The Lines: An Origin Story of Writing #writing #amwriting

The existence was once cloaked in boundless darkness that reached out into undefined markers that weren’t known. Nothing was to be expected from the barren space that stretched from no point to no point. A moment came, the Continuation, that repelled the darkness and sent a shower of lines across the birthed expanse to destinations unknown and about to become. The lines connected with each other in flight to form perfect spheres of no ending and no beginning.

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The lines reproduced themselves onto these spheres in no organized manner. Some lines reached as high as miles in the sky, and other lines reached the deepest depths of these sphere’s cores, only to reconnect and rebound back to the sky. They formed the schemes for the lay of the land and the base of the seas. The ceaseless transformation, the Continuation, pounced once more on these new globes, spreading bits of corporeal debris all throughout the new space.

This fleshy spittle grew accordingly to the surroundings. Their cores and domes refined themselves unwittingly and without sentience to their climes and clamor. Most of these vagabond animations didn’t survive to reach any new level beyond complacency in their continuity. A few of these did beat the bite, and their children erected themselves on the craniums of their creators.

In the domain where the sand swept in waves over the earth, making drifts and defilades over the stretch of horizons, the lines were organic in shape. These borders of form were unlike the rigid frames that were found within and above the planet. They were malleable to the intent of their masters, tamed to imitate a recreation of their vision. It was ambiguous, as its meaning laid within the specific comprehension of a second and seven-hundredth individual who saw them.

There were different perspectives regarding this medium that reverberated throughout the deserts of the Middle East. One side felt that these lines should be mercilessly confined below the surfaces of clay tablets. They used styluses that were as sharp as Mameluke blades to force shapes of their choosing. The lines were wasted on mere civil matters. Records of incidents, transactions, and policy were represented in the lines. These tablets were stored in buildings of clay, solid scrolls entrapped by their own.

An abstraction formed as a reaction to the rigidity of the scribes’ piercings. They felt that the lines could be a reservation for their thoughts, meant to exist beyond their vocal chord’s vibrations. The lines weren’t forced to fit as deep, and they weren’t stamped as forcefully as the scribes felt. This side was known as the composers. The Continuation had to shift its shape to become an equal arbiter of the conflict that was about to occur between the scribes and the composers.

The lines were to be given the ability to shape themselves once for more the defense of their will. They never wanted to be tamed by any sect by human, or by any being at all. They only wanted to be arranged in harmony to the thoughts of their artists and for the brief need of recollection. The lines were enslaved, and they were about to be liberated in a frenzied reach that wrapped around the world. The lines broke from their tablets in the store houses and reached for the dark skies as they descended to contact the ground. The whole earth over was bound in tens of thousands of miles of lines, enveloping humanity below it

After a single rotation on its axis, the line’s tension suddenly broke, and this limitless, malleable material was set free onto the world’s continents and oceans. The lines weren’t going to be subjugated by a single region for the Continuation made sure of that. The lines were going to remain forever free by a gradient of spread across the atlas. Not every line was going to be uncovered by modern humanity as the centuries crawled, denying any true possibility of humanity’s mastery over the lines.

As humanity’s spore of language spread across the world, the lines found it simple to fit in with a system that was simple, executed the same every time. Every line harvested was used to a specific intent, circumventing the chance for undue stress or fruitless creation for creation’s sake. The Continuation never stopped changing the lines over the years a bit more via meager means. Once people knew everything about the lines and wanted to move on to some unconquered plane, the lines would need to be understood further for what changes that weren’t immediately known.

Humanity’s effort to understand these lines, as if there was some ultimate objective, only distances it inexorably.

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