Welcome to The Baby wants It’s Bottle Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith a NZ based creative. In this episode I read a short story. This is simply a creation tale. It is me musing of the logic behind why we are here, and why things often don’t go well. I will not give any spoilers on this, so “without further ado” lets begin.

“It Is Written, It is Rotten” Short Story by Martin Anton Smith 2021.

The Artist looked intently at one of his recent creations. He let out a long series of dispirited sighs, so much so his nearby candles flickered too and fro, and some would even blow out. He he realized his Artwork didn’t cut the mustard – it was to be binned, destroyed, eliminated. It was wise to start again, from scratch and make something that could shine with ebullient brilliance. He ruptured the outer shell, he threw water on it, he lit it on fire, he got rid of all the organic material, well almost all. On the Artwork there were some Bugs tucked into a few wrinkles on the surface. He had grown fond of some these Bugs, for not all of them had turned bad. He thought he might be able to repurpose them on the new and improved replacement Artwork he had already long been planning. And so he saved just a few of those good Bugs.

After many days of hard destructive work, He was half done when he wanted to rest. As he rested, he saw a Foe approach, and knowing he was a uniquely spiteful destructive force, he said to the Foe “You can break my Artwork”. The Foe couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t ask questions, he had been handed a goldmine. He got to work – he ripped the crust more far more violently that The Artist had, he threw acidic water on it, He put a blue blowtorch to it instead of amber flame, he also threw rocks at it, piercing it, scratching it. He squashed almost all remaining fleeing Bugs. Some hissed & couldn’t believe it as they thought they were good bugs and didn’t deserve such harsh treatment. The Foe, like The Artist also saw a few Bugs he liked, and so he saved them in his pockets for future use, as he, like the Artist also made his own Creations when he was allowed too. When the Artist saw that his Foe had done “good work” in destroying the Artwork, he simply froze him. The Artist froze the Foe for at least 7 centuries, as was the standard protocol, as the Foe was always far to would up with excitement after when being used in such enjoyable demolition jobs.

The Foe knew it was coming, this had happened many times before – so he complied meekly in the end, but for a few barbs. Now The Artist had a blank ‘canvas’ just as he had wanted, after seeing it for what is was. The Artist thought of the new Artwork to replace the old. This time he would make a more bountiful work, with a far less harsh foreground and a heart warming background. He would have less Bugs, & instruct them more wisely. He would give less crust & more water. He placed the bugs back on the emerging canvas. “Now enjoy new Artwork” he said to the Bugs. I have made it easier for you to prosper, the land is bountiful, and the wind sings. There is no flood-building rain, there is no ground shaking as like the rattlesnake tail. The Artwork will have few major natural calamities. The bad Bugs are gone, and your good work can now prosper as you go forth and multiply in this ‘New Eden’. The Bugs listened and crawled in to this ‘New Eden’ – the New Artwork from The Artist.

The Artist was true to his word, The wind was songful, The ground still, the rain was warm and the suns rays were visible as a collection of never ending long shimmering streaks. The other animal life around the Bugs came forth, and was totally different from before, more at peace and there were now no animals eating each other, there was no need to murder for sustenance. The plants were luxuriant fruit of giant ripe orbs, all close enough to pluck.. The Bugs heard a booming voice from both everywhere and nowhere: “My Creations, now listen to me. My only wish is for you to take this bounty & not repeat the mistakes of the prior generation, you are now the leaders of this New Eden – ‘The Artwork’ , and you are no longer the bedraggled outcasts of my long forgotten ravaged and now dead former Artwork. I have rewarded you, you are free to become Kings of the Kingdom of your choosing. I wish you farewell and good luck”.

And with this wish, The Artist left and the booming voice disappeared. He could now think of another exciting project. The forming of the idea was his biggest pleasure – for the idea was always perfect. All his ideas were perfect, it was only in the ‘breathing into life’ and moments afterward in the physical realm, that problems arose. The Bugs enjoyed this New Eden for 10 000 fine fruitful years and 300 generations. This was until a descendant of the 1st of New Eden’s Bugs decided to write the stories of the past. This Bug had realized this would allow society to have a precise memory of all the good things they had made, like the ‘Warmthcloth’ they wore in winter, the ‘SlingCut’ which was used to harvest fruit. With writing this Bug knew society could progress faster and make more amazing new labor saving devices, so as to give them even more restfulness and leisure.

When this Bug wrote these first words in the dirt, it triggered a silent notification to ripple outwards beyond The Artwork itself. The Artist received this message cosmically & instantly. With this The Artist again knew that the scourge of Written language would again ruin his New Eden, His Artwork, his Creation. He thought to himself ‘Now the Bugs have written down words, lies and foolishness will now soon take hold and sow the seed for the required Regeneration’.

Of course at heart The Artist always knew this self defilement of the Artwork from the discovery of Writing would inevitably happen. The discovery of Writing put in place a cascading train of consequences that would result in the Bugs discovering this ‘Supreme Law’, the one that put everything else in motion, the thing that made everything possible. The Artist before time had begun had decided discovery of this law would be forbidden. This ‘Supreme Law’ was necessary for it was the thing that would allow for organic change within his Creations, it allowed for change to occur. With the Supreme Law Artworks had the chance to find their own way – to somewhat control themselves and develop. He wrote The Supreme Law into the system, hardwired if you will, it was the only fundamental Law that he would never change or be able to changed – even by himself.

The Artist called This Supreme Law by a pet name – ‘The Principle of Uncertainty’. ‘Uncertainty’ in that whenever something could be seen, you wouldn’t know where it was, and where you knew where something was – it could no longer be seen. This allowed things to be fundamentally differentiated and slightly unbalanced. With this imbalance 100% particle annihilation would not occur and thus there was a remainder of things to exist, coalesce and change. Planets, Stars and life could now form. He made this Law show itself only on this smallest building block scale, so as to hide it for as long as possible. Cloaking the Supreme Law, the ‘Principle of Uncertainty’ in such tinyness would allow thousands of years to go by before Bugs in any particular Artwork could discover it. With this stroke of genius, The Artist knew his Artwork, indeed all future and past Artworks, would be able to grow independently of him. It allowed free will to exist. Without the Uncertainty Principle nothing at all would or could happen, which wouldn’t do as Artist likes to makes interesting unpredictable things, not boring nothings.

His inevitable eventual intervention in all his Creations was simply the price to be paid for natural growth and change inside his Artworks, his loving Creations. Of course he, The Artist, the force who designed it all from scratch, knew this fact. Despite this brute fact, he was always deeply and inconsolably upset and even angry every time he had to regenerate one of his Artworks. Upon every Regeneration event, he had to seek a period silence and solace just to assuage his loving and grievous heart. He referred to this period of ‘hiding as ‘The Retractment’, a period that lasted approximately a millennia.

Strangely, no how many iterations of Creations and re-Creations of Artworks, the Bugs within a particular Artwork never seemed to understand the core trigger which caused total cataclysm and thus their own demise to grow. They never clicked what the seed was that turned their bountiful paradise into a fiery, shaky illness ravaged living hell. They never realized that the discovery and use of written language would also allow them to discover The Artist’s prime Law. The Uncertainty Principle once discovered unleashed a cascading knowledge that became uncontrollable in its unintended consequences, to the point its internal processes became too much imbalanced. The environmental and social runaway train that came after the discovery of Writing always rendered all Bugs totally inconsequential. The Bugs in every case, were always so surprised when they couldn’t come up with a fix.

The Artist could never quite accept that the Bugs were, after infinite trials, never smart enough to stop themselves from the evils of writing things down. The Artist thought to himself the same thought he always had while working on a Regeneration – “One day it will come, one day there will be an Artwork with change without spiraling destruction, a Creation where Bugs realize spoken stories are supreme and sacrosanct, and are wise enough to never write down the first letter and attach a sound to it”

The End

Thankyou for listening to “The Baby Wants It’s Bottle Poetry Inc.” Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Non Commercial/Educational Broadcast is Freely Encouraged.