It was a totally insignificant world.

The whole system was insignificant, for that matter. The central star was still acting up a bit, but it showed every sign of becoming a nice, stable yellow dwarf, of which there were billions in this galaxy alone. The nearer worlds were little rocky lumps, while the outer worlds were massive enough and cold enough to retain deep atmospheres of the lightest elements. Since the system was young, there were frequent collisions between the half-formed worlds and asteroids; the inner worlds would be pock-marked with craters by the time the system truly settled down.

To a casual glance, totally unremarkable.

And yet, two visitors had just arrived.

They flew over the surface of the world, and then through it and out the other side. They considered the still steaming oceans, the convulsions and volcanos that still rocked this world, the strange, bitter-almond tang of the air. They touched and tasted and viewed this world, from its great mountain ranges down to its smallest particles. They watched the great meteors write fire in the sky.

Finally, the first said, "I still don't see why you brought me here."

And the second laughed with delight.

"You Haven't guessed, then?" said the second. "Truly?"

"No. I'm not used to guessing," said the first, a trifle petulantly. "I rarely need to."

"The first paused, considering, and then said, "That moon is a bit large, relative to this world."

"Yes, there was quite a collision here an eon or so ago. The debris coalesced into that moon."

"Still, that's not as unusual as all that," said the first.

The second replied, "You're looking in the wrong direction. Think small."

Several moments passed; then, "I just don't see it. You had better tell me what I am supposed to be seeing; I am running out of patience."

"Very well. Look--look there. Look very closely. Do you see?"

"I see a great deal of--wait. Is that it? That molecule there?"

"Yes. They are all over, actually. Quite beautiful, really, and very complicated. But watch what they are doing."

"They are making copies of themselves!"

"Yes!" said the second.

For the space of several minutes, they contemplated the new discovery. Then the first said:

"I see how they do it. Very ingenious. Did you make these?"

"I found these," the second said.

"Found?"

"I did. Quite by accident, too. I have been spending a lot of time studying them, and I believe I have made some very interesting Projections."

"Really? Tell me."

"I will, but I must warn you--these Projections have led me to a very strange idea. You will almost certainly find it absurd, at first, so I must ask for your indulgence."

"You have it. Proceed."

"The key idea behind my Projections is the insight that these molecules are in competition for the resources to make copies of themselves. It follows that those that make copies most efficiently will make the most copies, and that any changes in the molecules that enhance that efficiency will be selected for continuation."

"That seems quite elementary," said the first.

"I believe that, under the right conditions, and given enough time, these molecules you se here can ultimately lead to material entities that are--well, that are alive," the second finished.

"What!"

"Living things."

"Made out of matter."

"Yes."

"I think I have heard it all now," remarked the first.

In a formal tone, the second said, "There is nothing in the Rules that specifically forbids the eventual formation of living things made out of matter."

"Oh, theoretically, perhaps, but the odds--"

"Are better than you think," finished the second. "Shall I show you my Projections?"

"Certainly."

The second began to hum, then. Simply at first, but as millions of facts entered awareness and were factored together, by the Rules, and probability, the song grew more and more complex; until finally, the second stopped, and said,

"Now look there, along my Projection. Do you see them? Each a complex bundle of chemicals, ingesting molecules, excreting them, and always changing and propagating themselves. And look, the green ones use sunlight to produce energy."

"Well that's not very interesting," said the first. "They are scarcely alive at all, if you want to call it that."

"Look farther. See? They band together now, into beings built of many tiny cells."

"Yes. Some of them grow in sunlight, and the others--the others are devouring each other, or the growing ones!"

"I know. Remember, they are all in competition with each other for organic matter. Obviously, other living things are the best source of all for organic matter."

"This is most disturbing."

As they watched, the Projected beings continued to change. Some grew hard coverings over soft innards; some moved out of water onto the harsher land. Some flew, some swam, some burrowed. Some grew leathery skins and some grew hair. And some even used bones and rocks as weapons and tools, and one odd creature even learned to gather leaves and sticks and burn them to warm at night.

"You know what else I think?" said the second.

"I am almost afraid to guess."

"I think some of those last ones--I think they are aware. I think they will be able to talk to each other."

"That is completely impossible."

"You know the Rules as well as I--better than I," said the second. "Make your own Projections."

For many minutes, the first hummed and considered. Finally, it said:

"I concede that there is the bare possibility that these things might become aware--after a fashion. Might."

"But you must also concede this is a fascinating discovery," the second said.

The first said, "But why here, first, of all places? Why are they first?"

"Someone has to be first," the second replied. "You should know that better than anyone."

That was a very strange thing to say, thought the first. And the tone--almost one of bitterness and resentment.

It must come of spending so much time alone, thought the first. The second spent more time alone than anyone else. Obviously this led to strange thoughts. As well as interesting discoveries.

"We should watch them," said the second. "This is only a Projection, after all. Who knows how far they will go, in time?"

"They certainly seem to do a lot of killing," commented the first.

"Well, yes, I suppose..."

"And they all die in the end anyway. Sad, really."

"There's nothing we can do about that."

"Of course there is," the first said. "We can prevent them. Prevent much pain and suffering, too. It would be the kind thing."

"But how?" blurted the second, shocked at the idea.

"These are fragile things. Make their sun a little hotter for a few million years--that should push all the volatiles off of this rock. Or drop another big asteroid on this world and be done with it."

"But--"

"You will do this, won't you? I can count on you for this," said the first.

The second signed. "Of course."

"You have done a great thing," continued the first. "I will go now to the others and share this knowledge. All will now know the signs. We will prevent this from ever happening. Anywhere." There was a flash of light, and the first was gone.

For a long time, the second considered what the first had said, turning over and over in its mind. Finally, the second muttered to itself:

"Didn't say I had to do it now."

The second would leave them be, for now, and watch them grow--from a distance. It wouldn't do to show too much interest in this world, lest the first turn its gaze back here.

With luck they might go far, quite far, before the first looked this way again. The first might even change its mind, when it saw how far.