Well, that was a grand gesture, thought Ori. But very possibly an unwise move. I've never seen anything like this before. I mean, nobody has. It's moving downward, who knows where, and I don't even know what it's called.

Call it a 'paternoster'. You won't get the joke now, but you will later.

The statement was accompanied by a deep chuckle – not exactly an unfriendly sound, but still unnerving, here in this otherwise empty conveyance henceforth to be known as a…

'Paternoster,' repeated Ori aloud, which seemed only polite, although, come to think of it, the Voice seemed to be coming from inside Ori's head, rather than outside. In fact, looking around the moving cabinet (which didn't take very long, after all), Ori couldn't detect anyone at all. Not bird or beast or flying thing with a thousand eyes, or upright being with two arms and legs and binocular vision. Nor, indeed, a loudspeaker of any kind, let alone one that could project a Voice inside one's head. So Ori settled for 'disembodied communication' as the most likely explanation.

Ori's speculation was greeted with another low chuckle. The chuckle was deep in pitch, and warm – avuncular, somehow. You're getting it, child. Get off at the next stop and we'll talk.

Stop? thought Ori. The open side of the Paternoster was showing more fluffy clouds. But as the box moved in a direction Ori could only think of as downwards, the clouds gave way to swirling banks of colour: vibrant hues of red, green, gold, blue alternating with paler shades of pastels. Here and there were splashes of unnameable pigments that Ori found downright threatening. Eventually the whole array settled down somewhat to a dull light-grey. It was at this point that the Voice in Ori's head yelled, Jump!

Ori jumped.

At the same time, Ori spread wings and prepared to hover: this was just as well, seeing as how there was no floor. All around, all that Ori could see was a vast expanse – up, down, and sideways – of moving forms. It was noisy, too, with a sound like that of the Celestial Orchestra tuning up and utterly failing to find their 'A', while the Celestial Choir ran endless solfeggi in tragic mistiming.

The whole place smelled of lavender. Ori, who loathed the smell of lavender, sneezed and reached for a handkerchief. Then Ori sighted what was so far the weirdest apparition of all: a park bench, stationary in the midst of madness, for all the world as if it made sense for a park bench to be there. A bench just like the ones in The Penthouse gardens. Only it was sitting in a grey void.

Not knowing what else to do, Ori went and sat on it.

That's a good idea, said the Voice, soothingly. Sit there and rest for a bit while we talk things over.

Ori wasn't finding this restful at all. It was nice – for a certain value of 'nice' – to be sitting quietly. As opposed to hurtling downward in a strange box encountered for the very first time only a short while ago. On the other hand, the vista in front of the bench was anything but restful: weird forms kept swooshing forward at eye level – round shapes, angular shapes, shapes that resembled a line one minute only to turn and reveal themselves as walls the next… Ori found them somewhat menacing. It was as if they were rushing up to the bench to show themselves and say, 'Nyah, nyah.'

'What are you all?' Ori wondered.

Oh, that's right. You haven't encountered mathematics before, said the Voice.

'Mathematics appear to be rather aggressive life forms,' replied Ori. The Voice laughed.

They are, actually. Ignore them. Besides, I have better things to show you.

With that, it seemed that an invisible hand had shooed the aggressive lines and circles and shapes away. Ori breathed a sigh of relief, especially since the smell of lavender seemed to have gone with them, leaving behind a faint odor of jasmine. Now jasmine, Ori liked.

The space all around the bench turned darker and filled with bright lights. Ori sat back and gaped: lights were born, fiery balls, out of multicoloured nebulas. Other bright lights arced across the space, trailing crystalline clouds in sparkling tails. Rocks the size of very large rocks collided, whizzed around, collided again, and formed balls that began to rotate. Some of the very large rocks began to circle – or rather, ellipse – around the bright lights.

'What am I watching?' asked Ori. 'And does it need an audience to happen?'

You're watching Creation, said the Voice, or Evolution, depends on whom you ask. As to whether we need to be watching for it to happen? Ask a philosopher. But be prepared for arguments. Again the deep chuckle.

'All this appears to amuse you,' commented Ori drily.

Yes. And no. It's serious, but a happy thing. A good thing, but you'll have to trust me on that. Anyway, doesn't watching a universe come into being beat singing hosannas any day of the week?

'Well, yes, it does. Er, what's a week?'

Laughter. I like you. You ask good questions. What you're looking at is the first day or two (I forget, haven't read the book in a while and no, don't ask what a book is right now) of the first week. It's just Time. Everybody gets confused about it. Don't worry. It will all become clearer as you go along.

…or more muddled, the Voice mused. We'll just have to see, won't we? The silence that followed seemed very much like a shrug to Ori.

'I guess 'we' will,' replied Ori. 'But while we're talking like this…just who, exactly are you? I can't keep calling you 'the Voice'. It's extremely inconvenient, not to mention needlessly portentous.'

Another imaginary shrug. Hm. Tell you what. Just call me Prajapati for now. It means something like 'creator', and I'm busy creating. Look around you.

'Yes, I'm looking. It's all very impressive, I'm sure. And it beats dancing the 101,111st gavotte to Wholly Satisfactory. But what am I meant to do about it? You didn't pull me in and out of a metaphysical elevator just to show off, did you?'

More laughter. No, my child, I did not. Gaze over there. Ori gazed as directed. A small, mostly-blue planet appeared. It was orbiting (the vocabulary was coming to Ori) a smallish yellow light (oh, yes, Sun) that was out on the arm of a huge, swirling mass of lights (a galaxy, okay). It looked tiny, lonely, but somehow inviting.

'Is that where we're going?' wondered Ori and 'heard' Prajapati nod.

Indeed, that is where you and I are going. Well, you, because you have physical presence in all these dimensions. Me, I'll stay in radio contact. Inside your head. Whenever, er, possible. If you go where I tell you, we might learn something. For right now, I need you to head back to the Paternoster. Jump in and ride down to the next level that looks inviting. And lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the shaft, or something.

Ori did as instructed, jumping back into the Paternoster – a little too hard.

'Ouch! I think I sprained a wing!'

Down went the Paternoster – direction, small blue planet.

Dmitri Gheorgheni