CHAPTER 4
THE EPIPHANY OF MARY TWATT
Theresa wondered what being a grandmother/father to Herself would be like. Watching the universe unfold soothed a side of Her that was altered by Her greatest creation, Mankind. She was The Almighty. She shouldn’t be perplexed. Those little bags of skin were such an enigma. As God, (She hated the God word, and all the suffering manufactured in its use) She knew She should rise beyond the gamut of emotions which infected them. During times of introspection it was a hard thing to achieve.
Separately, She knew their every intention, their every hope, inclination, and susceptibility. She knew the souls, how many hosts, and their propensity for good or bad. Despite Her godly knowledge, She realized they had become greater than the sum of their parts.
In a future time they would have similar misgivings. Their own creation of artificial intelligence there would be nothing artificial about it, She thought, would threaten their very existence, as She felt they had threatened Hers. Mankind had grown beyond what was expected of it. It created gods with a whim. Gabriel’s son Jesus was testament to the fact, and he was but two-year-old.
In some way, the creation of man had become a virus, and that virus had infected Her. She could eradicate it, but to what purpose? Their absence would be too painful for even God to bear. She loved them like no God should. God should be neutral. Her children, as She had come to think of them, diluted Her Godliness.
Her thoughts went back to Jesus. She never saw it coming. How could Gabriel have disrespected his God, in such a way? It would have been so easy to wipe the angel, along with its fake god-seed out of existence. I allowed the boy to live out of guilt. Humanity has a lot to answer for, She mused. She should have seen it before it happened. Gabriel expected Her to stop him before the act.
“What the fuck am I questioning Myself for?” She asked aloud then laughed. Of all the words in all the languages of the universe, She loved this one the most, A word worthy of a God, so versatile, so fucking infectious.
She kept returning to the son of Gabriel. How his death would mobilize the children She loved so greatly, to kill in Her name, by proxy. What God would wish that? It was the main reason She never appeared to them. She was God. She needed no offerings, no prayers and definitely no sacrifices. She didn’t need recognition either. Man-made gods and prophets like Jesus, Mohammed, Smith and Hubbard were all Her. The minds of men just didn’t realize it. She thought, they all prayed to gods, moon gods, sun gods blah, blah, blah, gods. Without knowing they were praying to me, even the atheists in their own way, perpetuated the idea of me, with their absurd vocalizations of disbelief.
For some reason they needed to have a higher being guide them, or not guiding them, depending which side of the tree you fell off. She felt the latter thought poignant and chuckled as only a god could. They imbued their gods with love and systematically killed in their names, hatred, in the religious flavour of the month was rife. The irony of it allowed a wry smile to appear on a non-existent-face.
And what about Jesus Christ, She thought the foolish man doing all the wrong things, for all the right reasons. She was still trying to figure out where his surname had originated. He would break Her non-beating heart as no other human could. With all his ignominy, Jesus Christ would affect the human conscience. More than any person had, or ever could hope to do
Her mind changed tack. Mary Twatt. A precocious girl who knew she would be the Mother of God. How? How did she know? For all she the girl knew, there was another thousand just like her, waiting in the wings. Somehow that fig-picker’s daughter had decided; nope. No more prospects, just me. Now where’s the bitch of a mother-law I have to impress? And how do I convince her not to change her mind? Not that she will, thought Theresa.
“Now that’s confidence for you.” She said out loud.
“Thanks,” replied Leonardo. “I knew it wouldn’t be too enigmatic…Wait? Who said that? Hello? Who’s there?” The questions accompanied what could only be described as a pirouette, during which he noticed the hem of his robe flare out and rise up. It was shortly after this, that he designed a rotor blade for the helicopter.
“Oops!” said Theresa pulling her vocals back fifteen hundred and thirty-so years. “More control, I think,” She whispered to Herself. “Less some children of men are left unborn.”
Will I be a bitch of a mother-in-law? Once the child was born, I’ll have limited say on his upbringing. She could, and if so desired, would, make Mary’s life as unbearable as She deemed proper at any given moment. The conundrum was how could She affect the Child’s life. God help me, She begged. She saw the irony of the silent prayer before it was thought, so what! I am God, aren’t I?
She had made it so once the Child/She was born, outside influence would be disallowed. Actually She had no choice. The child could, and at times would act as God, but only in and through his present form. She as the Almighty couldn’t interfere with his life or with his actions as The Almighty. If She did, She’d probably end up smoting Her/Himself. He in turn could not interfere as God in Her grand scheme.
It amused Her how Gods were prone to the rules of paradox. It was perplexing even for Her. Still, the infection of the mankind virus had made it impossible not to want to walk amongst them, as one of their own.
Another disquieting thing reared its ugly head. Something She, as God, should have spotted had both her eyes been closed and Her cranium stuck up a donkey’s bottom. She wasn’t able to see anything but broad strokes of Her future as a human child. She could perceive the universe a billion years ahead but most of Her Own/Son’s life was hidden. It seemed He had Godly powers even before His birth…
Mary wanted to sleep in order for her meeting with The Almighty Twatt to begin. Would She be a bitch of a mother-in-law? If only she knew she had the same concern as her mother-in-law.
She would want total autonomy over her child. It would be her child. Not some God’s plaything or puppet, delivered to influence the hearts of men. She’d make that very clear to The Twatt…
“Hello, Mary,” The voice arrived slightly before Theresa did.
Mary looked around, the voice was sweet and cool. A picture of watermelon on crushed ice slipped across her imagination, just fast enough to allow her the privilege of witnessing an entrance.
The Almighty took up all the room, yet was diminutive in form. “Raise your head child; let me see you weep in my presence. Let me see you cower and beg for your very soul.”
Mary raised her head. “I’m not sure this is going to work.” She said dejectedly.
“Perhaps this will help” said Theresa. The female form morphed into the form of a twenty-something-year-old athlete (clothed, of course). “Now Mary, lift up your jaw and understand that The Almighty Twatt has a sense of humor. I don’t want you to beg. I don’t even wish to see you cry. Mary, the jaw, lift it up.”
“I’m not sure what to say, how to act. I’ve made a fool of myself already haven’t I?” She said.
“Let’s start again, shall we?” said God. “My Name is Theresa, and I my dear girl, shall be the father of your child. I shall also be your mother-in-law, father-in-law, and Husband, as well as your God but I think we can take that position as a given. If you let me, I shall also be your friend.”
“And I shall be a dutiful wife and mother” was the reply. “How will I address you?”
“I think William will suffice, unless of course you have a preference for something else? I can understand how having a husband called Theresa could be confusing, hence the body swap.” Though personally I love the idea of Billy for a name He thought.
“No. No, William will do just fine. I must admit the female/Theresa thing did throw me a bit.”
“What can I say? I’m God, I notice these things.” There was nothing forced in God’s smile.
Billy, Mary thought “Would you mind if I called you Billy? It feels less formal.”
“That’s fine, Billy it is,” He said thinking, what hat did she pull that out of?
“So, where do we begin?” Mary asked in her most astute voice. “I had so much to ask you and now I can’t dredge a single thing into existence.”
“Dredging things into existence is my job,” He quipped. “Let’s just talk and follow where it leads.”
“I asked Gabriel some questions and was told you would have the answers.”
“You lie,” was the playful riposte. “At the very least you misquote the poor thing. I think if you could recall correctly, you’d remember he’d said things like, ‘You can ask The Almighty,’ and ‘you’ll have to ask Her’,” He smiled and continued. “Never once did he say God will have the answers. Though the odds would have been in his favour had he done so, after all I am the omnipotent one am I not?”
“May we start again please,” Mary felt the interview was sliding down hill. “And this time can we just talk person to person? It’s so daunting, I guess you know I’ve never spoken to a God before, and well…I have to say, I’m not very impressed.”
“So you’re not very impressed?” He said as Godly as He could. “And it’s not ‘a God’ it’s ‘The only God.’
“Not really,” said Mary, taking the honesty is best route. “And if I’m honest, I have to say I find you a bit of a turnoff as a prospective husband.” She wondered if she had gone too far.
“FIRSTLY DESPITE WHAT THE ROMANS SAY,” His voice thundered, “THERE IS ONLY ONE GOD AND I AM IT. Secondly; the voice dropped most of the decibels. “Do you think me incapable of being whatever you desire? I don’t want some besotted woman spending more time thinking about something she could never have, i.e. the man of her finest fantasy, than she did on the upbringing of My Son.”
“Our son,” corrected Mary “and you should know me better than that.”
“That’s the trouble. I do.” He chuckled.
She visibly blushed. “I asked for that didn’t I?” She was feeling less in control than she thought she should. After all I am to be The Mother of God, aren’t I? She thought.
“Yes you are. You’re to be the mother of My Son.” The words were spoken more to soothe than inform.
“Will I be a good mother? How will I be able to control him when he gets wayward? How will I be able to keep such a secret to myself?” The questions came one after the other.
“So many questions, where were they when Gabriel needed them?” He chided. “You’ll be the best mother any child could have Mary, even The Child of God.
“As for him being wayward?” Billy shook his head. “He’s The Son of God. Sons of God do not do wayward. And how will you keep what he is secret? You already know the answer to that question. It will be your love for Him. It will give you strength enough to hide the pride you’ll carry.” He felt a need to put her at ease. Of course you won’t keep it a secret for ever but you’ll do well enough.
“I Told Gabriel I wouldn’t be able to go through with it unless I had full control over the child… well,
Not control.”
No, you mean autonomy, He thought.
“Maybe I mean more autonomous.” With this she placed her hands on her lap and let out a winsome sigh. “It’s something I’m serious about.”
My, my, such empathy, now I know why she made Gabriel uneasy. “So you don’t think the father should play a role?” His words drew her in.
“Of course I do, but you’re comparing figs to olives. You can’t be father and child at the same time,’ she admonished. “Every time you were bad you’d simply pat yourself on the back and say, well done son/thanks, dad.”
“Good point, though I would like it if you allowed me the chance or ability to give advice in times of, shall we say, consternation.” I can’t believe I’m asking her to be allowed to take part in the raising of my own child.
“You know, Billy? I can’t believe you’re asking me if you can take part in the raising of our son. Thank you. Of course you can…in times of consternation as you say.”
How does she do that? He coughed to hide His ungodly lack of comprehension.
“I would also love to have your advice from time to time. No Godly interference, mind, I must have the last say in all things.” She was adamant.
He bit the mirage of his lip as only a God can, and smiled like a loser. At least Gabriel hadn’t seen him this way.
“Hi Mary, hi Theresa wassup,” Gabriel said.
“Pardon,” Mary was confused and the silent William was embarrassed.
“Getting the better of You is she?” asked the angel with the use of telepathy, while simultaneously explaining to Mary “Wassup, it’s a contraction of what is up…Wassup.”
“What on earth is a contraction?” she countered
“Be gone, foul-smelling carrion. Be gone before you feel the wrath of a God no one gets the better of.” William’s words slammed into the angel’s head like a large boulder, which had fallen from a very high cliff.
“Sorry Mary, must dash” he said and vanished faster than he appeared.
“A contraction is a word formed by omitting or combining some of the sounds of a longer phrase. Words like don’t and ‘it’s’ are contractions. Do not, it is.” The explanation took his mind off the girl’s ability to manipulate a God.
“Silly me,” she laughed. “I thought a contraction was something to do with childbirth.”
“It’s that as well Mary and it can be very painful. Before you ask, the answer is yes. The birth of your son will be so very, very painful. Your contraction will go on and on. Did you think giving birth to a God would be a walk in the olive grove?” He taunted.
“I’m sorry to have to say this, but I think it best you know now. It will be like sliding down an extremely high blade without your knickers on. The blade will have been sharpened for sixty-three days and angled at forty-five degrees. It will stretch from here to the horizon.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “So… It won’t be all bad then?” The laughter which ensued lasted longer than He thought was proper for a God.
“Thanks for that.” He said.
“I’ve never had a God thank me before,” she admitted. The laughter had subsided enough for her to get some kind of rhythm to her breathing. “It’s a good feeling, having a God thank you.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He replied with a faux smugness, which brought the fading smile back to her face.
“Who will be my husband? And how will we get on?”
“What do you want first? The good news, or the bad?”
“Ooh. That was nasty.” She scowled. “Give me the bad news first, let’s get it over with.”
“I thought about who to choose for you and sadly, the man I chose will beat you every day of the marriage.”
“Why? Why can’t you give me a loving man?” She knew the question was moot, though she didn’t know what moot meant, but asked it all the same. I deserve better, she thought.
“How can I let you marry a man that would be good and kind? A man that would in time, take My place, that gave you advice and love enough to turn your heart from Me. How could I? Mary, the love you carry for Me is as an important part of Me choosing you, as is your pureness of spirit.”
He lifted his face and looked at her with wonder as the back of his hand caressed her cheek. “Knowing this, you still wish to proceed? Such love I have never known.” He now knew how she was capable of making angels question themselves.
“And the good news?” Her words were stifled by a small clenched fist.
“The good news is he’ll die, very early, on the second day of your marriage to be exact.”
“Why will he beat me on our wedding night? Am I not a good person?” she asked disdainfully.
“Yes you are, that’s the reason he beats you, for keeping your oath to Me. Don’t worry too much. I’ll be there to ease your pain.” He promised.
She felt his gaze as if it were a physical force exploding deep inside the essence of who she was. It was that which soothed her. Though His words Carried love and hope, she would never forget the look.
“So who is to be my betrothed? And when will the event take place?” she demanded weakly.
Billy replied matter of factly. “His name is Daemon; a soldier of Herod, one of his child killers.”
“Oh, how could you?” She blurted. The irony of His choice was not lost on her, a would-be god-killer being the father of a god. Irony didn’t make it any more palatable.
“It will be for one day.” He continued. “Before the marriage he’ll be a saint, metaphorically speaking of course.”
“And how may I ask will this romance develop? We’re from two separate worlds. What on earth would he want with me?”
Billy laughed and cocked his left eye. “I don’t know, maybe those fun-bags on your chest to start with.”
The lit candle she threw sailed across the room. “It went right through You!” Mary was transfixed
“That’s because I’m a vision. I’m real in every sense but substance.”
“Mmm,” Mary rubbed her chin between finger and thumb, emulating some future detective (minus a meerschaum pipe and magnifying glass), and she almost pulled it off. “What evidence do I have you’re real if I can’t touch you?”
“Let’s say I’m not a vision. Look at the candle, are you insane? Who did you throw it at? You’ll get locked up you will, throwing candles at apparitions.”
“Ok, so you do exist, at least I believe you do, it would be nice to touch you”
He gave her a lewd grin.
“Not like that, you pervert.” Leaning forward she gently attempted to playfully push his shoulder. “Hey, you’re solid.” She pushed again, this time a little harder. “I can’t believe it, I’ve touched God.” The pushing hand had evolved into a gripping hand. “My but you’re muscular,” she said demurely, the upper arm she was holding, became translucent as it returned to its state of non-matter. Her fingers gripped nothing. “That is certainly not being fair, one second you’re here, and then you’re not.”
“Is that a pout I see?” He asked as he stroked her cheek. “A short while ago you said I wasn’t your type.”
“You’re not; I hate muscular men with lean taught bodies.” Her face was reddening.
“You’ll love Daemon then, He’s a big fat balding lard-arse.”
For the second time during his visit they both laughed uncontrollably. “That was a good one… He’s a big fat balding lard-arse indeed.” She said wiping away the residue of her tears.
He mirrored her tear wiping and replied “Thanks. It is true by the way.” The laughter erupted again. She really doesn’t believe me. He thought.
The realization he was telling the truth hit her hard. “You can’t be serious?” Her hands flew up into the air as she paced back and forth. “You are, aren’t you? Why are you laughing, you think it amusing to pair me off with some grape-eating monster?”
“It does have a touch of the macabre, I grant you, but it’s for one night. Come on Mary, buck up. Where did that laugh of yours go? Tell ickle illiam where dat ickle waff went.” He mimicked in the most childish voice he could find.
“Oh, fuck off!” she huffed.
“Is that it? Oh, fuck off! Is that all you have?”
“Forgive me” she whispered in repentance.
“Why should you need forgiveness, Mary? You’re human. It was the human thing to say. If anyone should seek forgiveness it’s Me. After all, wasn’t I the one that made you who you are?”
“I suppose so.” was the reply. “Though I do have free choice? Don’t I?”
“Very clever, and yes you do. I on the other hand am God, and should I so desire could ‘cause your very existence to cease at any given moment in time.”
“But you won’t, will you? Not if You’ve already chosen me as the mother of Your child.”
“Humans, God, save Myself from humans!” He cried out. “You have a terrible memory. ‘And The Almighty follows all the rules’. Isn’t that what the angel said? In which case, I also have the right of free choice, as well as the ‘exception to the rule’ rule. I could choose to pick someone else anytime I wished.”
“You wouldn’t though, would you?” her cockiness was growing. “It would make you look like you weren’t God at all. It stands to reason, doesn’t it? The real God would never second-guess Himself.”
“Maybe, so how’s this? I’ve decided you don’t carry my child, you do marry the fat lard-arse and he doesn’t die for another forty two years” now I’m arguing the toss with her he thought.
“Then I would have to say God doesn’t exist. That my vision was a dream and lard-arse was brought on by a bout of my own stupidity.” She looked at him, emotions teetering on dissent. The solid form of His arm across her back drew her into His shoulder.
“I could never ever believe you didn’t exist. You are and always will be my God. I’ll do whatever you ask of me. For this obedience I ask but one thing. Should I be the child’s mother, allow me the right of motherhood. Though He would be God here on earth, allow me the duty of bringing Him up in my image and not your own.” Mary took a noticeable breath.
“That was already My intention. It would gain Me little insight if the Child were born a smaller version of Me. Imagine a mini-Me running around.”
“Why do You wish to take on human form Lord?” She asked “What could you possibly have or find in being one of us that you don’t already have, or know?”
William thought before answering…“For all My power, I can’t think of one good reason. Of all the creatures in creation, mankind is the only one which questions the reason for their existence. Other animals eat, fornicate, and kill each other as I intended.”
Mary was enthralled by the softness of his words. “And what did you intend for us, for people?”
“I know what you meant.” He chided. “I intended the same. I never actually intended you to last as long as you did, collectively speaking of course. Your race was expected to act as a food source really.” He stood up and started to pace the small room. “I gave the fore-runners of humans a little extra cunning to make up for their lack of claws and weapons.” He paused--- “They never had poison or twelve-inch teeth to protect themselves. Had no speed to talk of, had nothing at all going for them as members of the animal kingdom. They invented a rudimentary language, nothing like some of the higher beings I created, but it served them well. “Somehow the buggers never followed My Great Plan. They became the exception to the rule.”
“How do you mean?” Mary asked
“The exception to the rule allows for an anomaly to be generated within the Great Plan, in order for it to run as it should.
“You lost me at exception?” She prompted.
“Imagine a piece of paper.”
“Go on, I’m all ears.”
“Now tear a strip off one side.”
“All torn.” She said, holding up two imaginary pieces of paper.
“Good, now join them back together. Imagine for some reason the Great Plan needs one whole sheet of paper a certain size, but only has two at half the size.”
“How’s that,” she asked swinging the invisible joined up paper between finger and thumb.
“No, join them back together so they fit perfectly, so every fiber in the paper becomes as it was when it was one piece. Not two halves joined together.”
“It can’t be done, can it?”
“No it can’t, except for that one time. That one time when everything comes together so well, you realize something you created is better than what you actually intended.
“I made mankind to fill a niche on some little planet in the vastness of the universe, and ended up with a species that will one day conquer time itself. Mankind should never have been able to rule the animal kingdom. Somehow they kick-started their upper brain functions, without My help. They constructed tools, they had imagination. Imagination and creativity like no other race in the universe.”
“Really?” she said proudly.
“Humans may not be as technically advanced as most cognizant tribes on other worlds. Let’s face it; I made those tribes with an inbuilt intelligence. But Humans, what couldn’t they think! And what they could think of they could do or make, especially when it came to ways of killing.” His love was clear. “The most amazing thing about them is their need to explore, that, and their need to conquer. Soon they’ll be out there among the stars. I just hope they don’t infect the rest of the universe, well not as they’re doing on Earth.”
“Are we,” she said sadly.
“Not all of you. Given time you’ll grow and develop. Some of the greatest minds of the universe will come from mankind.” Now He was smiling. “Before I created mankind I looked at what I’d made with an unbiased eye. I erased this and that, added where necessary. Creating creation if you will; was more of a hobby than a vocation.”
“You make it sound boring, it must have given you some sense of achievement some satisfaction.”
“I’m God. How can a being that can do anything get satisfaction from doing just that? Then your lot came along and I discovered love and hate, greed and generosity. I’d invented sin.” He laughed but it was with a heavy heart.
“Normally if I made something that was flawed, I’d do it again. I had to do it a lot in the beginning. Can’t remember how many universes I made before this one. Yes I can, it’s twelve billion or so”
“What’s a billion?” she asked. “I’m sure it’s big, just not sure how big.”
“Do you know what the word million denotes? Of course you do, it’s a cardinal number ranging from one, to nine hundred and ninety nine followed by six zeros. A number with the word Billion in its structure has nine zeros following, unless of course you’re in England where the first three digits are followed by twelve zeroes.”
She put her hand in the air as though she needed a wee-wee break.
“You haven’t a clue what I’ve just said? Have you?” He mouthed.
“No.” Her head moved in the negative as his head had, only her look was that of a dullard. “Doh, I pick figs for a living.” She flopped backwards on the bed as if someone had shot her with a thunderbolt and flipped her arms outward.
He couldn’t help but laugh, “For some reason I assumed you knew what I was talking about. You don’t know what a planet is?” Her head moved from side to side. “You have no idea what species means?” Again her head moved. “And you wouldn’t know what a universe was if it bit your bum, would you?”
This time her voice accompanied the head movement. “I have no idea about most of what we’ve been discussing. It was the same with Gabriel. I just pretended to understand, sorry.” She tilted her head to one side, smiled. “So why don’t you teach me?”
“You at least know what this is, don’t you?” He was holding the spoon-of-humiliation.
“How did you get that?” she exclaimed in mock amazement.
THUNK! “So you were simply humouring Gabriel?” Thunk! And I to I don’t doubt.
“STOP DOING THAT, anyway, I thought you were God,” she laughed.
He used the spoon jackhammer-style, THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! That was very naughty of you.”
“OUCH! ALRIGHT ALREADY,” she shouted, you’re God! You can do anything.” Her fingers touched the glowing spot which had appeared on her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not my mother?”
THUNK!
“What was that for?”
“Cheek; You have far too much of it.” He advised
The spot had grown. It was now a small hard lump. “You’re enjoying this aren’t You?”
THUNK!
“Stop it! Stop it now! It’s making my eyes water.”
THUNK! “I can’t,” He said. “It’s addictive”
“GIVE ME THAT BLOODY SPOON! At least mother only hits me softly with it.” The lump was now the size of a walnut.
“Okay.” THUNK! “Oops! Couldn’t resist,” He sniggered and passed her the spoon. “For all intent and purpose, the spoon of humiliation is now the spoon of understanding. Not sure if it will work though.” His brow was furrowed as He spoke.
“And why is that? May I Ask?” The reply was tinged with sarcasm.
“Well I’ve already whacked you with it five times and you still seem as thick as pig shit.”
Like the candle before it, the spoon sailed through his appearance and landed upon the floor. “Not nice. Not nice at all.” She said turning her back to him and folding her arms.
“But it was funny…I can get the spoon again.” He said after a pause. “Look, I’m picking the spoon of sullenness up.”
GO TO HELL, she thought
“What did you just think?” He said in assumed anger. “GO TO HELL.”
“I only thought it,” she said, playing along.
“Sometimes it’s the thought that counts.”
“I suppose it is, but I know you know it wasn’t meant.”
Brushing the reply aside he took her hand in his. “Don’t be afraid.”
She felt His hand grip hers. They started to rise. I think I’m going to shit myself, she thought.
“You’ll be okay.” He reassured her.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think as they rose, up through the flat roof and into the night-sky. The ground receded slowly at first. She could see her village then the lake; Masts of small boats, swaying on the water, metronomes in the wind. I know what a metronome is, and a metaphor. She looked above to the stars, and a universe.
The softness of His voice made it all real. “You know much more than that Mary. You know all there is to know.”
Mary gushed, “I do. I do don’t I? Thank you. Thank you with all my heart.” They were far enough away to see the earth as a blue-green orb. “I can see everything and everyone. I can see to the center of it all, all the way back to the very beginning.”
“Only to the beginning of this universe,” He said “Only this one.”
“Where’s the god particle?” she asked.
He laughed “It’s not where they think it is,” nodding at a future generation of mankind. “And they won’t find it with any Hadron collider, even though it is a smart piece of kit.”
“So where is it?” She asked. “I know it’s out there.”
“Do you really?” He shook his head. “Look properly; look in to, not out to.”
“I see it, I see it.” She clapped her hands together and breathed softly into them as though whispering a prayer. “So very clever William; and You wonder why humans are the exception to the rule. You made them the exception.” Then it dawned on her. God wasn’t aware of what she’d seen. “You mean You really don’t know?”
“I’m beginning to” He said as the realization of what He had done hit Him.
“You put a piece of You in us.” She mouthed. “It’s the tiniest of particles, so small even a collider, a million times, a trillion-trillion times larger than the Hadron would never discover it.
He smiled. “I put something of Myself in everything I create. I am the ultimate artist, am I not?”
“Flippant doesn’t become you. It’s not that you put it in them, it’s where you put it in them. In all the other beings it’s in the matter of who they are. With us it’s in the imagination. In effect you gave us the imagination of a God.”
“I knew that,” He said nonchalantly, lying was easy to God
“You lie so badly,” she said, pushing his shoulder.
“It’s because I’m not used to having to lie. How could I have not have seen it? I’m God, for God’s sake.”
“I have an explanation.” She offered.
“Which is…?”
“Remember when you said ‘You couldn’t see everything Billy would do in his life, just the outcome?’ Well maybe you never saw Yourself in how we grew, the same way you can’t see how Billy grows. The god particle was hidden from you.”
“All well and good,” He said. “And it does make sense apart from one small thing. I could and can see that small piece of me in all I created. All except them that is. Why is it I can’t see Me, in them?”
“I have a theory, an analogy at least.” She bragged, loving the knowledge which filled her. “Let’s say every artist, of which you Sir are the finest--” He smiled as she bowed ballerina fashion. “--signs their works of art; the signature is plain for all to see, especially the artist. Seeing his signature gives the artist great pride.”
With pride He blew on the back of his finger-tips and rubbed them on a nonexistent coat lapel. “What can I say?”
“Most artists ignore the sin of pride as you have often done and almost always sign their work in a bid to boost their ego. Even Gods like to have their egos stroked now and again,” she mused.
“Get on with it and stop pulling tongues at Me, it’s very unbecoming.”
“Sometimes a great artist signs his work by putting his signature into the strokes of his masterpiece, Van Gogh, Da Vinci, Michelangelo to name but three from my favorite periods.”
“You don’t have a favorite period, you only had ultimate cognizance since four minutes ago.” He remonstrated.
“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve had it, does it now? I have it, and I love the renaissance of Da Vinci and Michelangelo.” Arms outstretched, Mary spun in the space she occupied. “I think Michelangelo’s depiction of Leda and the Swan and my admiration for it, carries a bucketful of irony. Don’t You?” She was openly laughing.
William was also enjoying the moment. “And what of Vincent’s art? What’s so special about his work?”
“For me post-impressionism counterbalances the renaissance perfectly, particularly Vincent’s work. I love the works from his later years the most. Some critics of the time say the arguments he had with Gauguin led him away from his impressionistic origins, but I don’t agree. You only have to look at his Wheatfield with Cypress; though the strokes were broad they were just an evolution of his earlier works.”
He put his hand up to stop her. “Maybe I should give the power of ultimate cognizance to Gabriel?”
“He’d like that.” She smiled.
“Yes he would, but I’m not sure I would. Now get on with your theory.”
“Simply this,” she continued. “With everything else the God particle is the signature. With us it’s in the stroke. We are Your greatest masterpiece. You had no need to sign Your work because You’d already put so much of yourself in it. There, all done.” Her pirouette was a little clumsy but served its purpose.
“I Like it.” he said. “I couldn’t see the wood for the trees. No wonder I love mankind. They’re all fuckin mini-me’s.”
“Oh my God I never thought of it that way” She said.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” was her reply. “The mini-me thing is so funny.”
After an eternity or two she looked at him and smiled. “I know. It’s that time. Will I remember anything?”
“Not much, snippets perhaps, crazy recollections. You’ll be able to understand me or Gabriel should we call in from time-to-time.”
“How, How is that fair? You gave me so much and now you’re going to take it back.”
He sighed. “I have to, you know that, and you know the reason why.”
“I don’t want to know the reason why.” She was sulking.
“No Mary, you just want to know everything else.
Throughout the ages men will agree that knowledge comes with a price. They will never know its price; they will only die in the passing of it.”
“I know, knowing they can’t change mortality is the cost of our knowledge, but I’ll still be alive.”
“Yes you will, to your earthly surroundings. I could never allow anyone to have the power you have now.”
It hit her like a bolt of lightning. “You can’t take it from me can you, Without My consent you can’t take back the power of God, can you? I’m God, as powerful as You. I’m Your equal.” She laughed. “Well almost your equal.”
“Touché, Miss Twatt, He said. “Now you see why I could never share it with Gabriel.”
“You shared it with Me.”
“Yes I did, didn’t I? Was I right to do so?” He asked.
She held His face gently in both hands, opening Her soul to Him. “You are My God and I love You for all mankind. All I have is Yours. All I am is Yours.”
He lowered His head to Her breast and for the first and last time, God as GOD, wept. She stroked the back of His head. “There, there, My Lord. I have You.”
“Thank You mother,” He murmured.
THE EPIPHANY OF MARY TWATT
Theresa wondered what being a grandmother/father to Herself would be like. Watching the universe unfold soothed a side of Her that was altered by Her greatest creation, Mankind. She was The Almighty. She shouldn’t be perplexed. Those little bags of skin were such an enigma. As God, (She hated the God word, and all the suffering manufactured in its use) She knew She should rise beyond the gamut of emotions which infected them. During times of introspection it was a hard thing to achieve.
Separately, She knew their every intention, their every hope, inclination, and susceptibility. She knew the souls, how many hosts, and their propensity for good or bad. Despite Her godly knowledge, She realized they had become greater than the sum of their parts.
In a future time they would have similar misgivings. Their own creation of artificial intelligence there would be nothing artificial about it, She thought, would threaten their very existence, as She felt they had threatened Hers. Mankind had grown beyond what was expected of it. It created gods with a whim. Gabriel’s son Jesus was testament to the fact, and he was but two-year-old.
In some way, the creation of man had become a virus, and that virus had infected Her. She could eradicate it, but to what purpose? Their absence would be too painful for even God to bear. She loved them like no God should. God should be neutral. Her children, as She had come to think of them, diluted Her Godliness.
Her thoughts went back to Jesus. She never saw it coming. How could Gabriel have disrespected his God, in such a way? It would have been so easy to wipe the angel, along with its fake god-seed out of existence. I allowed the boy to live out of guilt. Humanity has a lot to answer for, She mused. She should have seen it before it happened. Gabriel expected Her to stop him before the act.
“What the fuck am I questioning Myself for?” She asked aloud then laughed. Of all the words in all the languages of the universe, She loved this one the most, A word worthy of a God, so versatile, so fucking infectious.
She kept returning to the son of Gabriel. How his death would mobilize the children She loved so greatly, to kill in Her name, by proxy. What God would wish that? It was the main reason She never appeared to them. She was God. She needed no offerings, no prayers and definitely no sacrifices. She didn’t need recognition either. Man-made gods and prophets like Jesus, Mohammed, Smith and Hubbard were all Her. The minds of men just didn’t realize it. She thought, they all prayed to gods, moon gods, sun gods blah, blah, blah, gods. Without knowing they were praying to me, even the atheists in their own way, perpetuated the idea of me, with their absurd vocalizations of disbelief.
For some reason they needed to have a higher being guide them, or not guiding them, depending which side of the tree you fell off. She felt the latter thought poignant and chuckled as only a god could. They imbued their gods with love and systematically killed in their names, hatred, in the religious flavour of the month was rife. The irony of it allowed a wry smile to appear on a non-existent-face.
And what about Jesus Christ, She thought the foolish man doing all the wrong things, for all the right reasons. She was still trying to figure out where his surname had originated. He would break Her non-beating heart as no other human could. With all his ignominy, Jesus Christ would affect the human conscience. More than any person had, or ever could hope to do
Her mind changed tack. Mary Twatt. A precocious girl who knew she would be the Mother of God. How? How did she know? For all she the girl knew, there was another thousand just like her, waiting in the wings. Somehow that fig-picker’s daughter had decided; nope. No more prospects, just me. Now where’s the bitch of a mother-law I have to impress? And how do I convince her not to change her mind? Not that she will, thought Theresa.
“Now that’s confidence for you.” She said out loud.
“Thanks,” replied Leonardo. “I knew it wouldn’t be too enigmatic…Wait? Who said that? Hello? Who’s there?” The questions accompanied what could only be described as a pirouette, during which he noticed the hem of his robe flare out and rise up. It was shortly after this, that he designed a rotor blade for the helicopter.
“Oops!” said Theresa pulling her vocals back fifteen hundred and thirty-so years. “More control, I think,” She whispered to Herself. “Less some children of men are left unborn.”
Will I be a bitch of a mother-in-law? Once the child was born, I’ll have limited say on his upbringing. She could, and if so desired, would, make Mary’s life as unbearable as She deemed proper at any given moment. The conundrum was how could She affect the Child’s life. God help me, She begged. She saw the irony of the silent prayer before it was thought, so what! I am God, aren’t I?
She had made it so once the Child/She was born, outside influence would be disallowed. Actually She had no choice. The child could, and at times would act as God, but only in and through his present form. She as the Almighty couldn’t interfere with his life or with his actions as The Almighty. If She did, She’d probably end up smoting Her/Himself. He in turn could not interfere as God in Her grand scheme.
It amused Her how Gods were prone to the rules of paradox. It was perplexing even for Her. Still, the infection of the mankind virus had made it impossible not to want to walk amongst them, as one of their own.
Another disquieting thing reared its ugly head. Something She, as God, should have spotted had both her eyes been closed and Her cranium stuck up a donkey’s bottom. She wasn’t able to see anything but broad strokes of Her future as a human child. She could perceive the universe a billion years ahead but most of Her Own/Son’s life was hidden. It seemed He had Godly powers even before His birth…
Mary wanted to sleep in order for her meeting with The Almighty Twatt to begin. Would She be a bitch of a mother-in-law? If only she knew she had the same concern as her mother-in-law.
She would want total autonomy over her child. It would be her child. Not some God’s plaything or puppet, delivered to influence the hearts of men. She’d make that very clear to The Twatt…
“Hello, Mary,” The voice arrived slightly before Theresa did.
Mary looked around, the voice was sweet and cool. A picture of watermelon on crushed ice slipped across her imagination, just fast enough to allow her the privilege of witnessing an entrance.
The Almighty took up all the room, yet was diminutive in form. “Raise your head child; let me see you weep in my presence. Let me see you cower and beg for your very soul.”
Mary raised her head. “I’m not sure this is going to work.” She said dejectedly.
“Perhaps this will help” said Theresa. The female form morphed into the form of a twenty-something-year-old athlete (clothed, of course). “Now Mary, lift up your jaw and understand that The Almighty Twatt has a sense of humor. I don’t want you to beg. I don’t even wish to see you cry. Mary, the jaw, lift it up.”
“I’m not sure what to say, how to act. I’ve made a fool of myself already haven’t I?” She said.
“Let’s start again, shall we?” said God. “My Name is Theresa, and I my dear girl, shall be the father of your child. I shall also be your mother-in-law, father-in-law, and Husband, as well as your God but I think we can take that position as a given. If you let me, I shall also be your friend.”
“And I shall be a dutiful wife and mother” was the reply. “How will I address you?”
“I think William will suffice, unless of course you have a preference for something else? I can understand how having a husband called Theresa could be confusing, hence the body swap.” Though personally I love the idea of Billy for a name He thought.
“No. No, William will do just fine. I must admit the female/Theresa thing did throw me a bit.”
“What can I say? I’m God, I notice these things.” There was nothing forced in God’s smile.
Billy, Mary thought “Would you mind if I called you Billy? It feels less formal.”
“That’s fine, Billy it is,” He said thinking, what hat did she pull that out of?
“So, where do we begin?” Mary asked in her most astute voice. “I had so much to ask you and now I can’t dredge a single thing into existence.”
“Dredging things into existence is my job,” He quipped. “Let’s just talk and follow where it leads.”
“I asked Gabriel some questions and was told you would have the answers.”
“You lie,” was the playful riposte. “At the very least you misquote the poor thing. I think if you could recall correctly, you’d remember he’d said things like, ‘You can ask The Almighty,’ and ‘you’ll have to ask Her’,” He smiled and continued. “Never once did he say God will have the answers. Though the odds would have been in his favour had he done so, after all I am the omnipotent one am I not?”
“May we start again please,” Mary felt the interview was sliding down hill. “And this time can we just talk person to person? It’s so daunting, I guess you know I’ve never spoken to a God before, and well…I have to say, I’m not very impressed.”
“So you’re not very impressed?” He said as Godly as He could. “And it’s not ‘a God’ it’s ‘The only God.’
“Not really,” said Mary, taking the honesty is best route. “And if I’m honest, I have to say I find you a bit of a turnoff as a prospective husband.” She wondered if she had gone too far.
“FIRSTLY DESPITE WHAT THE ROMANS SAY,” His voice thundered, “THERE IS ONLY ONE GOD AND I AM IT. Secondly; the voice dropped most of the decibels. “Do you think me incapable of being whatever you desire? I don’t want some besotted woman spending more time thinking about something she could never have, i.e. the man of her finest fantasy, than she did on the upbringing of My Son.”
“Our son,” corrected Mary “and you should know me better than that.”
“That’s the trouble. I do.” He chuckled.
She visibly blushed. “I asked for that didn’t I?” She was feeling less in control than she thought she should. After all I am to be The Mother of God, aren’t I? She thought.
“Yes you are. You’re to be the mother of My Son.” The words were spoken more to soothe than inform.
“Will I be a good mother? How will I be able to control him when he gets wayward? How will I be able to keep such a secret to myself?” The questions came one after the other.
“So many questions, where were they when Gabriel needed them?” He chided. “You’ll be the best mother any child could have Mary, even The Child of God.
“As for him being wayward?” Billy shook his head. “He’s The Son of God. Sons of God do not do wayward. And how will you keep what he is secret? You already know the answer to that question. It will be your love for Him. It will give you strength enough to hide the pride you’ll carry.” He felt a need to put her at ease. Of course you won’t keep it a secret for ever but you’ll do well enough.
“I Told Gabriel I wouldn’t be able to go through with it unless I had full control over the child… well,
Not control.”
No, you mean autonomy, He thought.
“Maybe I mean more autonomous.” With this she placed her hands on her lap and let out a winsome sigh. “It’s something I’m serious about.”
My, my, such empathy, now I know why she made Gabriel uneasy. “So you don’t think the father should play a role?” His words drew her in.
“Of course I do, but you’re comparing figs to olives. You can’t be father and child at the same time,’ she admonished. “Every time you were bad you’d simply pat yourself on the back and say, well done son/thanks, dad.”
“Good point, though I would like it if you allowed me the chance or ability to give advice in times of, shall we say, consternation.” I can’t believe I’m asking her to be allowed to take part in the raising of my own child.
“You know, Billy? I can’t believe you’re asking me if you can take part in the raising of our son. Thank you. Of course you can…in times of consternation as you say.”
How does she do that? He coughed to hide His ungodly lack of comprehension.
“I would also love to have your advice from time to time. No Godly interference, mind, I must have the last say in all things.” She was adamant.
He bit the mirage of his lip as only a God can, and smiled like a loser. At least Gabriel hadn’t seen him this way.
“Hi Mary, hi Theresa wassup,” Gabriel said.
“Pardon,” Mary was confused and the silent William was embarrassed.
“Getting the better of You is she?” asked the angel with the use of telepathy, while simultaneously explaining to Mary “Wassup, it’s a contraction of what is up…Wassup.”
“What on earth is a contraction?” she countered
“Be gone, foul-smelling carrion. Be gone before you feel the wrath of a God no one gets the better of.” William’s words slammed into the angel’s head like a large boulder, which had fallen from a very high cliff.
“Sorry Mary, must dash” he said and vanished faster than he appeared.
“A contraction is a word formed by omitting or combining some of the sounds of a longer phrase. Words like don’t and ‘it’s’ are contractions. Do not, it is.” The explanation took his mind off the girl’s ability to manipulate a God.
“Silly me,” she laughed. “I thought a contraction was something to do with childbirth.”
“It’s that as well Mary and it can be very painful. Before you ask, the answer is yes. The birth of your son will be so very, very painful. Your contraction will go on and on. Did you think giving birth to a God would be a walk in the olive grove?” He taunted.
“I’m sorry to have to say this, but I think it best you know now. It will be like sliding down an extremely high blade without your knickers on. The blade will have been sharpened for sixty-three days and angled at forty-five degrees. It will stretch from here to the horizon.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “So… It won’t be all bad then?” The laughter which ensued lasted longer than He thought was proper for a God.
“Thanks for that.” He said.
“I’ve never had a God thank me before,” she admitted. The laughter had subsided enough for her to get some kind of rhythm to her breathing. “It’s a good feeling, having a God thank you.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He replied with a faux smugness, which brought the fading smile back to her face.
“Who will be my husband? And how will we get on?”
“What do you want first? The good news, or the bad?”
“Ooh. That was nasty.” She scowled. “Give me the bad news first, let’s get it over with.”
“I thought about who to choose for you and sadly, the man I chose will beat you every day of the marriage.”
“Why? Why can’t you give me a loving man?” She knew the question was moot, though she didn’t know what moot meant, but asked it all the same. I deserve better, she thought.
“How can I let you marry a man that would be good and kind? A man that would in time, take My place, that gave you advice and love enough to turn your heart from Me. How could I? Mary, the love you carry for Me is as an important part of Me choosing you, as is your pureness of spirit.”
He lifted his face and looked at her with wonder as the back of his hand caressed her cheek. “Knowing this, you still wish to proceed? Such love I have never known.” He now knew how she was capable of making angels question themselves.
“And the good news?” Her words were stifled by a small clenched fist.
“The good news is he’ll die, very early, on the second day of your marriage to be exact.”
“Why will he beat me on our wedding night? Am I not a good person?” she asked disdainfully.
“Yes you are, that’s the reason he beats you, for keeping your oath to Me. Don’t worry too much. I’ll be there to ease your pain.” He promised.
She felt his gaze as if it were a physical force exploding deep inside the essence of who she was. It was that which soothed her. Though His words Carried love and hope, she would never forget the look.
“So who is to be my betrothed? And when will the event take place?” she demanded weakly.
Billy replied matter of factly. “His name is Daemon; a soldier of Herod, one of his child killers.”
“Oh, how could you?” She blurted. The irony of His choice was not lost on her, a would-be god-killer being the father of a god. Irony didn’t make it any more palatable.
“It will be for one day.” He continued. “Before the marriage he’ll be a saint, metaphorically speaking of course.”
“And how may I ask will this romance develop? We’re from two separate worlds. What on earth would he want with me?”
Billy laughed and cocked his left eye. “I don’t know, maybe those fun-bags on your chest to start with.”
The lit candle she threw sailed across the room. “It went right through You!” Mary was transfixed
“That’s because I’m a vision. I’m real in every sense but substance.”
“Mmm,” Mary rubbed her chin between finger and thumb, emulating some future detective (minus a meerschaum pipe and magnifying glass), and she almost pulled it off. “What evidence do I have you’re real if I can’t touch you?”
“Let’s say I’m not a vision. Look at the candle, are you insane? Who did you throw it at? You’ll get locked up you will, throwing candles at apparitions.”
“Ok, so you do exist, at least I believe you do, it would be nice to touch you”
He gave her a lewd grin.
“Not like that, you pervert.” Leaning forward she gently attempted to playfully push his shoulder. “Hey, you’re solid.” She pushed again, this time a little harder. “I can’t believe it, I’ve touched God.” The pushing hand had evolved into a gripping hand. “My but you’re muscular,” she said demurely, the upper arm she was holding, became translucent as it returned to its state of non-matter. Her fingers gripped nothing. “That is certainly not being fair, one second you’re here, and then you’re not.”
“Is that a pout I see?” He asked as he stroked her cheek. “A short while ago you said I wasn’t your type.”
“You’re not; I hate muscular men with lean taught bodies.” Her face was reddening.
“You’ll love Daemon then, He’s a big fat balding lard-arse.”
For the second time during his visit they both laughed uncontrollably. “That was a good one… He’s a big fat balding lard-arse indeed.” She said wiping away the residue of her tears.
He mirrored her tear wiping and replied “Thanks. It is true by the way.” The laughter erupted again. She really doesn’t believe me. He thought.
The realization he was telling the truth hit her hard. “You can’t be serious?” Her hands flew up into the air as she paced back and forth. “You are, aren’t you? Why are you laughing, you think it amusing to pair me off with some grape-eating monster?”
“It does have a touch of the macabre, I grant you, but it’s for one night. Come on Mary, buck up. Where did that laugh of yours go? Tell ickle illiam where dat ickle waff went.” He mimicked in the most childish voice he could find.
“Oh, fuck off!” she huffed.
“Is that it? Oh, fuck off! Is that all you have?”
“Forgive me” she whispered in repentance.
“Why should you need forgiveness, Mary? You’re human. It was the human thing to say. If anyone should seek forgiveness it’s Me. After all, wasn’t I the one that made you who you are?”
“I suppose so.” was the reply. “Though I do have free choice? Don’t I?”
“Very clever, and yes you do. I on the other hand am God, and should I so desire could ‘cause your very existence to cease at any given moment in time.”
“But you won’t, will you? Not if You’ve already chosen me as the mother of Your child.”
“Humans, God, save Myself from humans!” He cried out. “You have a terrible memory. ‘And The Almighty follows all the rules’. Isn’t that what the angel said? In which case, I also have the right of free choice, as well as the ‘exception to the rule’ rule. I could choose to pick someone else anytime I wished.”
“You wouldn’t though, would you?” her cockiness was growing. “It would make you look like you weren’t God at all. It stands to reason, doesn’t it? The real God would never second-guess Himself.”
“Maybe, so how’s this? I’ve decided you don’t carry my child, you do marry the fat lard-arse and he doesn’t die for another forty two years” now I’m arguing the toss with her he thought.
“Then I would have to say God doesn’t exist. That my vision was a dream and lard-arse was brought on by a bout of my own stupidity.” She looked at him, emotions teetering on dissent. The solid form of His arm across her back drew her into His shoulder.
“I could never ever believe you didn’t exist. You are and always will be my God. I’ll do whatever you ask of me. For this obedience I ask but one thing. Should I be the child’s mother, allow me the right of motherhood. Though He would be God here on earth, allow me the duty of bringing Him up in my image and not your own.” Mary took a noticeable breath.
“That was already My intention. It would gain Me little insight if the Child were born a smaller version of Me. Imagine a mini-Me running around.”
“Why do You wish to take on human form Lord?” She asked “What could you possibly have or find in being one of us that you don’t already have, or know?”
William thought before answering…“For all My power, I can’t think of one good reason. Of all the creatures in creation, mankind is the only one which questions the reason for their existence. Other animals eat, fornicate, and kill each other as I intended.”
Mary was enthralled by the softness of his words. “And what did you intend for us, for people?”
“I know what you meant.” He chided. “I intended the same. I never actually intended you to last as long as you did, collectively speaking of course. Your race was expected to act as a food source really.” He stood up and started to pace the small room. “I gave the fore-runners of humans a little extra cunning to make up for their lack of claws and weapons.” He paused--- “They never had poison or twelve-inch teeth to protect themselves. Had no speed to talk of, had nothing at all going for them as members of the animal kingdom. They invented a rudimentary language, nothing like some of the higher beings I created, but it served them well. “Somehow the buggers never followed My Great Plan. They became the exception to the rule.”
“How do you mean?” Mary asked
“The exception to the rule allows for an anomaly to be generated within the Great Plan, in order for it to run as it should.
“You lost me at exception?” She prompted.
“Imagine a piece of paper.”
“Go on, I’m all ears.”
“Now tear a strip off one side.”
“All torn.” She said, holding up two imaginary pieces of paper.
“Good, now join them back together. Imagine for some reason the Great Plan needs one whole sheet of paper a certain size, but only has two at half the size.”
“How’s that,” she asked swinging the invisible joined up paper between finger and thumb.
“No, join them back together so they fit perfectly, so every fiber in the paper becomes as it was when it was one piece. Not two halves joined together.”
“It can’t be done, can it?”
“No it can’t, except for that one time. That one time when everything comes together so well, you realize something you created is better than what you actually intended.
“I made mankind to fill a niche on some little planet in the vastness of the universe, and ended up with a species that will one day conquer time itself. Mankind should never have been able to rule the animal kingdom. Somehow they kick-started their upper brain functions, without My help. They constructed tools, they had imagination. Imagination and creativity like no other race in the universe.”
“Really?” she said proudly.
“Humans may not be as technically advanced as most cognizant tribes on other worlds. Let’s face it; I made those tribes with an inbuilt intelligence. But Humans, what couldn’t they think! And what they could think of they could do or make, especially when it came to ways of killing.” His love was clear. “The most amazing thing about them is their need to explore, that, and their need to conquer. Soon they’ll be out there among the stars. I just hope they don’t infect the rest of the universe, well not as they’re doing on Earth.”
“Are we,” she said sadly.
“Not all of you. Given time you’ll grow and develop. Some of the greatest minds of the universe will come from mankind.” Now He was smiling. “Before I created mankind I looked at what I’d made with an unbiased eye. I erased this and that, added where necessary. Creating creation if you will; was more of a hobby than a vocation.”
“You make it sound boring, it must have given you some sense of achievement some satisfaction.”
“I’m God. How can a being that can do anything get satisfaction from doing just that? Then your lot came along and I discovered love and hate, greed and generosity. I’d invented sin.” He laughed but it was with a heavy heart.
“Normally if I made something that was flawed, I’d do it again. I had to do it a lot in the beginning. Can’t remember how many universes I made before this one. Yes I can, it’s twelve billion or so”
“What’s a billion?” she asked. “I’m sure it’s big, just not sure how big.”
“Do you know what the word million denotes? Of course you do, it’s a cardinal number ranging from one, to nine hundred and ninety nine followed by six zeros. A number with the word Billion in its structure has nine zeros following, unless of course you’re in England where the first three digits are followed by twelve zeroes.”
She put her hand in the air as though she needed a wee-wee break.
“You haven’t a clue what I’ve just said? Have you?” He mouthed.
“No.” Her head moved in the negative as his head had, only her look was that of a dullard. “Doh, I pick figs for a living.” She flopped backwards on the bed as if someone had shot her with a thunderbolt and flipped her arms outward.
He couldn’t help but laugh, “For some reason I assumed you knew what I was talking about. You don’t know what a planet is?” Her head moved from side to side. “You have no idea what species means?” Again her head moved. “And you wouldn’t know what a universe was if it bit your bum, would you?”
This time her voice accompanied the head movement. “I have no idea about most of what we’ve been discussing. It was the same with Gabriel. I just pretended to understand, sorry.” She tilted her head to one side, smiled. “So why don’t you teach me?”
“You at least know what this is, don’t you?” He was holding the spoon-of-humiliation.
“How did you get that?” she exclaimed in mock amazement.
THUNK! “So you were simply humouring Gabriel?” Thunk! And I to I don’t doubt.
“STOP DOING THAT, anyway, I thought you were God,” she laughed.
He used the spoon jackhammer-style, THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! That was very naughty of you.”
“OUCH! ALRIGHT ALREADY,” she shouted, you’re God! You can do anything.” Her fingers touched the glowing spot which had appeared on her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not my mother?”
THUNK!
“What was that for?”
“Cheek; You have far too much of it.” He advised
The spot had grown. It was now a small hard lump. “You’re enjoying this aren’t You?”
THUNK!
“Stop it! Stop it now! It’s making my eyes water.”
THUNK! “I can’t,” He said. “It’s addictive”
“GIVE ME THAT BLOODY SPOON! At least mother only hits me softly with it.” The lump was now the size of a walnut.
“Okay.” THUNK! “Oops! Couldn’t resist,” He sniggered and passed her the spoon. “For all intent and purpose, the spoon of humiliation is now the spoon of understanding. Not sure if it will work though.” His brow was furrowed as He spoke.
“And why is that? May I Ask?” The reply was tinged with sarcasm.
“Well I’ve already whacked you with it five times and you still seem as thick as pig shit.”
Like the candle before it, the spoon sailed through his appearance and landed upon the floor. “Not nice. Not nice at all.” She said turning her back to him and folding her arms.
“But it was funny…I can get the spoon again.” He said after a pause. “Look, I’m picking the spoon of sullenness up.”
GO TO HELL, she thought
“What did you just think?” He said in assumed anger. “GO TO HELL.”
“I only thought it,” she said, playing along.
“Sometimes it’s the thought that counts.”
“I suppose it is, but I know you know it wasn’t meant.”
Brushing the reply aside he took her hand in his. “Don’t be afraid.”
She felt His hand grip hers. They started to rise. I think I’m going to shit myself, she thought.
“You’ll be okay.” He reassured her.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think as they rose, up through the flat roof and into the night-sky. The ground receded slowly at first. She could see her village then the lake; Masts of small boats, swaying on the water, metronomes in the wind. I know what a metronome is, and a metaphor. She looked above to the stars, and a universe.
The softness of His voice made it all real. “You know much more than that Mary. You know all there is to know.”
Mary gushed, “I do. I do don’t I? Thank you. Thank you with all my heart.” They were far enough away to see the earth as a blue-green orb. “I can see everything and everyone. I can see to the center of it all, all the way back to the very beginning.”
“Only to the beginning of this universe,” He said “Only this one.”
“Where’s the god particle?” she asked.
He laughed “It’s not where they think it is,” nodding at a future generation of mankind. “And they won’t find it with any Hadron collider, even though it is a smart piece of kit.”
“So where is it?” She asked. “I know it’s out there.”
“Do you really?” He shook his head. “Look properly; look in to, not out to.”
“I see it, I see it.” She clapped her hands together and breathed softly into them as though whispering a prayer. “So very clever William; and You wonder why humans are the exception to the rule. You made them the exception.” Then it dawned on her. God wasn’t aware of what she’d seen. “You mean You really don’t know?”
“I’m beginning to” He said as the realization of what He had done hit Him.
“You put a piece of You in us.” She mouthed. “It’s the tiniest of particles, so small even a collider, a million times, a trillion-trillion times larger than the Hadron would never discover it.
He smiled. “I put something of Myself in everything I create. I am the ultimate artist, am I not?”
“Flippant doesn’t become you. It’s not that you put it in them, it’s where you put it in them. In all the other beings it’s in the matter of who they are. With us it’s in the imagination. In effect you gave us the imagination of a God.”
“I knew that,” He said nonchalantly, lying was easy to God
“You lie so badly,” she said, pushing his shoulder.
“It’s because I’m not used to having to lie. How could I have not have seen it? I’m God, for God’s sake.”
“I have an explanation.” She offered.
“Which is…?”
“Remember when you said ‘You couldn’t see everything Billy would do in his life, just the outcome?’ Well maybe you never saw Yourself in how we grew, the same way you can’t see how Billy grows. The god particle was hidden from you.”
“All well and good,” He said. “And it does make sense apart from one small thing. I could and can see that small piece of me in all I created. All except them that is. Why is it I can’t see Me, in them?”
“I have a theory, an analogy at least.” She bragged, loving the knowledge which filled her. “Let’s say every artist, of which you Sir are the finest--” He smiled as she bowed ballerina fashion. “--signs their works of art; the signature is plain for all to see, especially the artist. Seeing his signature gives the artist great pride.”
With pride He blew on the back of his finger-tips and rubbed them on a nonexistent coat lapel. “What can I say?”
“Most artists ignore the sin of pride as you have often done and almost always sign their work in a bid to boost their ego. Even Gods like to have their egos stroked now and again,” she mused.
“Get on with it and stop pulling tongues at Me, it’s very unbecoming.”
“Sometimes a great artist signs his work by putting his signature into the strokes of his masterpiece, Van Gogh, Da Vinci, Michelangelo to name but three from my favorite periods.”
“You don’t have a favorite period, you only had ultimate cognizance since four minutes ago.” He remonstrated.
“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve had it, does it now? I have it, and I love the renaissance of Da Vinci and Michelangelo.” Arms outstretched, Mary spun in the space she occupied. “I think Michelangelo’s depiction of Leda and the Swan and my admiration for it, carries a bucketful of irony. Don’t You?” She was openly laughing.
William was also enjoying the moment. “And what of Vincent’s art? What’s so special about his work?”
“For me post-impressionism counterbalances the renaissance perfectly, particularly Vincent’s work. I love the works from his later years the most. Some critics of the time say the arguments he had with Gauguin led him away from his impressionistic origins, but I don’t agree. You only have to look at his Wheatfield with Cypress; though the strokes were broad they were just an evolution of his earlier works.”
He put his hand up to stop her. “Maybe I should give the power of ultimate cognizance to Gabriel?”
“He’d like that.” She smiled.
“Yes he would, but I’m not sure I would. Now get on with your theory.”
“Simply this,” she continued. “With everything else the God particle is the signature. With us it’s in the stroke. We are Your greatest masterpiece. You had no need to sign Your work because You’d already put so much of yourself in it. There, all done.” Her pirouette was a little clumsy but served its purpose.
“I Like it.” he said. “I couldn’t see the wood for the trees. No wonder I love mankind. They’re all fuckin mini-me’s.”
“Oh my God I never thought of it that way” She said.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” was her reply. “The mini-me thing is so funny.”
After an eternity or two she looked at him and smiled. “I know. It’s that time. Will I remember anything?”
“Not much, snippets perhaps, crazy recollections. You’ll be able to understand me or Gabriel should we call in from time-to-time.”
“How, How is that fair? You gave me so much and now you’re going to take it back.”
He sighed. “I have to, you know that, and you know the reason why.”
“I don’t want to know the reason why.” She was sulking.
“No Mary, you just want to know everything else.
Throughout the ages men will agree that knowledge comes with a price. They will never know its price; they will only die in the passing of it.”
“I know, knowing they can’t change mortality is the cost of our knowledge, but I’ll still be alive.”
“Yes you will, to your earthly surroundings. I could never allow anyone to have the power you have now.”
It hit her like a bolt of lightning. “You can’t take it from me can you, Without My consent you can’t take back the power of God, can you? I’m God, as powerful as You. I’m Your equal.” She laughed. “Well almost your equal.”
“Touché, Miss Twatt, He said. “Now you see why I could never share it with Gabriel.”
“You shared it with Me.”
“Yes I did, didn’t I? Was I right to do so?” He asked.
She held His face gently in both hands, opening Her soul to Him. “You are My God and I love You for all mankind. All I have is Yours. All I am is Yours.”
He lowered His head to Her breast and for the first and last time, God as GOD, wept. She stroked the back of His head. “There, there, My Lord. I have You.”
“Thank You mother,” He murmured.
