In the beginning, the Creator moulded man from the dirt of the earth and breathed life in him. Fashioned in the artist’s likeness, man moved upon the planet and took guardianship over every living thing, his hands both a masterpiece and a maker. He named each animal one by one, tending to the land and caring for the flock.
Then the Creator took woman out of man, that man would not be alone, and marriage was born. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh; man is ordained to leave his parents and cleave to his wife. But man leaves the marital home and seeks solace with another’s spouse.
Be fruitful and increase in number. But man flings hearts like Lego blocks and leaves his offspring to find their pieces in other homes. Children, an inconvenient consequence of a fleeting moment.
Replenish the earth, and every seed-bearing plant will be yours for food. Man harvests the land until it can bear fruit no more, as the air burns warmer each passing day and the seas breathe hotter every year. Villages are ravaged by droughts, floods, or fires. The creatures of the earth feed off plastic for food, breed in captivity for a lousy steak, and hunger for better caretakers.
Subdue and conquer the earth. So man plunders cities for his namesake, the oceans for oil, and animals for entertainment. But this is too small-minded, so man leaves the earth and sets claim on the moon. One step for mankind but another giant leap for serving self. Of all man’s choices, the one force driving his ambitions: power. Power, the weight sinking him to the bottom of the warming ocean. Power feeding his desires to be more, be better, be great. Power, the fuel driving his worn-out engine. Power, the god telling him to keep going.
Free will, man says, now far too dominant to tend to the birds of the air and the fish of the sea and every other living thing entrusted to him. But man is fruitful. Devoting life to serving the desired vocation, choosing work dinners over family gatherings, a slave to his man-made annual allocation of rest. Holding exhaustion in high esteem and the little things with little regard.
Multiplying wealth, subtracting thought. Man replenishes his accounts hungrily, for nothing ever is quite enough until he subdues all.
And then, having conquered the earth, the moon, the oceans and the air, man finds himself tired from all his work, but not quite satisfied that everything is good.
So man conquers man, for what greater prize than the blood of one’s own kind to paint the road to man’s success.