Before
Before
The birth of our universe was not exactly a momentous occasion. There were no grand proclamations, buy-one-get-one free sales, or celebrations of any kind. In fact, our arrival was a mishap that went largely unheralded by the rest of Existence. The Great Embarrassment, as it was derisively referred to by most of the multiverse, was not the proudest moment in cosmic history.
At first, Existence sought to shift attention from its astronomical faux pas with a series of what it hoped would be wondrous diversions.
“Look, over there! A wormhole!”
“Did someone say neutron star?”
“Who wants dark matter?”
When that didn’t work, our universe awkwardly withdrew to a remote corner, and whimpered quietly for a few eons.
Then, after billions of years, far from the more desirable locales of time and space, a fledgling galaxy produced a pearl from the grit and debris left scattered across creation.
Existence was relieved. You might even say elated.
“See, I didn’t have spinach in my teeth after all. I’m doing my part in this great cosmic experiment!”
Our relatively young universe was exuberant, putting all its energy and resources into a major rebranding effort, complete with multi-channel streaming initiatives, guest appearances, and product endorsements.
Soon after, the Great Embarrassment was promoted everywhere as the Big Bang, all thanks to the creation of this pearl of a planet, now proof of a great plan, and eventually referred to by future inhabitants as Gaia, Tonantzin, Unci Maka, or Earth. The planet gave rise to a remarkable species that was intelligent, industrious, and dedicated to the collective good. But this story isn’t about dolphins. Or farmer ants. Or even elephants. It’s about homo sapiens. The same species that gave the cosmos telemarketing, spray cheese, and platform shoes.
Oh, well. You work with what you got.
As humans evolved, so did their habitats. Contrary to popular belief, most did not live in caves, finding the monthly maintenance fees to be excessive. Early on, the nomadic life was more prevalent, allowing humans to roam wherever they wanted, a lifestyle that had a major resurgence in the 1970s thanks to the popularity of van conversions.
Eventually, people got tired of the nomadic lifestyle, growing disillusioned because of the dearth of decent restaurants, never mind finding one with a Michelin star. This led to the development of more permanent settlements such as hamlets, villages, shires, towns, and cities. Each had their advantages and disadvantages.
Hamlets were great if you wanted to avoid most other humans, but the dating prospects were limited. Villages had more to offer, including a decent number of robust farms, one or two annual fairs, and the legally required village gossip. Shires were very similar to villages but were vulnerable to gentrification by hobbits. Cities, of course, attracted people in extremely large numbers, giving them the opportunity to live in close proximity which couldn’t possibly lead to any problems at all.
Of all the possible human settlements, it was the town, particularly the small town, that offered the most attractive living conditions, proven by the number of musicals in which they were featured. In a small town, residents look out for each other, often employing binoculars to get a better peak inside each home. People in small towns develop highly evolved manners, ensuring that no one is ever discussed as long as the party in question is present. Most important, in a small town, everybody always gets along.
Let’s look at the humble beginnings of one small town.
***
The trader stumbled upon a remote settlement while paddling his canoe down river in a part of the country that was still wild and isolated.
He saw a group of fishermen working on their nets, and since he had been on his own for several weeks, he thought he would avail himself of their company.
As he pulled his canoe out of the river, the fishermen told him he was welcome and invited him to share the meal they were roasting over a small fire. Not surprisingly, it was fish.
“What do you call this place?” the trader asked.
“Hasn’t got a name yet,” replied the oldest fisherman.
“Do you catch a lot of fish here?” asked the trader, who knew nothing about fishing, but was hungry for conversation and maybe some fish cooked over an open fire.
The fishermen exchanged a look which could have been interpreted as “Do you think we’d be living here and spending all our time working on fishing nets if there weren’t any fish? Traders. Not the smartest example of the human species.”
But instead, the oldest fisherman said. “Yep.”
“Lots of trout,” said one of the others. “And a few of these strange fish that blow up when you catch them. We call ’em pufferfish.”
“Don’t eat ’em though,” the oldest fisherman warned. “They’re poisonous like rattlesnakes.”
The youngest fisherman joined in. “We catch so many fish, we’re wearing out the trail between here and the settlement. Some of the others are going to build a cobblestone road down to the river to make things easier.”
“A road made of stone, huh?” commented the trader, impressed. “Imagine.”
“They were invented by the ancient Romans,” the youngest fisherman explained, showing off his two years of schoolhouse education.
The oldest fisherman stopped his repair work and looked at the trader. “Welcome to civilization.”
