By Christopher Hester 29th June 2006 · Last updated 9th February 2009
The gods looked on nervously as the teacher began speaking.
"The scores for all your experimental projects are now ready to be revealed."
She looked around the room filled with a variety of gods differing in size, shape and colour. Each sat patiently infront of a small marble desk. She turned to the nearest god, a small one with blue skin, thin yellow hair and countless greasy tentacles that slimed onto the floor.
"Firstly, you, young god. Most impressive!"
The small god beamed with delight. His results were always good.
"For your project, you named your planet Bluesky, which soon developed a stable growth pattern that will last a very long time. Although you have allowed many differing life-forms to evolve, they are able to cohabit peacefully. Despite a couple of recent disputes over land, which were resolved diplomatically, little has harmed the overall progress of the people on your planet. They continue to dominate while respecting nature and the environment. Pollution is kept to a minimum. I can only mark this result a Pass!"
The god spoke a quiet word of rejoicement to himself. There were only two scores the teacher could give for this project—a Pass or a Fail. It seemed inconceivable that he would ever be given a Fail. He felt he was the brightest god in the class.
The teacher started to walk slowly around the room. She moved closer to a very old white-bearded god wearing simple white robes. The teacher's cold eyes and serious tone of voice told him what he feared would be his score.
"Your planet—while meticulously constructed, with a breathtaking array of species, suffered from too much pride, jealousy and fear. Before long, the inhabitants had evolved—if that's the right word—into people who were desperately trying to outsmart each other. Each group, spread across the planet, thought they were the best. Before too long, they had developed weapons capable of destroying the whole planet. Several times these were tested, with little or no thought to the resulting contamination. The weapons were even used in combat, killing a great many people. My calculations predict a low survival rate for the populace. Put simply, I cannot pass this experiment."
The god sighed. He had tried his best. But younger gods, like those seated around him, were able to outperform him. Their miracles were more spectacular, their life-forms infinitely superior to the crude ones he had created. But what the teacher was about to confirm was the thing that depressed him the most.
"As you know, all failed experiments are to be retested. If they cannot be redeemed, they must be completely destroyed. Your only hope is that the people on your planet can become peacemakers. They will need to follow your guidance, respect each other, care for their planet and its natural resources, care for the animals and birds, always seek peace instead of war wherever possible. I know you tried to help them once with your son, but he was sadly killed. Now the future of the planet hangs in the balance."
The god looked down. He felt a grave sadness come over him. All his hard work over millions of years of time, all could be destroyed in a matter of seconds.
"Better luck with your future projects." the teacher added. "And next time, name your planet something better than 'Earth'."
I had this written on a piece of paper for a few years. I had the basic idea and was able to write it down in one go. Only recently have I typed it up and edited it. The work, of course, remains completely fictional.
© Chris Hester. All rights reserved.