THE GENESIS OF CONSCIOUSNESS – LADY FREYA HELLA’S ACCOUNT

In a particle of time before infinity went viral: Imagine if you can, a yesterday, a today, a tomorrow, all unable to boast of unambiguous powers of retention or, perhaps, frivolous sex lacking a diarised recall, maybe a backpacker’s wet dream short of heavenly remembrance, then again, perhaps conceivably priceless drugs devoid of hallucination’s recollections and so on and so forth. You see, dear reader, that is what the cosmos would be like were it the case consciousness had never drawn breath. What pray, ‘infinity’ without a point of being? Distant stars unseen, red roses without beholders, confrontations in the absence of bloodshed’s echo, lovers as cognizant lotus-eaters ne’er knowing love. These were the things I thought long and hard about when considering the boundless, yet empty, epochs ahead, making their unobserved way up on the then purposeless conveyor belt of time. In the end it became an obsession until the day I determined what was required was a realization of highly intelligent primate’s blessed with an awareness.

If not perceived, shared, recorded or foreseen, consciousness means diddly-squat…oblivion, by any other name. As a vaccine to a malaise, consciousness is the cure for what previously was wholly invisible. I can verify from experience that time is pure yet woefully lifeless without consciousness. Consciousness is all…nothing exists without it. I should know, I am ‘time itself’ these days in physical form. As such, twiddling my thumbs, unoccupied and feeling impatient, I saw fit to share my consciousness for no other reason than to feel alive…selfish, I know. The question was, ‘to whom would it be shared’. Infinite time didn’t give a tuppeny-toss, ergo I didn’t. However, abject boredom changed all that. I had the skills, I had the desire. I created the finite within all things infinite, the net result neither an abstract freak of primordial falsities nor tedious theoretical drivel. In short, I created all that was missing, namely creatures with functional brains, fit for purpose. I should add, when I refer to self in ‘physical form’ think crystal ball with a pulse, foretelling a then zero-riveting future with sweet fuck all to its name. Since appending eyes that see all, ears that can hear a pin drop, limbs that climb snowy mountains, and cerebral matter that stores bygone days and dreams of days to come, what inglorious fun I’ve had.   

From the outset of my quest, I decided I’d be the closest thing to a god my creations would ever have, without godly rules or scriptural regulations. That it didn’t work out that well when my human newbies fashioned a make-believe god, sometimes impossible gods and goddesses, most of male gender in their own image, a thing that defined both their arguably impressive imaginative intelligence as well as their innate stupidity. In my position as guardian of self I vowed I should never intervene in the lives they had chosen nor the mistakes they made, save for ensuring no self-serving vagabonds nor nosy little green men interfered or played around with time’s…in other words ‘mine’…unprocessed past events or in relative terms, day’s still to come latent eventualities.

Although, and unlike the good book’s supreme being, I did take the executive decision to live amongst my coherent flock, yet keeping my secret to myself and those chosen few I’d immortalized along the way, be they friends, lovers and, by default, mortal demons.  

When I first invented consciousness I made some terrible mistakes. A case in hand being that I often wish I’d never granted nor masterminded emotions. Then again, what would the conscious rabble do without them?

When valued time began: In the beginning belching volcanos were run of the mill, exceptionally large, boiling puddles dotted all over the place counted the days until their purpose revealed itself and, importantly, there was nought to kiss and cuddle. Perhaps worst of all, a comprehensive lack of consciousness for without it, as I’ve explained, nothing existed. In my considered view, I knew I had missed a trick, yet for dear life could not fathom how to remedy the problematic situation I found myself in. Then a eureka moment. A plate of raw oysters and one too many pints of golden pilsner later I came up with the idea of humans with functional brains. Something better than the average anthropoids was a cerebral necessity. Given my…some, mainly the silly ones that is, would come to say, ‘divine’…immortal status wasn’t for sharing, I determined these things I’d named ‘humans’ would be mere mortals aware of their limited existence. In that way infinity could be an unfaltering edifice. 

Design one: The females of the species. “Elementary, dear Goddess,” words jokingly spoken to just ‘me’, for I simply modelled them on the same template I’d chosen for myself. After all I knew well I was an absolute stunner. The end result, the creation of the human female. Thoroughly gratified with my blueprint I set about my task. When brought to fruition and eons prior to the existence of fast food fatties all I could say was, “My girls are nothing short of sublime works of erotic art, if I say so myself.” 

Initially males of the species had not crossed my mind. ‘Twas only when I came to understand…well, in all honesty, remembered…I’d not taken heed of the fact that mortal beings were subject to death, as opposed to a divine being living in perpetuity, I mouthed the first ever swear word the cosmos had ever heard, “Bollocks…gosh, I may well find a use for that word one day.” It was thus that ‘needs must when Lady Freya Hella drives’ made sure the invention of testosterone enhanced masculinity arrived on the scene. Some years on I understand I was quoted as saying, “Males were a rush job. I simply wanted to get the show on the road, as it were. Thick as two short planks, they were only meant to be underlings available for breeding purposes, nothing more. Plainly, I did not model them on myself. Upon reflection the males rank as perhaps my one and only failure.” Overall, and notwithstanding male frailties, I had at a stroke triggered conscious time, for without such a thing my own infinite being would remain an unfathomable nothingness. 

There you have it dear reader, the birth of a species privileged to be gifted knowledge of their existence. Impressive, I say, although multitudes of others would often wrongly remark, ‘fake news’.

The words above are part of a work in process, yet should my recent work take your fancy, herewith the links. I believe the Kindle thingy is free; the paperback inexpensive;

Copyright © 2020. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited although in a crisis I’ve no issue with any reader using the pages of said books as emergency’s loo roll.


31 thoughts on “THE GENESIS OF CONSCIOUSNESS – LADY FREYA HELLA’S ACCOUNT

      1. You’ve just given me an idea. I shall dedicate my new book to the girls, methinks. In the global plan of things it means little, yet…as the old saying goes…’every little helps’.

    1. My thanks, Liz. Ms Freya certainly has her place in the ‘thing’ I am penning, although she isn’t quite the nasty gal I wrote of previously. Freya I like, her opposite I could never bring myself to like. My sincere thanks that you read this piece. Regards, The Old Fool

    1. A good point. I’ve only the one daughter. long grown up, yet she remains my little princess to this day. As to me 400 sons, they’ve never come across like princes…’in part or at all’, as the barrisiters often put it! Have a super 2021. Regards, The Old Fool

  1. Ah, you are truly back, Master Steeden! It would figure that a bit of oyster and pilsner would lead to the creation of humanity, lol. And I do love hearing a “divine” being muttering, “Bullocks.” We do not walk so far apart after all, these creators and we creations…

    1. Thank you, Ms Lee. Isn’t it a wonderful thing that in fiction we can do whatever we like. There’s no other thing in the universe that allows that as its ‘norm’. Keep up the good work, young lady. Regards, The Old Fool

  2. It seems that I was so in a bloody hurry because I have both books since along time! 😂
    And I’ll be waiting bloody again to catch up the new one. Thank you, master. 🙏
    The fool on the heel.

    1. Good to hear from you Sir. I’ve been away for sometime…an irksome illness, the cause. However, I’m doing the best I can right now, and trust your New Year is a fine one. Regards, The Old Fool

  3. Just ordered and reviewed your book. It’s been amazing to watch your blog blow up. I know it’s usually just a “click” but it’s been cool following you all these years.

    1. My sincere thanks, Thomas. In these days of tedium and worry, ‘tis a fine thing to hear kind words. Out of interest what book did you have in mind? I trust, come any read, you arrive the other side of the risqué, yet researched tome with your sanity intact…many haven’t, including me. Regards, The Old Fool

  4. I love this, TOF!
    t’s all coming back…TOF, TOF, TOF……

    That’s how long it’s been.
    Although this piece stands on its own, the fact that I had read your wonderful book, The Blue- Eyed Cat, makes it all the more enjoyable.

    1. My thanks, young Resa. This piece is but a snippet from the sequel to ‘The Blue-Eyed Cat’. ‘Tis called ‘Feral Angel’. Lily, who is said angel, gets to have real feathered angel wings and flies up into the clouds in this new tale. Presently, dear Shirl is proofing the tome as well as ripping apart my appalling grammar as I write. Regards, The Old Onion Hunter

  5. Mike, your posts are like a music to my soul:) I read the Blue-Eyed Cat some time last year, but still have the Tigress unopened. Will give it a couple of months, I want to enjoy it, but my brain is still stiff.

    1. My thanks, Sir. A kind offer indeed. You are more than welcome. Republish whatever takes your fancy, subject to acknowledgement and copyright. My nonconformist, yet fading with age, mind is in dire need of a safe-haven metaphorical gîte every so often. Best Regards, The Old Fool

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