“There. That should do it,” said the Artist, as he applied the last indication of where shading was to come.
Many eons after the establishment of the mega-cities at the edge of the canvas, to great shock and awe, the Artist completed his sketch. Once the word about the Artist's completion of his preliminary work got out, millions upon millions of creatures gathered to see the Artist work on the final stage of his masterpiece; the painting of it. Minuscule to colossal. Fat and thin. Brilliant and dim. One headed and several headed. Some were mortal enemies. Some were frequent pleasure mates. But all had come to see the monumental event that was the Artist commencing the first real stroke of paint on his work. Seats were set up all around. When room for any additional seats ran out, several shrewd entrepreneurs set up large scaffolds in the very back and charged several Ouinnies and Onnies per seat. When the demand for seats increased, these men of business started charging rent for the seats. They became so insanely rich, they didn't even care whether or not the piece would ever be finished. And all the while as money was exchanged hands and the best seats were fought over, the Artist prepped his paints.
A dead silence fell over them all, as on that moment the Artist dipped his brush into the tin, coating the hairs in a deep cerulean. He looked at the canvas, hesitating a bit, nearing his hand toward the surface several times, changing his mind just before he could strike. Each time, a collective gasp came from the gathered masses, anticipating the beginning with bated breath. Would it be today? Would it finally happen?
Then, the Artist sighed, shrugged, and struck the canvas. A thunderous cheer exploded behind him, startling him enough to nearly drop his brush. He turned around to face them, seeming almost surprised to see them all there, as if he'd never taken note of them until now.
“Oh, hullo,” he muttered.
A cacophony of voices cried out to him, showering him with questions, pre-mature praise, and accolades for him starting the final phase of the creation of his masterpiece.
His answer to their overwhelming adoration? He chuckled, nodded to the crowd, and continued to stroke the wet brush against the canvas under thunderous applause.
Yes, he painted. For the next several millennia (not that anyone was counting), the Artist would paint undisturbed, ignoring the voices behind him. He ignored their increasing numbers. He ignored their disagreements and quarrels. He even ignored the moment when the unrest grew violent, with the first casualty ringing in what were to be the final days of the mega-city.
Joachim Heijndermans is a writer, artist, filmmaker, and SFWA member from the Netherlands. His work has been published in a great number of publications, featured on podcasts and adapted to television and film, including the Netflix animated series 'Love, Death & Robots'.
Copyright © 2025 Joachim Heijndermans