I am the Creator. Keeper. Watcher. I am called many things, but I have no true name of my own.
I am the creature – the entity? the being? – that sees all and knows all because I have created all. Too long. Too long ago to remember clearly. The moment of creation, when all simply was. Like waking up. Yes, awakening. From a dreamless sleep. Or have we all fallen into a most wonderful, painful dream? Don't know. Too much. My perception is weakening. On reality. My thoughts are unclear. There is no room for them. I know all. To know all is a curse.
Past. Present. Future. All blend. They all blend together in my massive vault of information until I cannot tell them apart. A dying sun detonates somewhere in a far corner of the universe, creating a massive supernova. A dying son passes away somewhere in a far corner of the human world, creating mass sorrow. When? When did these happen? Was it long ago or has it yet to come? Is it happening even now as I wonder? Does it matter?
Everything. Everything flows in. Every death, every birth, every breeze, every challenge, every defeat. I know everything. Knower. Keeper. I know everything but why. Why am I Arceus? Why is nobody else? Why am I alone? No time. No time for these thoughts. They are crowded, forced out by all that I know and all that is happening to the universe. Because somewhere, a dust storm rages on a red planet. The DNA of a creature somewhere mutates, creating a new creature. A flower blooms. And I must bear witness. There is no time for the Creator. The Universe demands attention, forever past and forever more.
I can remember a time. Long ago. Before the universe was created. Before time. Space. Life. Somebody created me. Somebody cursed me to control and govern the universe. Why? Who? Was it someone I trusted? Was it a stranger? Is this a punishment, or a cruel injustice? Did that even happen to me, the Creator, or did it happen to the massive entity within me, the Universe? Could I tell the difference?
Does the Creator exist anymore, or has he succumbed to simply being one with the land he was supposed to govern? I cannot. I cannot accept that. I am still alive. I am thinking. Pondering. Questioning. I exist as the Creator as well as the Universe.
For how long?
The humans – far away? nearby? somewhere in between? – seek power through both technology and Pokemon. Men try to become gods, of towns, regions, worlds. Their ultimate ambition is to rule the universe as I have done for so long. Each individual one wants nothing more than to be in the greatest position of power. To be the Keeper, the Watcher, the Creator, the omniscient and omnipotent controller and watcher of all that is. Do not know. They do not know. They do not know that to be Arceus is to suffer. To rule the universe is to become the Universe. To become the Universe is to lose yourself forever with no hope of respite, because you know that the death of you would be the death of all that exists. To lose yourself forever is to die, be destroyed. Your being, consciousness, your sanity. Destroyed. Destroyed for other's benefit, somewhere, sometime, somehow, everywhere, all the time, for every reason.
I am the Creator. Keeper. Watcher. I am, above all, everything that ever was and ever will be. The Universe.
When one is everything, are they anything?
