Elohim, today consisting of Erik, Daniel, and Jane, deliberated in the darkness. “What do you think of kombucha?” asked Jane.
“I like it when it doesn’t taste too vinegary. Then it just has a nice complex flavor. Otherwise, no way,” Daniel said.
“What is kombucha?” asked Erik.
“It is a drink of fermented tea,” said Jane. “A drink teeming with life and possibilities. I’m thinking of making my own by buying a bottle from a health food store, adding sugar, and letting it sit on a dark shelf somewhere. It’s basically just what you get from yeast eating sugar, so there ought to be a few yeast cells in some storebought kombucha I can use.”
Elohim then knew conflict. “I dunno,” Daniel said. “I think that given the bottling and chilling and shipping process, there’s probably room in there for a hundred percent yeast die-off.”
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Jane said. “I will make a fine home for the yeast, and even if there is only a single cell surviving the entire storebought kombucha-making process, I am sure it will be enough.”
And lo, it was done. The spirit of God went in search of the mystical waters, and purchased a bottle of Kombucha from Mollie Stone’s, and saw that it was good. Then she said, “There needs to be some added sugar for the yeast to eat,” and it was so, and God saw that it was good. Then she said, “There needs to be a paper towel firmament instead of a lid so the whole thing can breathe,” and it was so, and God saw that it was good.
The temperature rose to a life-giving degree as God put the world on a dark shelf in her room, and a single speck of yeast stretched and woke, and saw that the world was good. And it was fruitful. And it multiplied. And because yeast is not smart enough to invent cruel hierarchical societies and nuclear weapons, but just smart enough to eat sugar and make alcohol, it lived happily ever after. Amen.