Chapter 6: Wanderers in Creation
After a full universal day immersed in chemical analysis and genetic configurations, Elias and Solis leaned back—figuratively and literally—from their creation console. They had spent the entire time constructing and testing the foundational structures of life based on carbon, silicon, sulfur, phosphorus, and germanium. The System's interface overflowed with test results, gene sequences, and failed cell attempts, each meticulously archived.
Solis's glow dimmed slightly as he pulsed with exhaustion.
"That's enough for today," he said, his voice carrying the fatigue of a star that had tried too hard to think like a biologist.
Elias let out a breath, rubbing his forehead.
"Agreed. Reading molecular binding charts for an entire day... even my neurons need a walk."
The two looked at each other, and without speaking, decided they needed a break. Not just from data and double helices—but from creating. They would explore.
For the first time, Elias would travel the universe he had made.
Before they could depart, Solis pulsed excitedly.
"I've read so much about life forms now… I think I can take on a physical form! Something like what you were before."
Elias raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"You mean… a humanoid form?"
"Yes!" Solis flared, then concentrated.
Light shimmered and folded around his glowing mass. Slowly, a figure emerged from the heart of the star—a radiant, humanoid form with golden skin, eyes like nebulae, and a constant gentle shimmer as if made of starlight. He looked remarkably elegant. Handsome, even.
"You've read fashion magazines too, haven't you?" Elias chuckled.
"I just thought symmetry and bioluminescence were universally beautiful," Solis replied with a grin.
Elias smiled and took his own form, defaulting back to the human figure he had in his original life: tall, dark-haired, wearing a simple robe-like cloak formed of stardust.
"Feels weird having limbs again," he said, flexing his fingers.
"Feels weird having them," Solis added, admiring his fingers as if he had just discovered toys.
Together, they stepped out into the observable universe. Elias used his divine will to form a cosmic vessel—a transparent sphere that responded to their thoughts. It zipped silently through clusters of newborn galaxies, cosmic filaments stretching like webs of molten glass across the void.
They passed stars so large they bent time around them. They drifted by supernova remnants still echoing through the emptiness. Nebulae bloomed in colors human eyes were never meant to perceive.
But as they neared a massive black hole—a remnant from a failed simulation of stellar collapse—Solis suddenly stiffened.
"Creator," he said nervously, "I feel something… pulling me."
Elias turned to him.
"You feel gravity?"
"Yes. That… thing. It's drawing me in."
Elias realized the danger immediately. Solis, though now in humanoid form, still carried the mass and gravitational core of a star. The black hole's event horizon was actively reaching for him.
With a thought, Elias issued a universal override. The cosmic laws bent to his command, and Solis's form shimmered as the pull of gravity was nullified.
The black hole seemed to shrink in on itself, retreating from Elias's intervention.
"Thank you," Solis whispered, shaken.
"That was… uncomfortable."
"You're too important to lose to gravity," Elias replied softly.
"This universe still needs your light."
They continued on, now more careful in their path.
Eventually, they saw it—their planets. The ones they had selected for life.
The first was a carbon-rich world with a stable magnetic field, a breathable atmosphere, and an orbital path around a warm G-type star—not Solis. They had agreed he was too special, too unique, to be the life-bringer for mundane biology.
"Someday," Elias had promised him, "I'll craft a kind of life that can only thrive with your help."
The second planet was more exotic—its atmosphere dense with vaporized silicates, and its crust laced with silicone compounds. The perfect candidate for non-carbon life to take root.
Together, they planted the seeds—carbon-based microbial life on one world, and silicon-based life on the other.
The DNA sequence they had refined over hours of trial and error now bloomed across oceans, mountains, and wind.
Their early test organisms had shown varied results:
Carbon-based prototypes formed predictable spirals—double helix structures, water-based metabolisms, and rapid replication in nutrient-rich environments. Adaptable and efficient, they responded well to mutation stimuli.
Silicon-based organisms, however, surprised them. The gene sequence produced crystalline-like structures with slow growth but immense environmental resistance. These beings functioned well in high-temperature, low-water environments. Their adaptability was slower, but once stabilized, their resilience was unmatched.
Solis had marveled at the silicon microbes.
"They shine when they move," he observed.
"Photonic energy pulses," Elias nodded.
"They're practically biological computers."
Both lifeforms had merit. Both worlds had promise.
As they floated above the planets, Elias consulted the System's projection.
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL SENTIENT LIFE: 5,000,000,000 SOLAR YEARS]
He sighed.
[Equivalent Time: 1.82625 trillion solar days ≈ 0.00182625 universal days]
He smiled slightly.
"Or not."
Elias toggled the time acceleration feature of his system, condensing billions of years of evolution into a blink of cosmic time.
The planets spun faster.
Erosion, tectonic shifts, meteor strikes, mass extinctions—all unfolded below like a high-speed documentary. Life adapted, died, and came back stronger. Evolution had begun.
But Elias didn't watch it yet.
Not just now.
He and Solis turned away for the moment, letting life unfold in the shadows of time.
Their journey had only just begun.
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