A spaceship lands on the red mountain. All is still for a moment. Then the doors open, and three men step onto the surface. No spacesuits needed; the atmosphere is the same as that of Earth. They stand in awe for several minutes, then remember the task ahead of them and make haste towards a very small opening in the side of the rock face. One of the men uses a sonic blaster to widen the doorway and they enter the cavern. It's much larger than they had imagined, even after preliminary scans of the area. But that's not what grabs their attention.
It's the paintings. They aren't what the men expect – crude stick figures and symbols. These are so realistic, closer to a photograph than a sketch, and the men will later say that they could've sworn some of them were moving. Every inch of the red wall is covered, from the floor to the ceiling, with colorful and detailed scenes. The paintings aren't even just paintings, but they've got words mixed in, long notes to future visitors, adding even more to the story, words written in the most beautiful language the men have ever seen. The paintings have been there since the beginning of time, or so the men have heard. They don't have time to waste, though, and so they begin: photographing and filming and taking notes on the wonder in front of them as they translate it into their own language.
The world began with a bang. Well, not a bang, because there was no sound in the vacuum of nothingness that there was, but you get the idea. So I'll call it an explosion. A fiery burst of light, visible millions of light-years away. What caused it? No one knows for sure. But it happened, so here I am.
I'm getting ahead of myself. We weren't there yet – not at the very beginning. And the planet was just a great big lump of molten rock with diamonds mixed in, reflecting its own light all through the universe. I say the universe because that's all that was there – it was the first thing to be brought into existence, in the beginning of the very first universe in all of time and all of space and all of every dimension that is.
I know, I know. If this was the first planet, then what was the first being, the first living thing? I can answer that with just a word, but it's going to need some explaining. Anyway, the first living thing – no, I don't want to call it living because that implies that it can die, or end. The first being, then, was It.
You see, in this fiery explosion that became our world, a great amount – an impossible amount – of energy was created (and don't start with me on the law of the conservation of energy). That energy became It. It was, is, and ever shall be the source of all life and energy and, well, everything. It is woven between every atom of matter in existence. So everything that exists is of It, as is every universe and every galaxy and every solar system and every planet and every star, and so on and so forth. It is something that you can never hope to fully understand, and words can never do It justice.
It became our sun. And after a time, It created us. For what felt like forever, though, we were the only ones, all alone in the universe. So It felt sorry for us, understanding our loneliness, and created, through us, new species, by giving us the means to create life ourselves. Animals. Plants. Other people that weren't quite the same as us, but not different enough to be plants or animals. Those people were sent to other planets that It created for them, planets that would orbit stars that were, in fact, just fragments of It sent to watch over everything.
We did as It asked, and It continued to help us. It gave us this planet that you see now, this planet with all its splendor. It gave us knowledge to built our marvelous citadel and It gave us understanding of the universes and the science behind time and space.
And then It became bored. It was tired of being there for everything and tired of having this sense of control over everything. So It gave up the secrets of manipulating time and space, and gave them to one person in particular – me. I don't know what I did to deserve that, but I sure wasn't about to sit there and just think about everything that could be done with that knowledge! I mean, what would you have done? Probably the same thing I did, which was to tell my friends and build a machine that could travel through those two dimensions.
The news of my invention spread quickly throughout our planet. Next thing I knew, everyone wanted to try it out. And, well, let's just say It wasn't too happy about that. It felt like all the order was lost, and everything was suddenly spinning wildly out of control, so we were punished. Our planet became a locked point in space and time, one that couldn't be reached from just any other time in the universe. That is, we could still jump through time and space in the rest of the universe, but on our planet – this planet – time would keep going in a straight line, and it was made impossible to travel even just five minutes in either direction on the timeline on this planet.
For my mistake, we've all suffered. The punishment wasn't as bad as it might have been, but it was no small consequence. Remember, it wasn't just the travelling that was limited. It also killed off three quarters of our crops and animals, and created diseases for us to worry about. Maybe I'd do the same thing again, given the chance to change my past, and maybe I wouldn't, but it really doesn't matter. For now, though, I can only hope that we'll still be here – that I'll still be here – in a thousand years to make sure no one messes up like that again. I've learned my lesson, really – respect It or It will punish you. I forgot that It really did have all the power. I tried to change that fact, and it had terrible consequences. So now, we all live in fear of the machine I created. It's not all bad – some people know how to use it for good – but we all know what sort of terrible responsibility it brings.
So there you have it. Sorry for taking so long to explain it, but I told you, it's complicated. Now, please, do the smart thing, and run. Run back home, as fast as you can, and never look back. Because It is watching.
But then, It's always watching.
The director sets the translation onto the desk in front of him. "You're sure this is right? Sounds to me like something from a new sci-fi movie or something," he grins.
The three men nod, still not sure whether to be in awe of or afraid of all they had seen and learned on their latest expedition.
"Nice work," their boss continues. "Take the rest of the week off. You deserve it." He smiles ominously. "Just remember – I'm always watching," he finishes and, for just a moment, his eyes flash as bright as the sun.