'So, what makes you think it is going to flood around here?'
The truck driver chewed gum as he unloaded the bags of cement and several stacks of bricks.
'It's always best to be prepared,' I said, helping to manhandle one of the bags towards the area where my cement mixer stood waiting.
'You got planning permission to build this?' asked the driver, seemingly surprised that I could build this tall concrete construction on the suburban hillside, surrounded as it was with low lying bungalows, elegant lawns and neat gravel drives.
'Not really,' I said, taking out my cheque book...
"Even in a finite universe, a rock doesn't keep being a rock. Things are always disintegrating and becoming other things." Our Tragic Universe, Scarlett Thomas
There was once a rock, a very old rock, a rock which had laid low for a very long time. It couldn't remember how long that long time actually was but somehow knew without needing to remember that that long time was long enough. It was a rock that took great pride in its appearance, habitually watering its neat lawn of grass, combing its thick coat of moss, trimming it at least once a week....
Finally, the door swung open. The light was brilliant and painful after so much time i the dark; not so brilliant as His, of course, but the effect was much the same.
"DO YOU LIKE IT?" His voice boomed. "IT ONLY TOOK ME A WEEK. SIX DAYS, IN FACT."
They stared stupefied. Where there had once been nothing, there was a giant celestial body, a blazing fire fixed in the heavens. Closer, there was a spinning blue-white sphere orbited by a pockmarked satellite.
And upon that globe, tiny things moved about, hunting, gathering, eating, sleeping, fucking.
"What?!" They screamed incredulously....