The creator cares not for humanity.
For 3000 years, the Aten contemplated the mystery of Their own power. The sun gazed inward. Ruler of eight worlds. Master of innumerable realms.
The brief fascination with Akhenaten and the worship of humans was almost forgotten, their fleeting adulation long since betrayed and destroyed. Until one day, They heard a new song from the third planet. A purity of worship and praise reached Them, kindling wonder and attention, subtle thoughts of philosophy and art. The ancient god’s focus realigned to the ever-changing form of Gaia.
The age of humanity was now in decline. These new worshipers were different. They spread across the world in the tracks of the humans, but these were creatures of the sky. And so, they were nearer to Aten’s heart. The small grey avians were innumerable and curious. The birds watched the humans and learned, made use of their waste. But most of all, they sang.
With unity and understanding, they gave praise to Aten and linked the web of Gaia to him – once again, as it was in epochs gone by. A polity, a unity, all singing the song of creation together.
And, at the core of their song? A request.
To rain judgement upon all creatures who trespassed upon Their holy territory.
Gary walked briskly towards his car. As he approached, he saw that the birds had shit all over the driver’s side window. Again.
Without breaking stride, he picked up a stone. One of the little noisy miners was squatting on a branch nearby, watching him with a smarmy air. Gary snapped his wrist over his elbow and threw.
He only just missed.
The bird took to the air and began the new, horrible, warbling song they had all started doing.
As it swooped past his head, Gary saw wings framed gold against the sun.
There was a flash, and Gary was gone.
A wisp of smoke and few stray cinders drifted to the ground.