said, “but all of them would bear some trace of what came before. I have already told you that you were not of my making. Name yourselves, choosing such words as please you and will be wieldy in frequent use. You cannot undo your decision. Tomorrow tell me, and I and all other souls will thenceforth know you by those names.”
The man and the woman thanked El and bade him and his angels goodbye as they withdrew through the great gate into the Palace.
That night they could not sleep well, but lay awake considering all that El had given them knowledge of. The moon shone full and the wind blew as was its wont late in the fall. Over the walls they could hear the rustling of branches, and from time to time sharp cracks as old boughs gave way and fell to the ground. As well they heard the voices of creatures of a kind that did not live in the Garden. The man and the woman had never seen these creatures but heard them singing from time to time when the moon was full. Tonight their voices seemed many—many more than two. “I wonder,” said the woman, “why it is that there are but two of our kind, you and me, but other sorts of creatures exist in greater numbers. How is it that more are made? Does El or one of his angels fashion them and set them roaming in the Land outside the wall?”
“Perhaps,” said the man, “or perhaps such creatures have the power of making more of their kind from seeds, as does the apple tree.”
“Are such seeds planted in the earth to sprout? Do the animals grow up out of the soil in the spring, like plants?”
“I do not know and cannot guess,” said the man. “It is perhaps another of those mysteries of the Before Time that will be revealed to us when we are ready.”
They did not speak at all of the task that had been set them by El. But when the sun had risen they went to the fountain and sat on the edge of the stone bowl to consider names. “Son of El” and “Daughter of El” were good in that they gave honor to El, but wrong since El had let them know that they were not actually of El’s making. They considered naming themselves after trees, flowers, or creatures of the Garden, then thought better of it since confusion would result. They then tried combining sounds in whatever way was pleasing to the ear, and thus whiled away part of the morning.
“No one asked for my opinion,” said an unfamiliar voice, “but I am partial to Adam and Eve. I guess it’s the Alpha in me.”
The man and the woman looked about in astonishment but could not see the source of the voice. “Down here,” it said, “on the apple.”
The woman bent down and raised a fallen apple from the ground. Protruding from a hole in its side was a little worm, similar to—perhaps the same as—the one she had ejected from a rotten apple the other day. It was but one of many kinds of insects and spiders and worms that populated the Garden. But until now they had never known one to speak. “What manner of creature are you, then,” she asked, “that has the form of a worm but the faculties of a soul?”
“The Land is large,” said the worm, “much larger than you know, and full of things much more wondrous than a talking worm. But if you must have an answer, I am an old soul who walked on and flew over the Land during the First Age, and passed through adventures too strange to relate. Sometimes I dwell in the Garden and sometimes I roam free upon the Land, or even go to realms that are altogether different and disjoint from it. When I am here in the Garden, sometimes I am a leaf, sometimes a bird, sometimes a stirring in the air. But today I am a worm, because I am hungry and wish to enjoy the sweet, slightly fermented flesh of the apple.”
The woman was of a mind to ask the worm for more information concerning the First Age, but the man spoke first: “Eating is not a thing that we do. We see other sorts of creatures eating fruits and other parts of plants, and birds eat bugs. But souls such as we have no need of it,