Global Architects by Rachel Smith

The boss approached. Sweeping gracefully over the rippling ocean from the western continent which she must have finally finished inspecting. Apparently, they had gone all out over there. They’d inserted a preposterously long river, definitely the longest so far on this planet. A desert, a rainforest, enormous grassy plains and a wealth of underground ores and minerals. So predictable. They always had to be the ones to create the most prosperous continent. Every time. 

“Now, Oz. You’ve been working on the great southern landmass. How have you been getting on?” 

The boss scrutinised my work with vague noises of interest. Poking the south-eastern mountain ranges, judging their respectability. She pinched a small part of my widespread low plateau desert and seemed satisfied if not a little unimpressed. I waited, staunching the urge to interrupt. “What is this?” the boss was indicating the red sandstone monolith in the middle of my continent. 

I hesitated, “Don’t you like it?” 

“Why did you leave it?” 

“I meant to put it there.” 

“Oz, don’t get me wrong. It’s original but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. The creatures intended for this planet may be confused by an enormous rock in the middle of such a large plateau. They have a predisposition for creating deities … and we need to discourage that.” “But it serves a geological purpose! I’ve rigged it to produce streams of drinkable water once the surrounding landmass reaches a high enough temperature. The creatures will love it!” “I don’t doubt that but we must be careful to make the planet as explainable as possible. You know that.” 

“It’s my most innovative work,” I couldn’t keep the petulant, rebellious tone from my voice, “and I’m not moving it.” 

Published in Issue #9 

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