Another Brick in the Fourth Wall

[Nathan Saniti]

Another Brick in the Fourth Wall

Nathan awoke from his slumber to nothing, nothing at all. "Am I Nowhere again?" he pondered inwardly. He took a good look around him. This wasn't like Nowhere.

It had well defined edges to the blank spaces, surrounded by an equally unremarkable field of blue. Where the sky should have been were odd boxes of words hovering in place. He struggled to pull himself to the top border of the whiteness, tripping over the scribblings appearing from thin air as he climbed. Finally, he use the top grouping of words as a foothold to boost his viewpoint.

His head drifted left and right, unsure just what to make of the unusual skyscape before him. He reached up with his right hand, touching a series of six lines, alternately large and small from top to bottom.

As his hand poked the symbol, his body immediately drifted to the exact center of the white space.

"Good heavens!"

He cried.

"What in Creation...?"

"Would you not do that?"

The unexpected booming voice caught Nathan off-guard, giving him quite a start. Slowly, he turned to face the source. "Who... Are you?"

"I'm who you refer to as Creator. Now would you please stop touching things, so I can get on with this?"

"What exactly is it that you need to 'get on with?'" Nathan queried.

The being he was conversing with moved an arrow over another set of large and small lines, this set aligned to the left side.

Some form of magic slung Nathan to the left of the white space, the edge of the white space nearly cutting through his clothes. He let out a yelp of surprise, absently checking his backside for possible contusions.

"Sorry," the Creator said. "I guess I should have warned you." The creature paused either for dramatic effect or for lack of proper verbiage, Nathan was unsure which. "To answer your question, I'm trying to figure out what to do with you. You have a match against Grimm, as such, I against his Creator. He's difficult to beat."

"Difficult is true, but not impossible," corrected Nathan. "I'm sorry, did you say there was more than one of you?"

"Yes."

"How many Creators are there?"

"It's tough to say. I'm just one of many that assist with the PCW Universe." Again, the Creator gave a thoughtful pause. "I really shouldn't be talking to you. Some of the other Creators don't like us communicating with our charges."

"So why was this space empty just mere moments before?" Nathan looked perplexed as words continued to pour into the once blank space. "Did you not have something for me to do?"

"Yeah, about that..." The Creator cleared his throat, the vibratto from the act nearly shaking Nathan clean off of the screen. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a procrastinator and I'm easily distracted when I should be putting you through your paces."

"So why not just let the scenery come to you naturally?"

"I would if I had more time," the Creator stated matter-of-factly. "A Creator's life isn't all abstracts and absolutes. I have things to do. Otherwise, MY Creator may get upset." Nathan's eyes grew wide, completely unable to grasp everything in this conversation. Finally, the Creator spoke again, his tone becaming more upset. "Can we get back to the task at hand here? What are you going to do about Grimm?"

"My best, I hope, as always." Nathan paused to recover some of the boggling his mind had been through. "Though I have to wonder just how well I shall do if my Creator is shaken and unfocused."

"I'm afraid the outcomes are usually beyond my grasp."

"Well, at any rate," Nathan continued, "If I should have a good showing, perhaps it will help show that I belong among the upper echelon of PCW." He furrowed his brow. "Even if the odds be against me this week, there is always the Icemann Invitational Tournament. Hopefully, I'll make a bracket in the next show?"

Nathan's hopeful tone struck at the Creator's heart, but he just slowly shook his head. "That's out of my hands too, I'm afraid. It wouldn't be fair for me to stack things in your favor."

"Poo," humphed the Mystical Magician.

"Sorry." The Creator seemed to be once again stuck for words, an expression on his face as blank as the white area once was. Frustration began to set in his eyes. Then his eyes fluttered to some sort of glowing box with moving pictures on it. Then they flitted to a smaller, hand sized version, his fingers touching it precariously.

Nathan snapped his fingers assertively. "Excuse me! Would you mind concentrating on the task at hand?"

"Sorry. Again."

"Are you going to do your job and Create or not?"

"I..." the Creator stammered, "I don't know what to write about."

"Write about Kelli," Nathan shouted. "Write about the Infiniti Council. Write about the Sins, for crying out loud."

"That's the problem," He answered. "I'm at an impasse, and time is running out."

"I don't know what an imp's posterior has a single thing to do with this conversation. Nor a clock's exercise regimen."

"If I don't get something written soon, you'll be defeated for sure."

Nathan looked at his watch impatiently. The hands were set at precisely eight hundred eighty-eight words and counting. He threw his hands up in disgust. "Oh this is folly! Either you do what you are made to do, or I shall be forced to take my leave!"

The Creator shook his head and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. Apparently, it wasn't the reaction Nathan had desired. Being a man of his word, Nathan stormed out of the scene through a door that appeared from nothingness. It wasn't long after Nathan left the creature that brought him life to his devices, that inspiration finally struck.

The Seeds of Life - Chapter One