Influence's Ladder

Learn about the origin of reality itself, and how we came to be.
This page is a work in progress.

Rung I: The Emergence of the Original Influence

At the emergence of reality, there was only one being. It was fully grown, but undeniably fetal in most ways. It could not yet create much of anything physical- not on purpose, at least. Within the empty plane, everything had a silver sheen to it, with a tint of blue splashed every few lightyears. The man could see it all. In a fit of loneliness, it tossed a metaphysical building block into the distance, and the block dissolved into mist as it flew. This small act of destruction pleased the man; it garnered confidence, and became herculean. It pried open an aperture with its own hands and gave the mist heat. The man- who had now decided it was fit enough to call itself an influence- fell into the embrace. Puffs of mist floated into it and filled its core. The influence would remember this feeling. The influence fell asleep for many, many years.

When it awoke, the mist outside of him was quite warm- the clouds that had drifted inside of him, however, had gone stale. The sensation was dulled. It wouldn’t have called the mist cold; it would have called it simply “present”. The influence was once again alone, but this time, it did not act out. It carefully opened a second hole next to the one that brought warmth into reality. It would call these two breaches the sky- a name for a feeling that it distinctly remembered feeling in its billion year long dream. Lips pressed caringly against the new perforation, it blew a thick cloud. The hole, to the surprise of the influence, was not cold. It was not as warm as the first, but it was still warm- gently so. It was comforted, and it fell asleep again for many, many years.

The influence awoke yet again, and it had experienced a new feeling. It was similar to the sky, but not quite. It was indeed warm, but less stagnant. The feeling shifted and morphed in its head like the mist it had revealed. It was exciting. It flowed throughout the influence’s mind, reflecting the shine of the reality around it, and letting it become something different, gorgeous! Effortlessly iridescent, it was almost like the influence’s own form. The sky, the feeling, itself: all of it brought the influence such comfort and joy.

The new feeling- the influence would call this "Human".

A flurry of passion overtook the influence as it weaved a form out of the sky. The influence had never seen itself. Despite what the silver shine of reality's sinew would have one believe, it was not a reflective surface. Its motions were messy, and the process was unlike the revelation of the mist itself, in that it was purposeful. It began with a lone puff of sky, and from there, it stretched out a few wisps haphazardly. It pressed divots into the farthest-most regions of the humans.

Its children were very much like the sky. Comfort drifted out of them in thick clouds, and the influence felt it all. They each had their own differences that further created joy. One would weave together strands of the silver earth and make humans of their own. Another would let wind drift through its holes and revel in the sound it made. The humans would even act as if they were the same being sometimes! One would sway its limb, and another would copy the action: it conjured a new feeling within the influence. Endearment was what it was most like, but leaned more intense, yet gentle. This feeling, the influence decided, was "Planet".


And as the last of the influence’s children came to rest within the blanket of rolling fog, the original influence could feel the warmth emanating far beyond its spawns' perception. Satisfied, and truly exhausted, the influence fell asleep for the final time. The sky glazed over with a thin film of clouds.

Rung II: The Dilation of the Sky

At the dawn of reality, a single being existed. She awoke underneath a silver plane. Among the constant happiness she felt, it was easy to remember her one small discomfort: she had never quite liked how there were two bodies in the sky at the same time. It made her feel a bit too warm at times. When she wished to rest, the two bodies made it hard to. Sometimes-and she would deny herself this feeling often- the sky brought her discomfort. To easier describe these feelings to herself, she gave them the names of "Sun" and "Moon". Sun was the comfort that flowed through her very core. Moon was the guilt-drenched discomfort.

The moon was at its fullest while the sky was at its emptiest. Nothing but silver surrounded her. The absence of the sky filled her with a distinctly new feeling. This feeling was not warmth, nor was it joy, passion, or comfort. At the dawn of her new reality, she felt terror. Quickly, she tore a great hole into the expanse above her. In her frenzy, she tore a second hole, too. Neither were quite as warm as she remembered, but the familiarity soothed her. However, she could not ignore the odd uncanniness of what she had done for very long. It was a strange mimicry of what she remembered. These were not the sources of warmth she played under with her other selves. The terror from earlier crept inside her yet again. It trembled within her core with such a force that mist was forced from her cavities. She clawed at the fleeting clouds. In the wake of her grabbing extremities were small tears across the sky. She would later call these marks “stars”, and herself “force”.

She could not stand to associate the stars with the sun. The sun was gentle. The stars were created by something horrifying she could not even consider primal. The stars could only appear with the moon. It was only right.

Within the span of just a few hours, the sky was morphed into something beyond recognition. Sometimes, heat and light would cover the planet. These times, she referred to as “sun hours”. Other times, the planet would be dark, illuminated only by stars, and of a strange temperature- cold. These would be referred to as “moon hours”. Refusing to think on things any longer, she allowed herself a few years of rest underneath the stars.
Upon waking up, the force continued to exist for many, many years. After a few millenium, she noticed she had not seen one of her selves in a very long time. Despair overtook her. It stung beneath her core and covered her upper half in a thin, impenetrable layer of frost. The stars lights became overwhelming. Every speck seemed to press against the force’s skin with an immense weight- a weight so unbearable, so heavy, that it would break skin on impact, had it just been slightly sharper. For millions of years, this feeling roared within her. There was no reprieve from the pressure against every inch of her body. She feared that if she made one wrong move, the stars would collapse in on her instantaneously and nothing but celestial viscera would remain on the endless silver plane.

In an act of desperation to calm this feeling- “human”- the force took a fistful of planetary mist and began to work. She pieced together what she remembered looking like. Of course, the force remembered her core of light, and began there. She let sun shine into a hole she had pressed in the human's midsection. Once filled, she quickly pinched it closed. She had many sprawling branches that she would use to weave earth into something new- perhaps, she thought, humans should have less of those. And on the topic, she thought back to the sky. If she could communicate to whoever made her, to her other shards, of the unbearable heat- would they have helped suffocate the moon?

The force carved a small slit somewhere above the human’s core, and breathed into it. From her own breath, small twine-like threads wove themselves inside of the human. As a test, she prodded her creature. In response, it grunted.

And so the force continued. She crafted waves of humans. They lived on the planet she had made for them, and they lived about as well as she did. They did not look like her, but she could see herself in them. They sprawled out for generations upon generations. Their lives were bountiful, and filled with warmth. And yet, the force’s burden did not entirely fade. The odd vocal tics tended to be too loud for her senses. They would bubble and rise above the humans and amplify within the mist. Her creations would scream during moon hours: the force could not make them stop.