THE FIRST ONE
Just like anything else in life, in order to understand the bigger picture we've got to go back a little, to grasp the smaller parts that make the whole.
It was many, many years ago. Over thirty millennia, to be precise. That was when the first one lived.
Most people believe that Cain was the first, but that's not true at all. He was a famous one, yes. No questions about that. But the first? No, not even close to that.
The first's name was Elon.
Elon was the last child to be born in that fall. His mother was a stout woman with pitch black hair and amber eyes. Although that was her third child, she'd bled for the first time only a couple summers before.
Elon was born a frail little thing, much paler than everyone else's brown skin. He would feebly suck onto his mother's breast, always letting milk trickle down his cheek and be wasted.
Contrary to his mother's expectation, he survived, winter after winter, even after his older brother had failed to survive.
As soon as his (surviving) older brother grew his first facial hair, he was able to join the men on hunting the big beasts of the land. The boy Elon would sit by an advantage point near the encampment to see if he could get a glimpse of the men.
His mother and the other women made several tools and ornaments, using bones, shells, teeth and whatever else they could. Elon was amazed by how they were skilled, sometimes.
He tried making a collar using some flints he'd found. They were so few and so spaced out that his collar did not rattle like everyone else's. Elon kept that ugly, silent, black and grey thing around his neck, while everyone had a colourful, noise making one.
The men brought, once in a while, the big beasts they hunted. No more than one man was lost when hunting a mammoth. One fatidic afternoon, things went a different way. This particular time, only half of the men got back, and barely breathing.
They told they were taken by surprise by the "other people". Elon's brother fell in that fight.
The other people were shorter, stouter, stronger people. They had sunshine or fire in their hair, as it was said, snow covering their bodies and pools of water in the eyes.
Elon's people and the other people eventually fought for the same game, quarrelling now and then.
The tribe's pride was hurt but there was nothing they could do. Now they were outmanned and apparently outskilled.
After the big winter, they went once again after the big beasts. Elon couldn't grow a beard, but since he was now the eldest son and a very tall man, not very strong though, he managed to join the men on the hunt.
Elon was a terrible tool-maker, a terrible painting-maker, and now he'd found out he was a terrible hunter as well. Whenever he tried to throw a spear, it would dance awkwardly in the air and land either on its shaft or much wider than the target. He never got the chance to earn a sliver of respect among his own people. The men barely noticed him. Many times, after they had moved camp, he was left behind because Elon was simply unremarkable.
In a warm summer morning, right before the first stars were swallowed by the rising sun, Elon felt something stir inside him. The man-boy walked out of the camp. It wasn't hard, specially because he walked silently and nobody ever noticed him. Elon quickly found an advantage point. He felt he should go there for some reason, and so he did. Sitting on that tall boulder, he conjectured that if he left for good, no one would miss him. He wondered how long would it take his tribe to realize he'd gone, if ever...
Elon saw the sky go from black to purple, from purple to pink, from pink to cobalt. He was gazing at the horizon, when something drew his attention. It wasn't easy to spot, but he did see movement in the outer reaches of the forest, next to a bend of a far river. It was the other people!
Not sure why, he simply walked towards the other people's encampment.
When he got close, he realized that there were just a handful of women looking after their children.
The men must have gone hunting!
Instinctively, Elon brought his bone tipped spear and threw it against a woman standing near the riverbed. Somehow, the spear flew sure this time.
It was beautiful!
It cut the morning air, barely making any sound. It ran its straight path and caught the woman's throat. She never got the chance to scream.
Elon approached the body to retrieve the spear and dislodged it from the corpse. Her face was twisted in a frozen expression of surprise and terror.
That sight brought tears to his eyes. Tears of joy.
That was the first time he'd been successful at doing something. He wished his tribe was there to witness his moment of triumph.
Then another thought crossed his mind: is there anyone else I can try doing it again?
Well, he'd seen where the encampment was, and found his way to it.
When Elon got there, seven women and a dozen children were scattered around or next to the mammoth bone huts.
Many hours later, when the men arrived from hunting, they only found what Elon left for them to see. The pile of ashes and half burnt bones was still warm.
Elon kept a lookout for a couple of days, never too far from the other people men. He'd walk through the shadows, as silent as silent is, much more comfortable in the darkness than in broad daylight.
It took him four more days to ambush and kill the other people men, one by one. He'd spear them by distance most of the time. Twice he emerged from the shadows to cut an unaware enemy's throat with a wicked flint knife.
Elon caught the last one of them drowning in madness and confusion. The man was as big as a wild boar, hairy as a mammoth and startled like a hart. He had braided sunshine hair and earthen brown shaggy beard.
He never heard Elon's footsteps, nor Elon's ugly flint collar. The other people giant only kept babbling something on and on, smoothly rocking back and forth, facing the remnants of his encampment.
Suddenly the tip of a spear was produced from within his chest. The man choked on his own blood and finally stopped talking.
Before passing away, he managed to steal a glance at his assassin. He found a smiling boy-man, happier than his own child ever was, gripping the shaft of the spear and twisting it sideways to loosen it from his ribs.
Elon eventually got back to his tribe. He was never a great gatherer, never really looking forward to going hunting, except when they migrated and got to a new region for the very first time. Elon would scout the lands for days, sometimes weeks, and always come back with the widest grin of the world. He had many children, and his children had many children more.
Phew, time really does fly when we're entertained!
Well, as I said before, this is just one tile of a larger stained glass work piece. But, knowing the first's story is a great way of getting started.
Bear with me and I promise I'll teach you so much more...
A LITTLE GIRL AND A PENGUIN DOLL WITH A TOP HAT
As soon as the brunette opened the letter, she felt like 100,000 volts trotted through and over her, jolting every muscle fiber she got. She locked her jaw and the brightest flash she's ever seen blinded her until darkness took her over and brought her into the void.
Zatanna was in a golden meadow. What at first seemed tall dried grass revealed to be wheat. A massive wheat field that went as long as her eye could reach and beyond. Smooth hills, at the fringe of her field of view, formed a harmonic undulation where the sky met the ground.
The magician turned around and saw a small, wheat-less patch; a clearing in the honey coloured field.
She walked through the plants, feeling the bristles skimming the back of her naked hand. Although it was sunny, the cold breeze kept her wearing the leather jacket.
Zatanna opened the last curtain of wheat and was met by a little girl serving tea to a penguin plush doll.
― Hey, Zee! It's about time. Come, sit! The tea is still hot. ― The little girl announced, smiling a beautiful toddler smile. She pointed out Zatanna's seat, between herself and the penguin. The woman hesitated, but didn't argue.
― Do we know each other? ― Zee asked.
― Well, yes and no.
― Okay... So, what's your name.
― Excellent question, Zee. But before that, I must ask you a question... Would you like some tea?
― Hmm, sure.
Zatanna got a hold of her teacup and extended in the little girl's direction. The child poured an imaginary tea from a plastic yellow teapot. The brunette placed the teacup in front of her, on the table, which left the little girl with a puzzled look.
― Oh, right! ― Then she brought the cup to her lips, tasting the fake infusion. ― It tastes really good.
― You're funny, Zee. ― The little girl stated, putting the pot away and bringing a orange-ish letter from under the little table.
― Wait. Where did you get that?
― Well, I sent you this letter.
Zatanna was only confused up to this point. Now she was confused and scared.
― You sent it? It was you who killed me?
― What are you talking about? I didn't kill you. This is not heaven, or the afterlife, or whatever. This is your head, Zee. I'm you!
The magician moved her lips frantically. A million thoughts crossed her mind at the same time, as if every single synapses she made were telling her something new and different and important, something she should heed.
― Look, this is not exactly what you'd expect from a great magicians mind. I get it. But, as you already know, magic doesn't follow strict rules. Just like the human brain.
The little girl seemed wise beyond her years. Well, if what she said was true, then she was no little girl at all, which explained her aplomb. She was the owner of this place. It was her home.
― So why am I here, then? I remember feeling as if I'd bitten a thick copper wire.
― Ah, I know. I felt it too, ― little Zee acceded. ― It wasn't my brightest idea, but it did work, so I'll consider it a success nevertheless.
The toddler adjusted herself on the small plastic chair, crossed her arms and took a businesslike instance.
― He, ― the girl pointed to the penguin plush doll, ― is in a big trouble. He sent an ethereal message asking for rescue. He's trapped in some extra-planar dimension and the only thing he could do is getting this message through an opening he found, or created. I'm not quite sure.
Zatanna looked at the penguin. It was a penguin plush doll, his arms sewn onto his body. It had a red bow-tie and a little navy-blue top hat.
― You mean the penguin? How come?
― He, the penguin, is actually just the form he's taken into your subconscious. He's the representation of Constantine here.
― What the f... ― Zatanna hesitated, suddenly self-conscious about her language in front of the little girl.
― Fuck. ― She said nonchalantly. ― I've said worse myself. Relax. I'm you, remember? ― She winked.
― As I was saying, he, or the actual person whose subjective personality has taken the shape of a penguin plush doll, sent a trans-planar message. His message could only find me, which is the form your Unbewusste, your unconscious perception of yourself, has taken.
― So you are me, psychologically speaking.
― Or rather you are me, since you cannot affect me directly but I can do the other way around. Well, kind of. There are other "Zees" as well, but I've been in charge mostly. Except for last night.
Zatanna looked utterly lost and confused. The unbewusste projection got up from the chair and walked beside her troubled self. The child hugged her, slowly caressing her arm. Her tiny hands felt so warm, so sure, she was definitely something more than just a child.
― I know you're confused. Take it easy, Zee. I promise things will get better. You're confused because there's something wrong in your soul, and that something is related to the message Constantine sent us. He's in real trouble. Although you can't tell, I can. We do care about him and you're just not aware of it yet. We're really concerned about what might happen to him.
It was as if the magician never knew about something and, out of the blue, an axiom was brought before her. It was just too obvious that she'd been avoiding something, fighting a restlessness until now she couldn't tell what or why.
Suddenly, the void ceased to be just a void and became an uncomfortable, but familiar emptiness. It wasn't a craving for a faceless desire, but rather a far-flung place (or person) she longed. It wasn't a romantic necessity, but a deep human emotion: it was a distress call she had to respond to.
― Now you understand. ― The child brightened up, her eyes barely open against her chubby cheeks.
― I do. He's a friend, after all. I known him for so long. We've been together through really bad times. He's saved me many times. I can't just ignore him... ― Zatanna spoke mostly to herself.
― That's my girl!
― But how can I help him? How can I find where he is?
The little girl shook her head in approval.
― Again, an excellent question. Well, his message didn't exactly say it. All I could read is that he was trapped in a different dimension and that you're possibly the only person who can actually help him.
― So I should start looking for clues in his apartment, I suppose.
― Fair enough.
― Anything else I should know?
― Ah, yes, in fact there is. He said "you must thoroughly understand".
― "You must thoroughly understand"? What's that supposed to mean?
― Dunno. ― Little Zee replied, shrugging her tiny shoulders.
― Shit... It couldn't be too easy, could it?
The child simply smiled and said: ― I'm sorry I cannot help any more. And I apologize for the shock. It was the only way I could think of to get you straight here.
― What do you mean?
― Well, a mere dream would be too abstract to hold a proper conversation. And if you didn't come straight here, you'd probably run into your superego or your id. And let me tell you, you do NOT want to meet your id, especially after her last night's performance. Your affair really messed her up.
― My affair? You mean the man I slept with? I can't remember last night nor who he is.
― Nevermind about him. Just don't let him near you again.
― I'll try, I guess...
― Now it's time to go, Zee. I wish you... I wish us the best of luck!
The cold breeze stopped completely. The sky started to crack and crumble, revealing an exterior or sheer light, like watching an egg hatch from the inside. A warm feeling of sunshine flooded her heart and she felt herself hovering over the wheat field.
― Whatever it was, don't forget Zee: "you must thoroughly understand". I have a feeling that understanding is the key to finding him.
Zatanna never had the time to acknowledge her unconscious self's last advice. She woke up lying on the floor. The kitchen curtains were wide open and the sun shone full in her face. The light hurt her eyes a little, but it was fine.
The worst part is that the ice cream melted. There goes six dollars.