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Editorial

20th August 2024

Recently, the word has taken on new life – literally, in the form of AI. As John said in Genesis, ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God’. In the media constantly humans are worried, or not worried, or trying to get attention or money for column inches, about this creation of a knowledge-being, a communication-lifeforce, taking from and reassembling information to present to its human creators and compadres, or on which to base decisions for actions.

Just when it looked as if the written word was increasingly injured, suffering and off sick sometime in the early 2000s, with levels of literacy low, libraries underused, and visual media increasingly taking over, it received an unexpected boost from the digital world. Emails, text messages, and comments on written media such as Twitter, became paramount, and everyone needed to be able to write and respond to at least some basic level. Voice calls are now increasingly unpopular in comparison with written word-to-word communication.

I asked one of the major AIs (alongside myself, with my rather prescient initials of AI!) to write something creative in response to ‘Another Creation Myth’. I include what it wrote at the bottom for you to refer to.

The Song of Creation

Before time, there was only Silence. A vast, empty expanse, a void where nothing existed. In this stillness, a single note hummed, a vibration so subtle it was almost imperceptible. It was the seed of creation, a primordial sound.

From this note, a cosmic being emerged, named Lyra. Her form was made of starlight and melody, her essence a symphony of existence. Lyra yearned for company, a chorus to harmonize with her song. With a thought, she willed the universe into being.

She plucked strings from the cosmic harp, and from each note, a celestial body was born. The deep, resonant basslines formed the sturdy foundations of planets, while the soaring trebles became distant stars. The rhythm of creation pulsed through the cosmos, giving birth to galaxies, nebulas, and black holes.

Life, too, was a melody composed by Lyra. She breathed her song into the cosmic dust, and from it emerged the first beings. They were creatures of sound, their bodies vibrating with the harmony of the universe. They lived in harmony with the cosmos, their lives a continuous dance to the music of creation.

As time passed, Lyra’s song evolved. New notes were added, harmonies deepened, and dissonances appeared. The universe expanded and changed, a cosmic symphony in constant motion. But Lyra remained the eternal composer, her music the heartbeat of existence.

And so, the universe continues to sing, a breathtaking melody of creation, a testament to the power of a single note in the silent void.

Would you like me to expand on this myth, or perhaps create another one?

Ephemera

“Who’s that, at the corner table?” Elaine asks Ruthy, who was spinning about the lobby busily serving guests.

“What, him?” Ruthy nodded in the man’s direction, where he sat alone at a table for two. “That’s Henry Wilcox, he’s one of them boys just got back from France or some such, real quiet these days but I tell you he’s still a looker!”

"What did he order?"

"Hmmm? Oh well, I think it was a spot of tea if I remember."

"Mind if I serve it?" Elaine asked.

"Be my guest," Ruthy said with shrug and spun off with her tray of bacon and eggs.

Elaine bustled back to the kitchen and snagged a pot of tea. She didn't know what exactly it was about the soldier, but she knew he had a story. He had that look about him. And well, he reminded her of Dan, and she needed something to take her mind off the old heavy.

“How do you take your tea?” she asked, striding up to his table. He glanced up, startled, from where he'd been staring at his hands folded on the white tablecloth.

"Sorry miss?"

Elaine was in return startled by his deep brown eyes. Soulful eyes, her mama might call them. Soulful and deep. And sad. Elaine felt her heart reach out.

"I asked, how do you take your tea, Henry?"

Henry blinked in surprise, but paused before answering. He knew the question was a more personal one than it appeared. Something about Elaine let him answer honest. Her eyes were disarming.

“With milk and sugar, when no one is around, but I generally skip both in company. And I'm at a disadvantage. You know my name, miss...?”

“Miss Harvey, but you can call me Elaine. And, why would you do such a thing?” Elaine asked, pouring the tea into the petite service.

“Well, present company excluded, I find people judge when a guy like me puts in two teaspoons of sugar and half a cup of milk. I was in the war, after all, I got used to it without. It’s not very manly, you see.”

Elaine gave him a laugh, "And you think it’s more manly, denying yourself things you enjoy?”

Henry took a breath in as if to answer right away, paused, and then answered, “I’m afraid that’s our Western definition of manhood: we grow up on hard truths and self-flagellation. And then we get sent to war to die. Not much enjoyment in that.”

“That’s rather a dull outlook on things. If I had my druthers, we’d all drink tea the way we like, do the things we like, and no one would go off to Europe to shoot each other.”

Henry managed a laugh at that, and quickly raised his hand to his mouth in surprise. Wry or not, it was his first laugh since his buddy Jack got shot.

“What’s so funny?” Elaine queried.

"Well, I haven't laughed in...well, in a good long while."

"Well, we'll just have to change that, won't we mister? So, would you like some tea with your milk and sugar?" She asked as she poured a whole dollop of milk in. The milk bloomed in the glass. She took a small silver spoon, and keeping eye contact with Henry, added two heaping teaspoons of sugar. She stirred, back and forth like her mama taught her.

Henry blushed and glanced away, but his eyes kept darting to the tea as she stirred. He abruptly said, "It wasn't shooting."

"Pardon?"

"I mean, if it was just shooting at each other it would have been fine, you know? It wasn't just shooting. It was the trenches." His jaw clenched, and he tensed as he fell silent.

"Well, this won't do at all, I said I'd make you laugh, and here you are about to cry on me!" Elaine looked over her shoulder surreptitiously, and quickly sat. She took his hand in hers, and rubbed it quick before dropping it.

"Look sir, I don't know you, you don't know me, but when I saw you across the way I just knew I had to get to know you. You've seen some stuff, and well, I've seen some stuff too. Lost some good people. But I'm going to be frank, which is this: you have something that I want."

Henry looked up, and Elaine felt a jolt at those brimming eyes. "What could you possibly want from me? I have nothing left to give."

Elaine brushed the comment aside. "Well, a bit of your time for starters. There's something about you...I'm not sure. You remind me of my brother, Dan. We haven't heard about him in a while back home, all of us are real worried, and we can't seem to find out even basics, like where he's stationed, his squad number, that sort of thing. Heard he might be in France a while back. That's where you were at, right? Maybe you could ask around, help get me some contacts?"

Henry felt himself deflate a bit. It was always something, people wanting impossible things from him. They never seemed to want to talk to him because of himself, but always had an angle. "I'm sorry Miss Harvey, I don't think I'll be of much use. I just was discharged myself, and I really wasn't in France long enough to know any of the soldiers other than in my unit. The rest of my time was in England."

Elaine in turn also deflated, and looked away. To break the awkward moment, Henry took a sip of tea. He made a surprised 'hmm' in the back of his throat, and took another sip. "You make some good tea, miss."

Elaine smiled, still in profile.

"Would you like a cup of tea, miss? How do you take it?"

Elaine glanced in surprise, and huffed a small laugh. "I like coffee, and I take it black."

Henry waived down another waitress, and Ruthy came over to the table. "What can I do for you? Got tired of serving already, Elaine?" she asked, winking at Elaine.

"Can I get a coffee, black, for the missus here?" Henry asked.

"Sure thing, coming right up. Be back in two blinks, you kids have fun!"

Henry looked at Elaine, "Do I detect sarcasm? I didn't mean to call attention to you for sitting, sorry if you get in trouble."

"Oh, its no mind, I don't technically work here. I move through sometimes and they let me pick up a shift or two in exchange for a night's stay."

Surprised, Henry said, "You travel?"

"Yes, before the war I wrote for my newspaper back home as the travel columnist, but since '39 I have been writing a soldier's special column. I didn't want to say, because you strike me as the sort who doesn't want to share the heavy stuff, and doesn't think the lighter stuff worth sharing."

Henry thought the assessment was rather acute for someone who'd just met him. "You got all that from a look?"

"Well no, Ruthy is also a terrible gossip. You two grew up together?"

"We went to school together, I wouldn't call it growing up together. Her parents wouldn't let her near me with a ten foot pole. My family wasn't so well off, part of the reason I enlisted."

"So this is home?"

"This is home. Or, this was home."

At that moment, Ruthy came bustling back with a black coffee. "Now! There we are, enjoy!" And just as quickly scurried off to another table.

"You know, she served as a nurse for a year before coming back here."

"Really?" Elaine turned to watch Ruthy go. She hadn't mentioned anything of the sort on any of Elaine's stops in Mills Creek Hotel. She took a swig of the coffee. It was bitter and strong and reminded her of Dan.

"I'm going to enlist as a nurse then. How do I do that, do you think?"

Alarmed, Henry reached for her hand. "You don't mean that. Don't do that, why would you say that?"

"Its just, I need a way of contacting my brother Dan and if I'm in Europe it would sure be a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it now? There's no way in hell I'm getting over there myself, so I'd better have a good reason, hadn't I?"

Henry just stared. Here was this stunning and bold working woman sitting in front of him, drinking her coffee black, proclaiming she was about to enter the hellhole he had just left. There was no way he could let her do it. No way in hell. He would just have to convince her otherwise.

"Look lady, if you're that desperate to find your brother, I'm sure there are more official ways to go about it. No need to put yourself in harms way. What if they deployed you to the front lines? You'd see men become meat! No one should have to see that! You could be killed, or have to kill someone to put them out of their misery, or run out of morphine, or watch your buddy die, no one should have to see that, or the gas, no one..." Henry's voice had been growing louder, and he broke off, gasping. His chest rose and fell, and a noise like thunder rose in his ears. His hands gripped the teacup, and the liquid quaked.

Elaine, seeing the telltale signs of a panic attack, reached across the table and grabbed his hands, pinning them around the tea. "Breath, Henry, breath! Look at me! Breathe," she breathed in and out to show him. "Feel how hot the tea is? Can you feel it in your hands? What do your hands feel like, Henry?"

Slowly, Henry's heartbeat slowed, and he looked at Elaine. Her hands were around his, steady and strong, and he managed, "The tea...has gone a bit...cold."

"Well that's because of all the milk, mister. The water never had a chance." She continued soothingly, "Hey listen, I just need to find my brother. Whatever you've gone through, I want to spare him that. I think he might be in trouble. Like, big picture cover-up type of trouble. I don't need your help today, but yours is the fate I'm trying to save him from. Think you can do that for me? Save someone else your experiences?"

Henry looked her steady in the eye now. "Yes," he said, "I'd like that very much."

The conversation turned toward lighter things for a while. Ruthy watched the couple, a smile on her lips. She'd always thought that Henry a handsome fellow, but a bit too serious for her taste. And that Elaine, did she ever work hard to get what she wanted. Ruthy loaded up another tray, with a cup of tea with two teaspoons of sugar and too much milk for him, and a coffee black for her. They could sure talk.