The Egg

The Egg is a short tale written by Andy Weir. It has been into two kinds of Anglish.

Arcthunder's Wending
Thiss is written with  uf ,  spelling, and no  or  frum. bi Arcthunder.

The Writ
on way home when thu.

It was a. Nuthing, but nuntheless. Thu left behinde a wife and two children. It was a deth. The   best to  thee, but to no. Thi body was so utterly shattered that thu wert better off, me.

And that's when thu met me.

"What… what ?" Thu asked. "Whare am I?"

"Thu swelted," I sed. No in grinding wurds.

"Thare was a… a, and it was sliding…"

"Yup," I sed.

"I… I swelted?"

"Yup. But don't feel bad abute it. Evryone swelts," I sed.

Thu looked abute. Thare was nuthingness. Naut but thee and me. "What is thiss ?" Thu asked. "Is thiss the afterlife?"

"More or less," I sed.

"Art thu God?" Thu asked.

"Yup," I. "I'm God."

"My kids… my wife," thu sed.

"What abute ?"

"Will be alrite?"

"That's what I like to see," I sed. "Thu swelted and thi main  is for thi . That's  rite thare."

Thu. To thee, I didn't look God. I looked lich sum man. Or maybe a woman. Sum , maybe. More uf a  teacher than the almity.

"Don't wurry," I sed. "Hie'll be alrite. Thi kids will thee as flawless in evry way. Hie don't hav time to . Thi wife will weep on the uteside, but will be  . To be fair,  wedlock was falling . If it's eny, she'll feel  gilty for feeling soothed."

"O," thu sed. "So what befalls nu? Doo I go to hevven or hell or sumthing?"

"Neither," I sed. " be ."

"Ah," thu sed. "So the Hindoos wer rite,"

"All troths rite in hir own way," I sed. "Wak with me."

Thu followed along as we strode throo the. "Whare ar we going?"

, I sed. ""

"So what's the ord, then?" Thu asked. "When I, I'll be but a , rite? A baby. So all my  and evrything I did in thiss life won't ."

"Not so!" I sed. "Thu hast within thee all the knoledge and undergoings uf all thi lives. Thu naut but don't mun hem rite nu."

I stopped wakking and took thee by the showlders. "Thi sowl is more, , and than thu canst  . A  minde can only  a slivver uf what thu art. It's lich sticking thi finger in a glass uf watter to see if it's hot or colde. Thu put a tiny deal of thieself into the , and when thu bringest it back ute, thu hast  all the undergoings it had."

"Thu hast ben in a for the last eit-and-forty years, so thu hast not streched ute yet and felt the rest uf thi  . If we hung ute here for long enuff, thu'd start munning evrything. But thare's no  dooing that between each life."

"Hu meny times hav I ben edfleshhamed, then?"

"O lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of lives." I sed. "Thiss time abute, thu'lt be a  girl in 540 A.D."

", what?" Thu stammered. "Thu'rt sending me back in time?"

"Well, Time, as thu knowest, only  in thi . Things ar sundry whence I cum."

"Whence thu cummest?" Thu sed.

"O ," I. "I cum frum sumwhare. Sumwhare elce. And thare sind uthers lich me. I know thu'lt to know what it's lich thare, but trewthfully, thu woodn't understand."

"O," thu sed, a little dune. "But bide. If I yet edfleshhamed to uther steds in time, I cood hav mieself at sum ord."

"Wissly. Befalls all the time. And with boath lives only aware uf hir own lifespan, thu don't even know it's befalling."

"So what's the ord uf it all?"

"?" I asked. "Ernestly? Thu'rt asking me for the meaning uf life? Isn't that a littel ?"

"Well it's a fair ," thu.

I looked thee in the iye. "The meaning uf life, the I made thiss hole alshaft, is for thee to ."

"Thu meanest mankinde? Thu wilt uss too ripen?"

"No, only thu. I made thiss hole alshaft for thee. With each new life thu grow and ripen and becum a bigger and greiter ."

"Only me? What abute evryone elce?"

"Thare is no one elce," I sed. "In thiss alshaft, thare's only thee and me."

Thu stared at me. "But all the folks on Erth..."

"All thee. Sundry uf thee.

"Bide. I'm evryone!?"

"Nu thu'rt yetting it," I sed, with a slap on the back.

"I'm evry mennish being hoo evver livved?"

"Or hoo will evver liv, yes."

"I'm Abraham Lincoln?"

"And thu'rt John Wilkes Booth, too," I.

"I'm Hitler?" Thu sed,.

"And thu'rt the he killed."

"I'm ?"

"And thu'rt evryone hoo followed him."

Thu.

"Evry time thu someone," I sed, "thu wert unfairly wraking thieself. Evry deed uf kindness thu hast dun, thu hast dun to thieself. Evry  and sad  evver undergon bi eny man was, or will be, undergon bi thee."

Thu thot for a long time.

"Whye?" Thu asked me. "Whye doo all thiss?"

"Forthat sumday, thu wilt becum lich me. Since that's what thu art. Thu'rt one uf mi kinde. Thu'rt mi childe."

"Whoa," thu sed,. "Thu meanest I'm a god?"

"No. Not yet. Thu'rt a . Thu'rt still growing. Once thu hast livved evry mennish life throoute all time, thu wilt hav grown enuff to be born."

"So the hole alshaft," thu sed, "it's but..."

"An ey." I anqueathed. "Nu it's time for thu to on to thi next life."

And I sent thee on thie way.

Frith's (TimeMaster) Wending
Ðis is an Anglish of "The Egg" by Andy Weir. Ðe has sum  of , along wið marks of Anglish (Frið, not Hurlebatte) stafing and  stafing. by TimeMaster (staddeled off Arkðunder owing to TM standing strongly no-Norse Anglish (sunderly "ey", as ðis word is far too short), "thou" (also, ðis word shuld be moast likely be stafed "ðu", not "ðue", as it wuld be a swið mene word like "we"), and sum bits of Hurlebatte's stafings that uðers need to be liking less).

Þe Writ
Yu wer on yure way home when yu died.

It was a. Noðing, but noneðeless. Yu left behind a wife and two cildren. It was a deð. Ðe  ðeir best to  yu, but. Yure body was so utterly shattered ðat yu wer better off, trust me.

And ðat's when yu met me.

"What… what happened?" yu asked. "Where am I?"

"Yu died," I said streht-forwardly. No in grinding words.

"Ðere was a… a, and it was sliding..."

"Yup," I said.

"I... I died?"

"Yup. But don't feel bad abute it. Eferyone dies," I said.

Yu looked abute. Ðere was noðingness. Naht but yu and me. "What is ðis ?" yu asked. "Is ðis ðe afterlife?"

"More or less," I said.

"Are yu God?" yu asked.

"Yup," I. "I'm God."

"My kids... my wife," yu said.

"What abute ðem?"

"Wil ðey be alriht?"

"Ðat's what I like to see," I said. "Yu nu died and yure main is for yure . Ðat's good stuff riht ðere."

Yu. To yu, I didn't look like God. I looked like sum man. Or maybe a woman. Sum , maybe. More of a  tecer ðan ðe almihty.

"Don't wurry," I said. "They'l be alriht. Yure kids wil yu as flawless in efery way. Ðey didn't haf time to . Yure wife wil weep on ðe uteside, but wil be  . To be fair, yure wedlok was falling . If it's eny, she'l feel  gilty for feeling freed."

"Oh," yu said. "So what happens nu? Do I go to hefen or hel or sumðing?"

"Neiðer," I said. "Yu'l be ."

"Ah," yu said. "So ðe Hindoos wer riht,"

"All ar riht in ðeir own wey," I said. "Walk wið me."

Yu followed along as we strode ðruh ðe. "Where ar we going?"

, I said. ""

"So what's ðe ord, ðen?" yu asked. "When I get born, I'l be but a , riht? A baby. So al my and eferyðing I did in ðis life won't ."

"Not so!" I said. "Yu haf wiðin yu al ðe knowledg and undergoings of al ðe lifes. Yu naht but don't mun ðem riht nu."

I stopped walking and took yu by ðe sholders. "Yure soul is more, , and ðan yu kan . A  mind kan onely  a  of what yu ar. It's like stikking yure finger in a glass of watter to see if it's hot or kold. Yu put a tiny dele of yureself into ðe , and when yu bring it bak ute, yu haf  al ðe undergoings it had."

"Yu haf been in a for ðe last fourty-eht yeres, so yu haf not strecced ute yet and felt ðe rest of yure  . If we hung ute here for long enuff, yu'd start munning eferyðing. But ðere's no  doing ðat between ece life."

"Hu meny times haf I been born eft, ðen?"

"Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of lifes." I said. "Ðis time abute, yu'l be a  girl in 540 A.D."

", what?" yu stammered. "yu'r sending me bak in time?"

"Wel, I gess . Time, as yu know, onely in yure . Ðings ar sundry where I kum from."

"Where do yu kum from?" yu said.

"Oh ," I. "I kum from sumwhere. Sumwhere else. And ðere ar uðers like me. I know yu'l want to know what it's like ðere, but treuðfully, yu wuldn't understand."

"Oh," yu said, a littel dune. "But bide. If I yet born eft to uðer steds in time, I kood haf myself at sum ord."

"Wissly. Happens al ðe time. And wið boðe lifes onely aware of ðeir own lifespan, yu don't efen know it's happening."

"So what's ðe ord of it al?"

"?" I asked. "Ernestly? Yu'r asking me for ðe mening of life? Isn't ðat a littel ?"

"Wel, it's a fair ," yu.

I looked yu in de iye. "Ðe mening of life, ðe I made ðis hole alwurld, is for yu to ."

"Yu mene mankind? Yu want us to ripen?"

"No, onely yu. I made ðis hole alwurld for yu. Wið ece new life yu grow and ripen and bekum a bigger and greter ."

"Onely me? What abute eferyone else?"

"Ðere is no one else," I said. "In ðis alwurld, ðere's onely yu and me."

Yu stared at me. "But al ðe folks on Erð..."

"Al yu. Sundry of yu.

"Bide. I'm eferyone!?"

"Nu yu'r getting it," I said, wið a slap on ðe bak.

"I'm efery man ho efer liffed?"

"Or ho wil efer lif, yes."

"I'm Abraham Linkoln?"

"And yu'r John Wilkes Booð, too," I.

"I'm Hitler?" yu said,.

"And yu'r ðe he killed."

"I'm Jesus?"

"And yu'r eferyone ho followed him."

Yu fell.

"Efery time yu someone," I said, "yu wer blooting yureself. Efery deed of kindness yu haf doen, yu haf doen to yureself. Efery happy and sad  efer undergoen by eny man was, or wil be, undergoen by yu."

Yu ðoht for a long time.

"Why?" yu asked me. "Why do al ðis?"

" sum day, yu wil bekum like me. Sið ðat's what yu ar. Yu'r one of my kind. Yu'r my cild."

"Whoe," yu said,. "Yu mene I'm a god?"

"No. Not yet. Yu'r an . Yu'r stil growing. Onse yu haf liffed efery man's life ðruhute al time, yu wil haf grown enuff to be born."

"So ðe hole alwurld," yu said, "it's but..."

"An egg." I answered. "Nu it's time for yu to on to yure next life."

And I sent yu on yure wey.