A Deity Walks into a Bar
“Knowing the human proclivity for embalming things,” said the deity, “I expect they will be holding services in taverns. Good for the publicans, not so good for the livers.”
The deity took a deep draft of his bitter ale. “So…?” he said.
“Your…eminence?” I began. I had no idea what the term of address for a God might be.
He waved his hand. “What you see here is an avatar. You don’t genuflect to your cell phone, do you?”
“Right… I was wondering, then, what you might wish of us.”
“Nice question,” he answered. He mused.
“I guess I would say, you too are an avatar. Don’t take it too seriously. Everyone, and everything, is.” He seemed to be searching for words. I was surprised.
“Trust,” he said, leaning back. He fixed me with an infinite eye. “Trust you have access to the script.” He lifted his flagon to the landlord, whom he seemed to know; and that worthy brought him another. “To as much script as you need. Your next lines, so to say. You all are very bright, descended from very bright primates, but there is only so much room…” he tapped his head lightly “…in the current working awareness. If you had all the story in there, you’d have no room for sports scores. So — trust in the prompter.”
It must have shown, my confusion.
“Prompter,” he repeated. “Something that shows you what is next. You know — the person in that little house in the front of the stage, who is mouthing your lines. Comes in all sorts of forms, the prompter does.’’
I said naught, trying to grasp it.
“Oh, I see, you are taking notes. You, or someone, will turn this into a dogma, an authorized version. People will read it in study groups. Other people will dispute it.”
“You know, I would have said it differently if you’d asked it in another moment. Like a tour-guide, you know.”
I had nothing to say. The teaching god pursed his lips.
“Tell you what,” said the deity, “To prevent yet another revelation, I will make you forget this. Consciously, I mean. Stuff it down in your pre-mind, the unconscious.”
There was a pork pie on the table, with a wedge missing. My glass of course. And there was a rapidly drying ring from another glass. Something had been said, by someone.
But what, exactly had been said? By someone I could … trust?
