The Egg is a short tale written by Andy Weir. It has been into two kinds of Anglish.
Thissis written with uf , sum Anglish spelling, and no or frum . bi Arcthunder.
Thu wert on thi way home when thu.
It was a. Nuthing , but nuntheless. Thu left behinde a wife and twoo children. It was a deth. The best to thee, but too 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. Nauht 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.
"That's what I like to see," I sed. "Thuswelted and thi main is for thi . That's riht thare."
Thu. To thee, I didn't look God. I looked lich sum man. Or maybe a wooman. Sum , maybe. More uf a teacher than the almihty.
"Don't wurry," I sed. "Hi'll be alriht. Thi kids willthee as flawless in evry way. Hi doen't hav time too . Thi wife will weep on the uteside, but will be . To be fair, yewr wedlock was falling . If it's eny , she'll feel gilty for feeling soothed."
"O," thu sed. "So what befalls nu? Doo I go too hevven or hell or sumthing?"
"Niether," I sed. "be ."
"Ah," thu sed. "So the Hindoos wer riht,"
"All trothsriht in hir own way," I sed. "Wak with me."
Thu followed along as we strode throoh the. "Whare sind we goïng?"
, I sed. " "
"So what's the ord, then?" Thu asked. "When I, I'll be but a , riht? A baby. So all mi and evrything I did in thiss life woen't ."
"Not so!" I sed. "Thu hast within thee all the knoledge and undergoïngs uf all thilives. Thu nauht but doen't mun hem riht nu."
I stopped wakking and took thee by the showlders. "Thi sowl is more, , and than thu canst evver fathom. 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 coald. Thu put a tieny deal uf thieself intoo the , and when thu bring'st it back ute, thu hast all the undergoïngs it had."
"Thu hast ben in afor the last eiht-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 intoo lots uflives." 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 sind 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 havmieself 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, theI made thiss hole all-shaft, is for thee too ."
"Thu meanest mankinde? Thu wilt uss too ripen?"
"No, only thu. I made thiss hole all-shaft for thee. With each new life thu grow and ripen and becum aand greiter ."
"Only me? What abute evryone elce?"
"Thare is no one elce," I sed. "In thiss all-shaft, thare's only thee and me."
Thu staredat me. "But all the foalks on Erth..."
"All thee. Sundryuf thee.
"Bide. I'm evryone!?"
"Nu thu'rt yetting it," I sed, with aslap 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 thehe killed."
"And thu'rt evryone hoo followed him."
"Evry time thusomeone," 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 thoht for a long time.
"Whi?" Thu asked me. "Whi 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 throoh-ute all time, thu wilt hav grown enufh to be born."
"So the hole all-shaft," thu sed, "it's but..."
"An." I anqueathed. "Nu it's time for thu too on to thi next life."
And I sent thee on thi way.
Frith's (TimeMaster) Wending
Ðis is an Anglishof "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).
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. Noin 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 mainis 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 wilyu 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,"
"Allar 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 ðelifes. 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 afor 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 oflifes." 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 hafmyself 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, ðeI 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 staredat me. "But al ðe folks on Erð..."
"Al yu. Sundryof yu.
"Bide. I'm eferyone!?"
"Nu yu'r getting it," I said, wið aslap 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 ðehe killed."
"And yu'r eferyone ho followed him."
"Efery time yusomeone," 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 toon to yure next life."
And I sent yu on yure wey.