Egg

In the crepuscular gloom of dawn, the first egg sat quietly and pondered its existence.

The simplicity and certainty of being an egg was often satisfying although there were times (the present instant as an example) where the lack of direction and/or greater purpose could lead to an irritable ennui.

It was at times like these that the egg began to contemplate the world outside of itself. It considered the bracken that formed its bed and the hard, stony frame which pushed through the foliage and pressed awkwardly against the egg’s outer membrane. But these ruminations would lead inevitably to thoughts of the egg’s own comfort (or lack thereof) and the egg was keen to explore further afield, beyond its own experience and understanding.

What was outside this nest?

The egg wondered (and not for the first time) what destiny would be discovered if it dared (or, indeed, had the capacity to) roll forward. Would it simply find more bracken? Or more rock? Or possibly (and this somewhat stretched the egg’s imaginative faculties) something else entirely? But what else? Something like bracken? Or something like rock? Perhaps softer than bracken. Or harder than rock. Or some unfounded density that resided somewhere between bracken and rock. Brock? Rocken? Rack?

One of the greater frustrations of being an egg was having a rather limited frame of reference.

But these contemplations on the possibilities of “something else” would inevitably lead the egg to consider the concept of “nothing else”, which led, inextricably, to the notion of nothingness. What if it rolled forward to find nothing? No rock. No bracken. No egg. Just nothing. Would the egg fall? Float? Fly? Disappear?

What if rolling forward meant the end for the egg? No more egg. But then what would happen to the bracken and the rock? With no egg to surround, support and nest, what would be their use? The egg had often attempted to conjure up some other meaning for its silent companions but with little success. The egg could never quite come to terms with the idea of bracken or rock before egg. As far as the egg was concerned, it had always been there (at least for as long as the egg could remember) and so there could not possibly have been anything before it. And if the egg were to come to an end, that would surely result in the denouement of everything that the egg had ever understood. However, this link between the perception of Self with the existence of Other would lead the egg to the incontrovertible conclusion that the egg could never be truly certain that anything existed before, after or outside of itself.

This dawning solipsism brought little comfort to the egg. In fact it was downright depressing.

And so the egg reached far down, through its albumen, into the recesses of its yolk and searched, desperately, for another incontrovertible conclusion. There must have been something before the first egg. Something. After all, the egg could not have appeared from no where. Some object, some being, some Other must have had some part in an arrangement which lead to the creation of the egg. During these sessions of philosophical meditation, the egg had, piece by piece, constructed an image of its creator:

At first, the egg had envisaged a giant version of itself: same rotund shape and speckled tan; simply bigger. But this manifestation did not satisfy the egg. Surely the creator of an egg must be considerably more complex than an egg and the egg itself felt that it lacked the capacity to create a miniature version of itself (despite the egg’s apparent ability to construct bracken, rock and a giant Creator Egg out of nothing). And so the giant egg was compounded upon. On top of the giant egg, the egg placed another, much smaller egg. This could move independently of the larger egg body but was, nevertheless, irreducibly connected. Sticking out from this smaller egg was the top end of an even tinier egg, only this one was as hard as rock and split through the middle, allowing it to open and shut at will (the excitement, when this latest installment was added, came from the possibility that the egg had now designed an opening in the Creator Egg through which the egg may well have emerged). In subsequent cogitations, the egg went on to attach two large leaves of bracken on either side of the Creator Egg which would largely remain motionless and parallel to the main, giant egg until they were called upon to lift up and stretch outwards from the body. This appurtenance afforded the Creator Egg the sufficient grandeur and majesty required to adopt the role of architect and originator of the first egg.

Having now begotten this begetter, the egg allowed itself a certain comfort. The Creator Egg offered few answers but the egg at least had somewhere to direct its musings.

What is outside this nest?

Is there something else, beyond my understanding?

What happens when I am nothing?

What came before me?

Who am I?

Who are you?

On this particular occasion, the egg found itself falling into the same cycle of thought and reflection but remained entirely unaware of its own evanescence and impending cessation. Had the egg been aware how little time it had left, it may well have shifted the trajectory of its introspection.

For in the bowels of the first egg, something slowly stirred, pushed against the sides and began to ask its questions.

G