he smiled. “And I have thought of it once in a while, yes. My first answer is that I would be very bored.”

“That’s a selfish answer, Elwyn. You initiate all this pain and death so you won’t be bored?” She put the bottle back and turned to face him, “Just because you need a diversion to occupy your mind?”

“Selfish?” he pointed to the bottles on the opposite wall. “What do you call those? Thousands of worlds across the universe and an untold number of beings living in them, all because of us!” He stood with a great deal of effort and returned to the fireplace. He pushed at a log, and it rolled to the back. Three more fell, almost suffocating the blaze. “Oh, this fire!”

Alaina came to help, pulling and adjusting the logs until the flames reappeared. “I think you are so used to killing things, that you forget how to keep them alive anymore.” She poured some wine for Elwyn and sat opposite him. “We have created so much. Why do you want to destroy it all?”

“Test, not destroy.” He walked to the shelf, “All of these worlds are basically the same. We create the situation needed for life, add a few wrinkles, and then sit back. Everything develops on its own. The timeline plays out and we just watch. Our work is tedious.” He pulled a yellow bottle from the collection. “Take this one, for example. We wondered what could develop on a sulfurous world. That’s toxic to almost everything else we have ever created.” He put the bottle on the table and walked to the other wall, “And I have to say, you put your mind to it and found a way to make it work. Now, the planet has almost five billion beings living in that environment.” Elwyn surveyed the bottles and decided on a pale red one. He came back to the table and held the bottle out to Alaina.

“Religious war,” she said.

Elwyn nodded. “Until now, that world has lived in relative peace for,” he held the bottle close to his face, “almost five hundred million years.” He pulled the corks from the bottles and poured some red liquid into the yellow one. He closed the bottles and placed the red one carefully back in its place. “What do you see?”

Alaina looked through the glass, “Wars are starting. I see the planet dividing into factions. The death toll is ticking up now.” She shook her head. “What’s the point, Elwyn?”

“Entertainment,” he sat down again, “research, knowledge, or whatever label you need to place on it.” He pointed back to the bottle. “How’s it progressing?”

She looked again, “After religious crusades, two major religions have emerged. The wars are over. Half of the population is dead.” A tear rolled down her face.

“Why cry?” Elwyn took the bottle and wrote something on the back. “You don’t know any of the beings there. The planet was overpopulated and in despair – stagnant – after so many years.” He placed the bottle back on the shelf, “Now the remaining population has room to live. Most have aligned with a group and have a purpose. In the end, a century of pain in the life of a planet half a billion years old is reasonable, don’t you think?”

Alaina sipped her wine, “No, I don’t. I suppose that’s why I don’t approve of your little hobby. Who are we to play with the fortunes of planets and billions of lives?”

Elwyn poked at the fire, toppling the logs and extinguishing the flames, “If not us, then who my dear?”