Just two left. Whew.
The obligatory “if you’re new here”: Read this first.
And the list of previous entries:
And the intro to the intro: This one is adult, I-don’t-know-what-genre, help!? it’s kinda tongue-in-cheek but serious too… a modern-day origin myth. A reinterpretation of an old tale. Maybe it sucks. Maybe I’m just tired of my own writing and would benefit from a break. There was something about it I felt worth sharing, anyway. (Shut up Heather and just share the darn thing and let them make their own judgments. Geez.) Here.
She was working in the lab when God arrived, unannounced.
She didn’t notice His Presence at first, entranced as she was by the spectacularly clear images on the screen of her new scanner: A hand-held device that allowed her to watch electric impulses dance inside her volunteer’s brain in real time. Incredible.
The volunteer himself was reading a Mathematics Today and humming cheerfully to himself. She wondered if, with the right tools, she could actually read what he was reading through the lens of his brain.
So absorbed was she in study, that she didn’t hear the door swish shut nor notice the dusty cardboard box He set on the counter. He was right behind her when she turned around, staring at the output screen in her hand.
“That’s an interesting device,” said God. “What does it do?”
“Don’t you know? I thought you were omniscient.”
God sighed. Somewhat dramatically, thought Dora. “The brightest and most curious mind in all Creation, and even you have to make that joke the first time you meet Me,” he said, and sighed again. She hadn’t known God would be such a drama queen.
In fact, He wasn’t at all what she expected, if she had expected Him at all. He did have a beard and a halo, but the beard was thin and scraggly, and His shoulders hunched. The halo was slightly askew and had more dusky brass to it than any sort of golden glow. It seemed almost as though it were rather tired of hanging there and wished it could rest for a bit. God was bald except a few grey wisps, and His face was lined and sunken and void of strong characteristics. The overall appearance was one of vague dishevelment, that of a homeless man with a dented tin of coins next to him making no real attempt to solicit donations.
Of course, that last image didn’t cross her mind at the time, because she had never seen a homeless man. But later, when she stumbled across the first one, she would see him and think, “He looks rather like God. How peculiar.”
At the moment, however, she was mostly concerned with deciding whether God would prefer tea or coffee, and whether an early afternoon Visitation called for snacks. To her relief, God just wanted to know about her equipment, and what kind of work she was doing.
At the end of the lab tour, she ventured: “So, You’re really not omniscient?”
God sighed again. There was patience in the sigh and also weariness. “I can be omniscient,” He said. “But I prefer not to be. It’s hard to explain.” His eyes wandered toward the electron microscope and back again.
Then he smiled distractedly and wandered out the door and down the street. Dora went back to her work.
She didn’t hear from God again until that night over dinner. Buried among the thirty-seven new text messages in her inbox was one from God:
“btw left my box. Dont open pls.”
“Puzzling,” she thought as she put a bite of rosemary-crusted sweet potato into her mouth. She puzzled over it in bed that night as well. She loved to puzzle over things in bed.
What was God doing in her lab this morning? Why was he so … not what she expected? How can God be forgetful? Why would He tell her not to open the box? Surely He knew she wouldn’t—it wasn’t hers to open. What was it anyway?
The next day broke with sunshine glimmering on the early-morning mist. Dora opened her eyes sleepily and smiled. Her smile broadened as she remembered that she had two particularly wonderful things to look forward to that day: In-taking three new volunteers, and further inquiry into God.
The first thing Dora did when she arrived in the lab was to test her equipment in preparation for the first volunteer’s arrival. Then she fixed coffee in her Keurig machine, and sat to review her notes from the previous day. When she pulled a stool up to the counter she saw the box.
There it was, right next to the electron microscope. Interesting. It didn’t look like much. Just beaten up cardboard, tied shut with a piece of twine–superfluous, given that it was also tightly duct-taped on all sides, ludicrously over-sealed.
On one side of the box were a child’s scrawled doodles, and words written in permanent marker the way a box of winter clothes might be marked for storage. In the middle these three words: “Do not open.” The rest of the words were unfamiliar:
“Danger,” said the box.
And: “Contains evil.”
An odd chill passed through her, a sensation as unfamiliar as the words.