In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was “AAARGHNONONOnoNOOOOOahCRAPcrapcrapcrap[i]CRAP![/i]”

For the universe was created. Unfortunately, the Pony had done it wrong, and so Her universe, because of a slight miscalculation of gravitational attraction, ended up… well, ending… in a Big Crunch within a matter of seconds.

So the universe was created again. Due to a mix-up in the nuclear forces, though, it remained an undifferentiated soup of subatomic particles, so nothing interesting happened unless one were seriously starved of entertainment.

The Pony looked at the Examiner, who raised an Eyebrow and wrote Something on His Clipboard.

After They’d waited six million years for the universe’s heat death, the Pony started again. And thus the universe was created, [i]again[/i] again, in a magnificent Big Bang. This time, the Pony cheated a little and resorted to inflation when the Examiner wasn’t looking.

As She watched, matter formed into complex atomic particles, fused together into powerful stars, created the higher elements and molecules, and after a mere few billion years was ready for the first stirrings of life. Self-replicating molecules gave way to organic machinery measured in nanometres, which gave way to superlatively designed bacteria, which led to an offshoot involving hypercomplex living things until, finally, they ended up with very spiritual, very loving, very conscious ponies.

The embarrassing thing was that this had all been done materially. For free.

The Pony blushed. That sounded bad for the economy, and anyway the Human claimed to have already done it. She’d lose marks for creativity.

So after this universe had met its end, She started up another one and infused it with a high magical potential. It was generally considered more sensible to get spirituality and the other stuff from magic than from matter, which after all was supposed to be the groundwork, not the main performance.

Alas, due to a failure to appreciate that magic sufficiently indulged in is indistinguishable from randomness, She ended up creating six rubber duckies, a pretzel 6,000 miles long, a rather bewildered and short-lived accountant, and a bad sitcom that refused to die even after the laugh track finally broke down.

The Examiner wrote Something on His Clipboard. He’d pursed His Lips in the universal sign of bad news.

Swallowing, the Pony went for the fifth attempt with gusto. This time, She threw the magic in and policed the universe for any signs of randomness. At least She got ponies faster. Sadly, they were a little too spiritual: prone to staring at nothing, giggling uncontrollably, going around with creepy smiles, and even treating the countless evil invasion forces as cheerful pastime, not mortal peril. Eventually, they deteriorated so much that they found enlightenment in one small fairy cake.

The Examiner [i]tutted[/i].

The Pony rubbed Her Forehead miserably. Five attempts. Five. Even the Spiny Lobster had managed it in three, and He’d had a head cold. At least, She assumed it was a head cold; His Clicking of the Pincers was a little hard to read.

She sighed. Maybe She wasn’t cut out for Creatorship after all. But She’d so wanted the Deism certificate. Deists were good enough to just make a universe and then sit back and let it get on with things. If She got the Theism certificate, She’d have to constantly monitor and intervene in Her universe, and only geeky shut-ins thought that was a good time.

Sniffling, She wiped her eyes and was astonished to see the Great White Handkerchief.

The Examiner was offering Her one. True, He did it while apparently inspecting the Ceiling, but He had extended the white fabric and waited patiently for Her to blow Her Nose damply on it.

He twisted His Divine Lips into something of a small smile. He leaned forwards. He whispered in Her Ear.

Delight rushed through Her, for She saw that it was good.

So She made her sixth and final universe. All matter, to begin with. But this time, She added just a pinch of magic.

She watched the result.

She stared at the result.

She let there be light, because She wasn’t sure She believed what She was seeing.

Bonding. Friendship. Of course! How had She not seen it before? And ponies that managed their own world. And good genuinely struggling—yet triumphing—over evil. Magnificent!

She left the Examiner’s Hall with a pass grade. She finally had her Creator’s License. But She was allowed to keep Her world, and even recorded it at nights so She could watch her favourite bits again.