I'm sitting here in front of God, watching him intently.
It took me forever to get here, I don't mind telling you.
The bureaucracy was terrible. He says He hasn't held
audience for over a thousand years. At first, I wondered why
that was.
"Play another one?" He says in that annoying, friendly
tone.
"No" I reply, still watching his features. There has got to
be more to it than this, I can hear myself think.
"Oh" He says, and he actually looks disappointed, in a very
human kind of way. It nearly drives me insane. "You're not
angry at me, are you?" the Almighty asks, a look of bemused
apology on His so ordinary face. "I didn't do anything to
make you angry, did I?".
I maintain my sullen silence. It's been like this for quite
some time now, and in the past hour or so I've been telling
myself that this is all some sort of test. Adamant, I
observe the Creator's expression with the resolution of a
drowning man holding on to the last piece of driftwood in
sight. It betrays nothing.
We sit there in silence for two more minutes. Me, looking
straight ahead with exhaustion, beads of sweat covering my
brow; Him, staring at his fingernails, giving me a quizzical
grin every now and then, occasionally letting out the odd
cough of what sounds suspiciously like embarrassment.
"I'll just go and make us some more coffee, shall I?" He
suggests at last, getting up abruptly. The annoying,
disturbed grin never leaves his face.  I feel my curiosity
stir, despite myself. ""You don't actually need to drink,
now do you?" I ask, noting how my tone is a somewhat
accusing one. "Well, you do, right?" He replies, adding
quickly: "and besides, I can enjoy a cup of coffee, same as
the next guy. It's good coffee, mind you".
It is good coffee, but that's not what's on my mind right
now, if you take my point. And the Supreme Being in whose
image we were all created referring to "the next guy" isn't
making me feel any better.
On the table between me and God can't be found, strangely
enough, a miniature model of the universe or at least the
world and a great history book of The Things to Come, plus
perhaps a few shimmering Globes of Inner Light and
Understanding. Rather, we have a deck of cards, several
empty cups of coffee, and two one-pint mugs, now empty aside
for some foam. I don't usually drink but, as the peak of my
conscious existence, I felt this is something of a special
occasion.
I sit there for another fifteen minutes of this, wanting to
speak up. To tell God that, in certain contradiction to what
I was taught to believe, He appears to be an annoying little
man to whom I wouldn't grant a second glance if I chance met
Him on the street, and that by no means did I imagine that
in this situation I might have to ask where the bathroom
was. I phrase and rephrase, over and over, the cutting
remark I have hitherto refrained from expressing. Finally, I
let out during one of the awkward periods of silence, that I
expected to be enlightened by our discussion whereas right
now, to be frank, I don't seem to be. God seems undisturbed
by this. "What is it you want to know?" he asks, shrugging.
Though once again I might have been more appeased by a dark
muttering about what there is for man to know, some mystical
riddle or even that same response if only it were
accompanied by a knowing look, I can feel a spark of hope.
It might be as simple as that, right? The bureaucracy is
behind me, after all. Who says it has to be complicated,
from this point on? I consider my words really carefully
now. "What I would like the answer to is this," I say at
last, every word regarded with utmost care, "is mankind
supposed to achieve a higher state of being?". "Supposed?"
God replies, looking surprised, and the expression of dismay
I'm wearing must be easily visible because He quickly adds:
"I guess you can if you want to". "But, what I want to
know," I head on, persistent, "is what I am to do with my
life". There. I let it out. It all boils down to this,
doesn't it? "Surely there's some higher goal I can aspire
to...?" I add in the way of encouragement. God breathes
easy, as though he's on safer grounds here. "Oh, that's an
easy one. Plenty of things you can do with your life. Want
more beer?" He answers, smiling abominably. "No" I say
hurriedly. "Do tell me, what it is I'm supposed to do with
my life". God shrugs again. "I notice you're living in a
block with good restaurants. That's good. Good bars, too.
And there's getting laid, of course".
I stare at him dumbly. This answer could have several
meanings, some of which I am unwilling to accept. "What I
meant was, I mean, what about philosophy? Unlocking the
secrets of being and... all that?". I find I am not as
articulate under the circumstances as I might like, but
since this whole conversation wasn't exactly the highest
form of debate it seems adequate. "Sure, you can go on ahead
doing all that stuff, I suppose. I've always been strongly
in favor of getting laid, myself" He replies.
"But- but-". I gather my wits. "You created the universe,
right?". "Of course I did!" God answers. For the first time
since I arrived his voice shows a shade of annoyance. "I did
a damn good job, too. I've got my professional pride". He
squints at me. "I am God, you know" he adds as though the
point needed stressing.
"Then doesn't mankind, or at least sentient life, has some
sort of special purpose in your universe?" I prompt Him,
desperate for some kind of understandable reply. "Well, I am
giving you people a special treatment, aren't I?" He says
with, it seems, wounded prided. "I don't give audience to
just any living thing in the universe, though I suppose I
could. Isn't hanging out with you people good enough?". "But
isn't there anything we're supposed to do?" I ask. Anger
is now clear on God's mundane face. "What kind of silly
question is that? Of course there is!" he blurts out. "It's
even written down somewhere, right? Made many copies of it,
you people. 'Go forth and multiply' is how it goes, if I
remember correctly. Brighten up, man, you're not doing such
a bad job - humanity as a whole, I mean. You personally
haven't shown much result in that field, I'm afraid".
"And... Anything beyond that?" I ask, my mind on fire. I
just can't let it go. "I don't create universes by demand"
God informs me. "Come to think of it, I suppose there is
some potential there for other stuff, but if that's what I
had wanted in the first place I wouldn't have created
mankind like that, now would I? You're all the wrong
composition for that mental stuff. Best stick with what you
do best, I say".
Swaying slightly, I get up. "I'll be going now" I say, not
feeling quite all right. The cheerful glimmer in God's eye
lights once again. "Are you sure you wouldn't stay? I can
arrange us a chess board. I've never quite gotten the hang
of it, I'm afraid...".
I take a step back, my arms instinctively stretching
forward, palms open, in a warding gesture. "No no. I'm sure.
I'll just be leaving".
God makes the expression of someone who's somewhat
disappointed, but otherwise doesn't give a damn. "All right,
then. Do drop by, though. Don't be a stranger, huh?".
As I leave, I suddenly realize how late it is. It certainly
is time to turn in. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow.
It's not much of a job, admittedly, but tell me this - do I
have anything better to do?

July 25th, 2002
4:22 AM