I drifted from near the planet to be closer to the star. The star was special. It gave light and warmth to the world. It was a near perfect match to the very first star I had created all those trillions of years ago. It should have a name that embodies these thoughts.

I stared at the star and started going through all the words that I knew. Truthfully, I already knew that I didn't know a word good enough to be this star's name. What I was trying to do was see if some random word from my forgotten past would pop into my head... It has happened before. I had various different trains going in my head in the hopes that I would remember my past... Or at least some parts or aspects of it.

Sun... Light.... Sunlight... Luz... Bright... Brilliance... These are good words, but don't really fit this star... First... Alpha... This isn't actually the first star; it just looks like it... Resemblance... Twin... Doppelganger. Oh, that's an interesting word to say...

Even after repeating word after word nothing was coming to me. Some new words did pop into my head but nothing that felt right for this star's name.

Did I even need to "remember" a name? Why can't I just come up with a name for it? The only two names I know, Sun and Earth, are both only a single syllable. Are all names just one syllable?... No, that can't be right. There are only so many single syllable sounds that can be made, so there must be names with more than one syllable. Yes, that makes sense. So, I can invent my own words that can embody what the star means to me... How do I do that? Should I make a single syllable word and say that that word means all of the things that the star means to me? Or should I say that one syllable means one of the things that the star means to me and then add all of those syllables together to get a longer word?... I think the second option would be better. That way I can reuse a syllable later as part of another word to name something that also has that meaning.

Having decided on what to do, I got started. I thought of all the different things that the star meant to me. First, it resembled my first star. Second, it was perfect to support life on my world. Third, it brought me joy. Each syllable should have a single meaning so I can add it not just to the star's name, but to other words as well.

Resembles the first star. To resemble should have its own syllable because not everything will resemble my first star... Doppelganger was a neat word... Dopple... Dop... Yeah, dop can mean to resemble. First star. First can be prim. Star can be al... Dopprimal... Perfect life support. Perfect can be per. Life can be li. Support can be su.... Perlisu... Dopprimal'perlisu... Brings joy. Bring can be bri and joy can sa. Brisa. Dopprimal'perlisu'brisa... That's a big word... Doesn't really flow... Oh well, it's not like anyone else is... Wait. I'm going to be making people soon. What if they don't like the name?... Oh wait! Nicknames! I can just shorten its name to Dopprimal. That's shorter and easier to say, right? Right.

I nodded to myself. Then people can just make up their own nicknames if they don't like it.

"Your name is now Dopprimal'panlisu'brisa," I told the star, "but to keep it short, I'll call you Dopprimal."

The star pulsed with warm light. I watched as each spark of divinity in the star rippled as if accepting its new name. Each photon of light carried with it a divine spark that seemed intent on supporting life, as if fulfilling the meaning of its name...

Amazing. Is it because I created it that naming it has that effect? There isn't a way to test that though... I'll have to wait and see what people name it, and see if that name changes anything... Though that means I shouldn't tell people Dopprimal's name...

I shrugged and turned to the iron ball. Its surface was glowing white-hot from being so close to Dopprimal.

What do you mean to me?... First, the heart of the first star. Because for the first time, I had light. Second, a memento of the dead. Because I want to alway remember the death of the first star and all the stars that have died since then and all that will die in the future. I can’t just carry around all the cores of all the dead stars... and third, the beginning of all my joy. Because I learned that I could create things. The heart of the first star. Cor should mean heart for obvious reasons... should there be a syllable for the and of?... nah. So, Corprimal... a memento of the dead. Memento can be mem. Dead can be... since life is li, then dead can be il. Memil.... Corprimal’memil... the beginning of all my joy. Beginning can be... be... All isn’t really needed nor is it really true. My can just be mi. Bemisa... Corprimal’memil’bemisa.... Just Corprimal for short.

When I told the iron sphere what its name was, it had the same reaction. Each divine spark that was in the atoms that made up Corprimal rippled with acceptance and seemed to exude the qualities its name mentioned.

I turned to the next in line... the world... I’ll save that one for last. I drifted over to the purple gas planet. I didn't really have much emotional attachments to this planet other than the fact that I created it and that watching it spin and swirl around brings me joy.

Maybe, I could also describe its physical appearance in its name, not just what it means to me... no... names should be meaningful... ok, maybe I can do both. Meanings and descriptions. First, this planet is a rare purple beauty. Compared to the rest of the universe, there aren’t very many things that are purple... It also has nice swirls... Second, it brings me joy... I guess that's it. So, a rare purple beautiful planet. Four syllables... Ra. Pu. Ti. An. Raputian... Those aren’t really syllables are they? They’re just sounds... Oh well.

I turned to the purple gas planet.

“Your name is now Raputian’Brisa. Rapu for short.”

Again, the divine sparks rippled in acceptance. Rapu’s purple color deepened and its swirls grew more intricate.

I drifted back over to the world I had created. This planet was going to be the first planet in my universe that would hold life. It was going to be the home of people of all sorts. It was my hope. Hope that I won't be alone. Hope that the people I create can find joy... I hoped that people will love the world... love their home.

I took a moment to organize my thoughts.

First, the first planet with life. Already have syllables for that. Primanli. Second, the home of my people... Home can be om and people can be op. Ommiop. Primanli’ommiop. Third, it is the bringer of hope and joy. Hope can be ho. Brihosa. Primanli’ommiop’brihosa... I think its nickname should be Bri. The Bringer. It fits... and it’s only one syllable. Like Earth.

I told the planet its new name. Again, divine sparks rippled. As I watched Bri’s divinity shine, I knew that hope would never fade. People will always be able to find hope here.

This method of making names for things created some really big names... almost unwieldy names. I guess it’s fine, now that everything has a name I don’t have to use its full name. I can just use a short nickname for casual use and its full name for... for what? A formal occasion? What formal occasion would there be for a planet or star?... I couldn’t think of any such occasion. Nicknames forever! Dopprimal, Corprimal, Bri, and Rapu.

I’ve been watching Bri as I was thinking and... something looked off about the planet... was it just because I named it Primanli, the first planet with life, and it doesn’t even have life on it yet? Maybe.

The mountains are looking majestic. The plains, while they are currently grass-less, look fine and the hills are rolling... The rivers are flowing steadily and the oceans are... aren’t all that wavey... why? Wait a minute...

I slapped my forehead. I forgot about the moon! Earth’s moon is what controls the ocean tides and Bri doesn’t have a moon yet. Of course I would think something was off with the ocean... Honestly though, does Bri even need a moon? What difference would it make?... Having a moon would make the night-side of Bri brighter. Tides would be a bit more than twice as big... What else?... I can’t think of anything else... Well, not having a moon would mean that the nights would be darker and I don’t like darkness.

That settled it. I was going to make a moon. I was already next to Bri, having been floating with it along its orbit, but I leaned down to put my face right next to it.

Earth’s moon was... a third of the size of Earth? A fourth? I don’t remember... it must be somewhere between there. Let’s see here... Bri is about three times the size of Earth, so maybe its moon should be Earth-sized... ok, maybe just a tiny bit smaller. Now what should I make the moon out of? Should the moon be habitable? Sure, why not? People would eventually develop space travel. I’ll make colonizing it a bit easier for them... Space travel. For some reason that phrase seemed so familiar... but it had only just popped into my head... Did I used to do something related to space travel before I appeared in the nothingness?

Nothing else came to me. No more strange feelings or thoughts... I’ll have to continue that train later. I had a moon to build.

I held out a hand and pointed next to Bri.

“Let there be a moon,” I said, holding an image of an Earth-like rock.

The moon appeared. I poked it into motion and it fell into the orbit of Bri. The moon was pretty big for a moon... I shrugged. Everything looked like it was fine... The whole moon was barren stone. It didn’t have an atmosphere yet, nor did it have any water. That was easily fixed.

An atmosphere was quickly made. And for the water... I didn’t want any oceans. I wanted it to look like a moon, not like a planet in the sky...

I’ll just place water at its poles to freeze... If people develop space travel then they can melt their own water.

With that decided, I made the ice caps. From Bri’s surface, the moon would look like white ball with a large silver band in the middle and a faint blue-ish glow around it.

Now the moon needed a name. I could just call it the moon... that would be easier, but after seeing the effects that naming things had I couldn’t just not name the moon.

Ok. What does this moon mean to me? First, it is a light in the darkness. No one should be left completely in the dark. Light can be lu, and darkness can be ul... should “in” have its own syllable?... no, but just saying Luul... lool... kind of feels not-right. There should be some sort of break in there. Lu’ul. Yeah, that feels better. Second, it is the companion of Bri. Companion can be com. Combri. Lu’ul’combri. Third, it is a future home. Future can be fu. Fuom. Lu’ul’combri’fuom.

“Your name is now Lu’ul’combri’fuom,” I told the moon, “I’ll either just call you Lu’ul or moon just to be brief.”

The moon’s divine sparks rippled. The moon shone just a little bit brighter onto Bri.

I nodded. Everything was now properly named.

Now, I needed to create life on Bri.