“Of course, but if you can do it without my help, what’s the point of me being here?”
“Are you saying you don’t want to help?”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying me being here is pretty pointless if you really don’t need me.”
“You think fighting for Heaven is pointless?”
“I didn’t say that...but me being here is pointless if you can do it without me.”
“But why would I want to?”
“What?”
“If people didn’t want to fight for heaven...what’s the point in it being here?”
“But you’re God...you have the ultimate power over stuff. You’re supposed to have created everything.” The soldier paused. “Which means that you must have created this situation. Shit.”
“You’re beginning to peel the onion. You know I thought I did a rather good job with those. Aren’t they great fried?”
The major walked back inside the room, flopped down on a sumptuous chair and put his head in his hands. “I’m living a bloody metaphor. I don’t believe it.”
The Almighty stood over him. “Yes you are my friend. Yes it is a shitstorm down there where I plucked you from today. I need to know if it’s worth it. Whether redemption is possible. Who better than a flawed hero? A man well versed in both good and evil. I selected you very carefully.”
The soldier looked at him bleakly. “The future of mankind rests with me?”
“If we win I’ve decided everything changes. Everything will be different. I’ll take a hands on approach. Get involved. That I promise you.” The Almighty’s voice was deadly serious.
-------------------
It had been a challenging task, especially as he wasn’t used to dealing with ancient weapons. He’d had to call on all the history of warfare he’d ever learned. He lectured legions of immaculate angels on strategy and tactics for the coming confrontation. He showed them the essentials of combat, how to kill without hesitation and not to flinch from the horror, how to take advantage of fear and to show no mercy. He explained to them graphically the need to leave no one alive and how to feed on the glory of the kill.
The time came and the very foundations of Heaven shook to the thunder of battle. At the end the major walked onto the field of combat, well pleased with his men. It had been a triumphant rout of the enemy. Under a vivid crimson sunset he looked dispassionately at the obsceneness of the carpet of slaughtered Demons. He saw rivers of blood flowing through the feathers of dead angel’s wings. He smelled victory and it was good.
A slight cough interrupted his reveries. He turned to face God. “Pleased?” he inquired.
“Very,” was the short reply.
“Everything’s going to be different now,” stated the soldier. “You promised.”
“Oh, I always keep my promises,” God continued. “Everything is most certainly going to be different. You have helped me to a great victory today, a victory that changes everything. My enemies have finally been totally defeated. I’m really most grateful. You didn’t have to help but you did. You exercised your free will to my total satisfaction, especially with that vibrant imagination of yours.”
The major looked at him, not fully understanding his words.
His host pressed his point. “As I told you, I helped you see want you wanted to see. I hoped it would work and it did. I think it’s time for another change of perspective.” In that moment, the man with the long white beard shimmered in the major’s sight blurring his vision. When his vision cleared the Devil laughed at him. “You thought I was God. Thanks to you, I am now.”
- The End -
THE TRUTH GAME
They’d dated twice. Not even proper dates really, more like impromptu rendezvous. Even that had been a struggle. She was just so distant. Aloof, almost, but not quite. She was brilliant, certainly. Her take on the challenges that the company worked on was nothing less than revolutionary. Silicon Valley had more than its fair share of electronics geniuses. He should know; he was one of them. She was aware enough to have ascertained this about him. She knew he studiously tried to avoid ‘geekness’ but was aware enough to know that if he relaxed for even a moment, he’d forget to wear his contact lenses or cut his hair and start obsessing on obscure electronics conundrums or, even worse, comic books. She guessed he’d been lured away from MIT just in time. Now, when his counterparts were busy writing machine code late into the night or discussing infantile science fiction novels over bottles of inferior wine, she approved of the fact that he frequented the gym and tried to direct his ever-active mind to rest.
She was tall, very tall indeed and she walked with a grace that she knew he’d never seen outside of a Hollywood movie. Nobody knew quite where she had come from. The rumours were that she’d met the president of the research department at some kind of soiree. She had evidently offhandedly offered a solution to one of the company’s more obscure technical problems with a leap of logic that had him choking on his bourbon. She was hired on the spot. No questions asked and certainly no references. What she’d contributed in that brief conversation had evidently negated the need for years of research. Watching her work, the geek could believe it.
Her work patterns were odd. No doubt about it. She stared into space a lot. That in itself wasn’t unusual in their business. But what was unusual was her work area was uncluttered with notes and trial equations. It seemed she just thought about a problem for a long time then just committed it to writing. That being said, she didn’t often come up with anything but when she did, Jesus, it made the rest of the group look like kindergarten students.
She’d noticed him on day one. She noticed the fact that he tried to affect a persona with at least a modicum of personality. In fact he stood head and shoulders above his peer group literally and figuratively. She found him intelligent in his way and certainly the most interesting person in the lab, because at least he tried. In itself said something. Mind you though, even being the most interesting man in the room didn’t mean very much to her. They were pretty much all children, but, she had to try and make a life for herself which meant mixing with inferiors. It wasn’t their fault of course. She was intelligent enough not to judge them for it.
She’d selected him because she had needs, needs that had gone unsatisfied for far too long. Physically he wasn’t in bad shape; intellectually he was the very best of a bad bunch and he was a trier. In her search he was the closest she’d come to what she needed. Of course, she’d have preferred an astronaut but what girl wouldn’t? Great minds, cared for bodies and enquiring personalities. She had considered NASA but it was just too difficult to go unnoticed in that rare air. Too many practical thinkers. In Silicon Valley she could just fit in in her way and not make waves and exist as best she could.
Date three was at a restaurant selected in all good conscience by her eager date. She drank the wine offered and tried to ignore the fact it was poison. She even made a valiant attempt to look suitably awed at the fact that the animal flesh she was eating oozed blood as she plunged her fork into the steak. Trying to ignore the havoc the repast was wreaking in her system, she desperately tried to be interested in her date’s conversation. His idle wittering, though well meant, was annoying in the extreme, but she appreciated the laudable attempts he was making. He was totally transparent to her, as were all people. She felt constantly guilty about this yet she was aware she wasn’t responsible. Well, not totally responsible.
As he meandered along, in apparent earnestness about his fears about global warming, she saw and felt his compassion and sincerity. She also felt the rest of the mix. His nervousness about whether he was making the right impression, his unsureness about her feelings toward him, his efforts in not speaking too quickly and his amusing efforts to appear worldly. Underlying these tremors on the surface of his persona was a vibrant and powerful lust for her body and a keenly felt intimidation of her looks and intellect. She was surprised by none of this. As long as the quantities of
each emotion were in a healthy balance she could deal with them. A small part of her even felt a distant affection.
God, she was an enigma. Hotter than his most ambitious fantasies. He couldn’t believe his luck. He felt like a gawky child around her. He was a gawky child around her, but she seemed to overlook this. She enjoyed a distant amusement as she read his thoughts. Their conversations were challenging in the extreme, especially where work problems were concerned. She seemed to come at some of these challenges, well, so obliquely. She appeared to pluck bizarre yet revolutionary concepts out of thin air and discuss them as if they were commonplace. He had difficulty just keeping up and he was no slouch. MIT only embraced the best of the best.
She was vague about her roots. She looked almost Indian but she most certainly wasn’t. She hadn’t even told him where she went to school. It wasn’t that she didn’t answer; it was just that she seemed able to effortlessly deflect direct questions. Her accent fascinated him. Impossible to place. A precise diction, almost surgeon like its usage of the language. She, however, knew how to get information out of him. He sometimes felt when they spoke that he was being gently interrogated. He didn’t care; he was happy just being around her. She felt comforted at his acceptance and submission to the force of her presence. Her unexpected suggestion they finish the evening at his apartment was the last thing he expected. She took a modest pleasure in his surprise and gratitude
Two hours later she relished the fact that he was still marvelling at her body. It was perfect. Unnaturally perfect. She had skin so blemish less he found himself searching for imperfections. There were none. She was toned to an almost unnatural level and soft…oh so very soft. She in turn had ignored his many imperfections and lack of technique, concentrating instead on enjoying his enthusiasm and the long awaited physical release that she craved. She was compassionate enough to understand that he had done his best and it would have to do. At least she’d had a modicum of satisfaction and she was pragmatic enough to be grateful for that.
“Have you ever played the truth game?”
His question surprised her. This had come from nowhere. “What?” she said.
“The truth game,” he replied. “You’re so damn mysterious. You’ve avoided answering virtually ever question I’ve ever asked you about yourself. In the truth game we can ask each other questions but the one caveat is, you have to be totally truthful. It’s a difficult game if you play it properly, but it can be fun. And you owe me. You’ve been holding out.”
She felt his excitement at suggesting the game and the sense of daring he felt at having been bold enough to ask. Could he take it? It might be interesting to see his reaction. “OK,” she said, with a look he found impossible to fathom, “if you’re sure you’re up to it.”
“I’m up for it,” he grinned
“We’ll see.” She smiled back. “I suppose you want to go first?”
“Got it in one. Where are you from? And remember, only the truth. No avoidance or prevarication.” He leaned forward, eager for her reply.
“Madrid,” she answered.
“But you’re not Spanish, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“What are you then?” he pressed.
“That’s a good question. Are you sure you want the answer?”
“Of course. That’s what the game is all about.”
She looked at him carefully. “It’s interesting that you should call it a game. What am I? You really want to know?”
He laughed nervously. “Hey, it’s not a difficult question. I’ve only just started.”
“No,” she replied, “it’s not a difficult question. But the answer is.”
“OK, hit me. I can take it.”
She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “I am nothing you have ever even imagined.”
She felt his shock and anger at the answer. She felt his hurt at what he saw as her arrogance. She reached out with her mind and sent tendrils of soothing vibrations into his psyche. She felt his surprise as he experienced the intrusion and noted his pleasure. There was some fear, but she helped him manage it.
He felt his anger subside. He felt her inside his mind; he felt her controlling his alarm. He caught his breath. He felt out of control. Feeling this she reached further in and spoke directly to his mind and calmed him. He heard her voice in his head. Her lips weren’t moving.
“This is the truth game. This is the real truth game. I am not arrogant. I am like nothing that you have ever imagined. I am a telepath and an empath and I am alone. Can you imagine what that’s like?”
He sat mesmerised as she continued.
“Where I come from we are all telepaths and empaths. What we are doing now is as normal to me as breathing is for you. Now I am alone. I can feel and hear others, but no one feels or hears me unless I specifically direct my efforts, like I am now. If you came to where I am from you would be regarded as handicapped. In my place we all share our thoughts and emotions. There is only truth. Here is a wasteland. There is no true communication. Can you begin to understand?”
“This is the Madrid in Spain that we’re talking about?” he thought. She laughed. Really laughed. She let him feel the pleasure she took from his sardonic comment.
“Yes,” she said. “Madrid in Spain. And to answer your inevitable next few questions at once, let me ask you, have you ever had the hypothetical conversation with your colleagues, ‘If time travel exists shouldn’t we be having visitors from the future?’”
He nodded slowly.
“Well, it’s now no longer hypothetical as far as you’re concerned. I’m one of them.”
“Fuck.” His profane thought jarred her and she let him know. “You know I’m telling the truth,” she thought. “You can feel it in me.”
He sat in front of her like a rabbit caught in car headlights. “How?”
“Time travellers from the future are continually visiting the past. It’s strictly regulated of course. In my time we’re the first generation of humanity to be able to do this. Only highly trained researchers and historians are allowed to make the trip. ‘How’ is impossible to explain to you. You’d never understand the physics.” She felt his questions coming at her like a tidal wave. “’When’ I come from is a very long way in your future. We certainly don’t use the Gregorian calendar any more. Suffice to say it’s many thousand of years from now. I’m telling you this because I ‘missed’ the return bus so to speak. There was some sort of glitch and now I’m trapped here. I’m telling you because I think you’ve got the intellect to take it. In my time the human race has developed physically and intellectually. We share our thoughts and emotions continually. There is no privacy because we don’t need it. We’ve evolved beyond it.”
“But not beyond conceit and superiority I see.” His thought rocked her. “What?”
His mind exploded into hers. “I’m part of the ‘clean up’ crew. It always takes a while to identify one of your lot. I have to be sure before I make the approach, hence my cover. You’ve no idea how many of you so called ‘pioneers’ have been left behind, messing up the timeline. Luckily time is more robust than you’d imagine, and yet your infantile forays into the past cause problems beyond belief. You saw the thoughts and feelings that I wanted you to see. You have so very much to learn. I’m from your future, your very distant future, and I’m here to take you home until you hopefully all grow up!”
- The End -
PROOF
The interview hadn’t been going as planned, in fact she was nowhere near to making the progress she’d hoped or expected. People relied on her to probe and get the facts, a task that normally came to her with the ease of breathing, but not today. She didn’t consider herself cruel or unfeeling but she was prepared to be brutal in her search for the truth. She’d made heads of state take moments of pause under the onslaught of her interrogations. At the relatively youthful age of twenty-nine she had not only a huge and devoted readership but also a Pulitzer Prize in her pocket, confirmatio
n that she knew what she was doing.
She hadn’t wanted the assignment. She was more used to crossing swords with the likes of Obama or Putin as opposed to this smiling new age charlatan sat in front of her. Despite her protestations, her paper had insisted; this man had acquired millions of devotees in recent years and was clearly a social phenomenon that demanded investigation, and as she was the best, she’d been chosen. She considered this as she toyed with her ‘lucky’ pendant underneath her blouse as Bob answered one of her more acerbic questions.
“This suite?” laughed the man gesturing around. “Actually your paper booked and paid for it. It’s rather nice isn’t it? A bit gauche for my taste but, I’ve got to admit…the room service is rather good. Can I get you anything?”
She regarded him bleakly, aware that another of her questions designed to expose this man had failed. The paper could have told her, she thought bitterly. Still, as the true professional that she was, she pressed on. “You don’t look very much like a guru to me,” she snapped.
“I never said I was,” her subject responded.
“You’ve sold several million books telling people how they should live their lives and how they should think,” she snapped. “How can you know what’s best for people?”
Bobs smile didn’t move. “Have you read my books?” he asked quietly. As quick as a flash she responded. “Of course, I do my research.”
“Then you’ll know,” Bob continued, “I don’t ‘tell’ anyone anything; I merely make suggestions that people are free to acknowledge or ignore. It’s all about free will you see. My objective is to help people to achieve what they really want, and I know what that is.”
“Isn’t that arrogant presumption?” she pressed.
“Not really,” he responded. “It’s a very easy thing to know. For example, I know exactly what you want in your life.” He let the comment hang in the air. She was too professional to be drawn but Bob was unintimidated by her silence.
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