I’m Turning into a God: The Divine Power of Words
“In the beginning was the Word…” — ever thought about how meta that sentence is, especially when you’re a writer about to give birth to a new universe? Yeah, that’s right. Every time you sit down to jot out a science fiction story, you’re not just crafting characters; you’re practically playing god. But unlike the gods of old, your commandments and miracles are written in words, not etched in stone or displayed in heavenly wonders.
The Big Bang of Your Universe
Think about the first line you write. It’s like your own literary Big Bang, an explosion of ideas that forms planets, stars, galaxies, and yes, life forms with existential questions. And as any godly creator would, you get to lay down the physics — or break them, if you’re feeling like a maverick. Gravitational waves, time loops, alternate dimensions? All just a few keystrokes away.
But the real beauty comes in when you populate this realm. No, not with mindless drones, but with beings that look up — figuratively or literally — at their sky and ponder questions that even their creator — yeah, that’s you — is afraid to ask. Questions like, “What lies beyond the edge of the universe?” or “What is the nature of this cosmic silence?”
Facts, Fiction, and the Space Between
Remember, every “fact” we cling to today — gravity, relativity, heck, even the Earth revolving around the Sun — was once fiction, heresy, or pure madness. So when you’re scripting a reality that bends the known laws of physics, you’re not being blasphemous; you’re being visionary. What’s to say your imagined universe isn’t a prophetic glimpse into truths we’re yet to uncover? As Arthur C. Clarke wisely stated, ”Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
The Paradoxical Puppet Masters
But let’s get real — you’re also the master of paradoxes. You craft characters who exist in realms where the impossible becomes the everyday. Your characters are the ones that take these grand cosmic paradoxes — like the silence of an ever-expanding universe — and turn them into relatable, personal dilemmas. And let’s be honest: it’s fun to watch them squirm a little as they confront questions that have no easy answers, isn’t it?
The Ultimate Stage for Your Divine Play
Here’s the cherry on the celestial cake: You can set this divine play on stages that defy human imagination. A city within a black hole. A society governed by collective dreaming. A dimension where time flows in emotional rather than chronological units. The sky isn’t even the limit when you’re the one crafting the sky.
This is what I’ve been writing a sci-fi serial called AI Genesis. Check it out, I want your feedback — I promise it’s more thrilling than this article on Medium.
In Conclusion
The next time you flex your fingers over that keyboard to conjure a new world, never forget: You’re more than a writer. You’re a divine architect, a god, transforming cosmic enigmas into epic playgrounds for the imagination. I can’t wait to read what you come up with.
