The Potential of Zeroes

by Eric Mattys

  Mew responded, “Maybe.” If he was going to Hell, at least she would be there, too.

  Max overheard her complaint and interjected, “I’d be happy to break some rules with you.”

  Terese reared her head back. “Um. Who are you?”

  “My name’s Maximus. I’m an aquarius.” He winked at Terese. “Rules… are meant to be broken.” He reached his one hand out and shook hers.

  Terese rolled her eyes. “I’m Terese. I was questioning authority, but I’m not trying to break any rules with someone I don’t know or trust.”

  Max put up his hand and his stump. “Whoa. Not trying to be a Sexual Sally, just trying to find a cool prayer partner.”

  Mew put up his pointer finger. “What’s a Sexual Sally?”

  “Not important, Chief.” Max turned his gaze back to Terese. “Would you care to…” Max paused and lowered his voice. “Walk with me through the peaceful meadow?”

  Terese shook her head. “That’s a hard maybe on the prayer partner thing, but I, too, would like to know what a Sexual Sally is.”

  “It’s easy. A Sexual Sally is someone obsessed with sex. Like your typical frat bro talking to another frat bro about the hot chick they supposedly hooked up with, or a douchey guy who keeps rubbing up on you on the dance floor. Could be a girl, too. Just doesn’t happen that way very much.”

  Mew shook his head. “Why Sally?”

  Max counted on his fingers. “Sexual Sal sounds too dangerous. Sexual Steve would have a creepy moustache. Both totally different beasts. Sexual Sven…” He looked up for a second. “That doesn’t sound sexually obnoxious at all. Does it?”

  “No. Sexual Sven sounds like a very fit swimmer, with streamlined muscles, and a speedo.” Terese nodded.

  Max tipped his head as if to bow while maintaining eye contact with Terese. “As your prayer partner, I can guarantee to conjure delightful images and hilarity for the remainder of the weekend. What do you think?”

  Mew looked around at his options for other prayer partners besides Terese, but she was an island of unique vibes in a sea of suburban types. “Wait. I want to be your prayer partner, too.”

  “Listen. Here’s what we’ll do. What’s your name?” asked Terese.

  “Bartholomew.”

  Max grinned. “Man. That’s a lot of syllables. There’s no shorthand for that?”

  Flustered, Mew responded, “Yeah, there is actually. It’s Mew.”

  Max reached his hand out to pat Mew on the head. “Like a little cat. Mew. So cute.”

  Mew moved his head away from Max’s hand. “I’ve broken noses in the past when people’ve made fun of my name.”

  Max withdrew his hand. “Oh. Mew the tough guy.”

  Terese clasped her hands together. “Ok… Here’s a solution. I figure I’ll be Max’s soul partner. You can be my soul partner and then Max will be your soul partner. But let’s leave broken noses out of the equation.”

  David Baker returned to the stage and clicked on his headset microphone. “Alright. Let’s quiet down for a second. Now that we’ve chosen prayer partners, we’re going to do a little exercise.” David Baker’s voice echoed over the cheap sound system. “I want you all to think of one thing that could make your life better. It could be anything: a better relationship with a loved one, a better job, a new car, an education. One thing that would make your life better. Once you have it, I’d like you to share that thing with your prayer partner and consider ways that you might make your life better.”

  The three of them threw out timid bits of eye contact, and withdrew that contact from each other intermittently, waiting for someone to go first.

  “Okay. I’ll go,” Terese offered. “I guess my life would be better if I could not only have a relationship with God, but also have a relationship with other people who see God the same way I do. I mean, I don’t really think of God the way everyone else does. It’s come to a point now that I’m almost ashamed to say I believe in God because it seems like a turn-off… like someone who believes in fairy tales and embraces non-truths from antiquated writings. I don’t have a problem with fairy tales, but I do have a problem with people trying to make laws around them. It’s like if you say you believe in God, you’re instantly associated with fundamentalist crazies who want to take life back to the 50s. You’re a relic from the Dark Ages, theorizing about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. Something good happens; God must love me. Something bad happens; God must hate me or be teaching me a lesson. That’s bullshit. I don’t think God works on the good and bad scale. I think God is the amplification of whatever thoughts you have throughout the fabric of the Universe. The less you think, the smaller God is. So my life would be better if I could find some friends who thought along the same lines.” Terese looked over to Mew indicating that it was his turn to speak.

  “I was going to say my life would be better if I had a steady girlfriend, but after a response like that, I feel like I oughta go a little deeper.” He took a breath. “I guess it’d be nice to… feel like I was the best. When I was little, I was the best. I got the best grades. I was the best at all the sports on the playground. Especially dodgeball. I was really good at dodgeball. My teachers loved me as long as I wasn’t punching anyone in the face, which I was also the best at. I just wish that I could be the best again, even if it was only at one thing. If I had that one thing, I could make all my other inadequacies acceptable. That would make my life better. At the same time, it’s probably impossible because no one is the best for very long. Michael Jordan was the best. Now, LeBron is the best. I know I won’t be the best like them, but it’d be nice to feel like I was the best. That would probably make my life better.”

  The reverend walked around and checked to see how all the groups were doing, and he paused to hear Max’s life resolution. “I’ll tell you what. It sure would be nice to have this other arm of mine back.” He pointed to his stub in case any of them didn’t get it. “Yep. My life would be a whole lot better if I had that arm.”

  The reverend asked. “Tell me something, brother. How do you think you could accomplish this goal?”

  “They didn’t even try sewing it back on; it was mangled beyond repair.” Max laughed awkwardly in a way that made everyone within earshot uncomfortable. Mew chuckled right along with Max to ease his own discomfort. “Yep. The bones not only broke, they splintered.”

  “Now you’re just going into the past. I want you to think really hard about what it would take to get that arm of yours back.”

  “Rev? Are ya blind? My arm is gone, man. Looky here. See. It’s a stump.” Max waved the stump at the reverend. Mew ended his chuckle, and only Max continued to find the situation amusing. No one wanted to make eye contact with the waving mass. It was as if Max had stuck his arm in a pot of boiling water, and the skin at the end came to a permanent boil.

  But the reverend persisted. “Well this is good. You’ve progressed into your present situation. Now, what are you going to do in the future? What are you going to do to try and get your arm back?”

  Max stopped smiling. “Hey Rev, I’ve had a lot more time to try and find a solution to my armlessness. I haven’t come up with anything yet. If you have an answer, you should let me in on it. If you don’t, stop trying to put a happy suit on my disfigurement.”

  “I wasn’t trying to say that you aren’t trying hard enough. I was just trying to show you how there are no limits to what is possible.”

  “I’ve heard what you’re saying before and it’s really easy to tell someone else to think positive, or let go and let God, or it’s all a part of the Divine Plan, or whatever warm, fuzzy… platitude you want to pass off as wisdom. You know what really would make my life better? If I heard something from you that wasn’t bullshit you heard from somebody else.”

  Terese frowned. “You don’t have to be disresp-”

  Max continued. “Beca
use I’d like to believe like you do, like most people seem to believe here, but everything you say seems like something that I could just as easily get from one of those Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul books. I mean, how do you manage to feel good when there’s so much terrible shit going on all the time? What makes you so convinced that God exists or gives a fuck as to what happens on our little rock?”

  “Ask and you shall receive.” David Baker took a deep breath. “Here’s where I start. Something started the Big Bang and the Universe, right? Something started it. I don’t think it was just a chance event…Would you agree?”

  Max pressed his lips together. “Just because you can’t imagine the way that the Universe might’ve began doesn’t mean that some omnipotent being started it all. And even if it did, there’s zero evidence that this omnipotent being has any kind of care or concern about us little beings in our corner of the Universe.”

  “That’s plenty rational.”

  “Well thanks, Rev.”

  “The truth is that I don’t know. People will argue about it forever, and no one will definitively know because no one was there to witness the creation of the Universe or perhaps the flirt, finger-snap, or flatulence just prior to. Even if there was somebody there to witness it, would you believe them? For me, proving God’s existence is irrelevant.”

  Max pulled his head back. “Why would I bother believing in something that’s irrelevant?”

  “Just listen for a second. I don’t always disseminate this particular verbal prescription to start because most people do find comfort in the platitudes. I’m making an exception for you because I think you are more apt to understand the truth.”

  “So you lie to the dumb ones?” Mew asked.

  “Some people need to hear a platitude, like ‘God loves you.’ If they don’t have that confirmation that something loves them, they’ll never be able to accept love as real. They’ll be forever convinced that whatever it is other people are showing them is derived out of self-interest. Think of it like counting. When you start counting, you have to start with zero. It’s a placeholder. A starting point. There is no reference point for one if there is no zero. God is the zero that makes everything else count. Can you prove that zero exists? No. Can you prove that God exists? No.”

  “I disagree, Rev. Zero can be succinctly defined as any number subtracted from itself. Can you define God as succinctly?”

  “God is everything. God is evolution. God is the Universe. God is all you would have if you subtracted everything from everything else. Think of it like adding zero to any answer you find. It doesn’t change the actual value, but it’s still there.”

  Max tilted his head before uttering a distinct “Hunh.” The “n” sound came not from the tip of the tongue, but from the cutoff of air in the back of the throat. Max placed the palm of his hand on his chin and looked skyward. “I guess the problem with that is, why would I believe in something that doesn’t actually add any value to the sum?”

  “Um. It’s practical.” The reverend saw Max’s incredulous look. “’Kay. What do you do for a living, brother?”

  “I sell prosthetic devices. And don’t call me ‘brother.’ It creeps me out.”

  “Fair enough, fellow human. You’re a salesman. Do you prove a sale or do you make a sale?”

  “Make the sale, but that’s more a matter of phrasing.”

  “What I mean is, do you believe in the sale before it exists?”

  “Sure,” Max replied.

  “What happens to your sale if you don’t believe it’s possible beforehand?” Max let the reverend answer his own question. “You’re probably not going to make it, right? If you waited for the evidence of a sale before you ever tried, you’d never make the sale you were trying to prove?”

  Max frowned a little, “Mmmm. Still not happy with your analogy.”

  “If you don’t believe first, there’s no reason to try. Belief in this zero, this placeholder for belief, this God opens the mind to possibility. So… the way I see it… God is the sale. God is the zero. Wordless. If you were a baker, God would be the next cake. If you’re an engineer, God would be an improved engine because to create any of these things, you have to believe in seemingly nothing to begin. Trying to prove an idea or concept while it exists only in your mind is irrelevant. The way in which you apply your idea, concept, or belief is not at all irrelevant.”

  Max nodded, but frowned. “It’s just,” he paused, “How do you know which whimsical idea to believe in? People have been believing in far-fetched ideas for too long. Immaculate Conception. A 5,000-year-old planet. Psychic abilities. Ghosts. Demons. Sprits. Heaven. Hell. Libra. Virgo. Mohammed. Jesus. Krishna. Your placeholder allows all those people to run as far as they want with their imaginations.”

  The reverend shrugged and smirked. “If the numbers don’t add up, adding zero isn’t going to change how wrong the answer is. Nor does adding zero make it right. You can’t substitute God for observation and testing.”

  “You’re still leaving a big loophole for insane folks,” said Terese. “As soon as you say it’s okay to believe in something that’s not there, you open the door for interpretation, which is wonderful when everyone uses it. But when not everyone does, the room for interpretation leads to an open door for manipulation, and then the next door is political attachment, self-righteousness, isolated perspectives, enforced suppression of those who disagree, and inquisitions. After that, you lose the room for interpretation which, to me, is the real problem with any organized religion.”

  Mew added, “That’s what separation of church and state is for, right?”

  “Tell it to the crazies,” Max said, “who are so sure their zero is greater than any other zero.”

  David Baker smiled and put up his hand. “If you still need something more concrete, here is something we can prove: we’re all made out of the same stuff, the same carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and whatever else. Of all the atoms and molecules in the Universe, our sets of atoms get to be aware of their own existence. If you don’t see the value in all of these self-aware sets of atoms, you haven’t thought about how big and unaware the rest of the Universe appears to be. And if we’re all made up of the same stuff, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be able to relate to each other, to help each other solve problems, and confirm each other’s existence without conditions, or at least not hurt each other. I think God is just a moniker for this too often forgotten relationship between self-aware sets of atoms. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has said this, but it’s not bullshit, and it’s probably not in Chicken Soup for the Soul.”

  23

  On Vanity

  “When I’m around an ugly person, all I want to do is love them, without cause or reason, just as I would love someone who is exceedingly beautiful. And you guys know what I mean when I say love, right? Not like the romantic comedy kind of love, but the unconditional type of love like that thing where we met. The love where you’re acknowledging each other’s existence. But then, I see a terrible possibility of this ugly person attaching themselves to the first thing that offers them love, like a leech.” Max continues despite guffaws from Mew and Terese after he says “leech.” “Now, if it were just me and the ugly person, ugliness wouldn’t matter at all. It’s not like I’m going to run out of love or anything. I’ll give as much love as they want. It’s not like that, though. There’s a whole world of other people who are not so ugly and loving them might just be… better. The real tragedy comes when I think to myself that maybe by loving the ugly person, I might be repulsing the other, not-so-ugly people.”

  Terese narrows her eyes. “Why is your love based on beauty, Max?”

  “I can’t help it.” Max says suddenly exasperated. “I want to be friends with the most beautiful people. I want to mix with the finest, most beautiful lot, and the most beautiful people are a little bit vain because they probably want to
be around other beautiful people, too. Being with beautiful people confirms an individual’s beauty. I fail to love the ugly person because the friendship opportunity cost is too great. Then, I imagine the pain my failure would cause the ugly person. Imagine being an ugly person and then finding someone who really loves you and then that person turns their back on you. I just can’t handle that kind of guilt. The pressure to love the ugly person would become unbearable and eventually not very loving at all.”

  Terese shakes her head. “Everybody is beautiful. You just have to look harder sometimes.”

  Max rolls his eyes. “Ahh Terese, why don’t you write a nice letter to Hallmark. Maybe they’ll hire you, and you can start doing greeting cards for them.”

  “Fuck you, Max. People are beautiful,” Terese says.

  Max leans his head forward and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Tell it to the crazy-faced lady back there. She’ll be real happy to know she’s beautiful. And I bet if you actually did that, went and told her she was beautiful, she probably wouldn’t even believe you. She would probably think you were making fun of her or being condescending.”

  Terese shakes her head. “Who’s fault is that?”

  Max raises his eyebrows. “Not mine, which is exactly my point.”

  Terese wags her finger. “No. You act like you’re protecting the ugly, but you’re not talking about love and beauty anymore. It’s vanity. You’re worried you might look ugly because you’re next to an ugly person. Ugly by association. You’re putting a condition on your love. Must be pretty lonely.”

  Max shakes his head. “Do no harm, right?”

  Mew laughs through his nose and interjects. “You are far from a love doctor, Max”