Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Nick Neercassel and the Soul of Whit

Chapter 1

Whit Gibbons had died a solitary man. Nothing unusual there; as Eric Hoffer once wrote, in the end, no matter how significant or insignificant our  lives have been, we all die alone. For most of us it's the last thing we do.

At his bedside when he died sat Muriel Sparks, wife of Ezekiel (or Zeke as most people called him) Sparks. Zeke and  Whit had been best friends since childhood. Had been because Ezekiel himself had died in the autumn of the past year. Even after Ezekiel had passed away, Muriel and Whit had remained friends, visiting occasionally when Muriel brought over a home cooked meal.

Now Whit was on the verge of returning from whence he came. He said in a barely audible voice to Muriel, "I've always wanted to ask you something, Muriel."

"What's that, Whit dear?" Muriel responded with compassion, but knowing Whit as she did, she wondered if he was about to say something crazy.

"When you and Zeke first met, did sparks fly?"


Chapter 2

My name is Nick Neercassel, Theological Private Eye, i.e., I work for the Big Guy. The pay is paltry, the hours are long, but the pension plan is literally out of this world. As you may or may not know already, I get my assignments directly from above or to put it in more modern terms, via a celestial cell phone. I am constantly at the ready. This is because the Assignment Associates at Third Heaven Central are never tired, hungry or thirsty. It's always day there and they have no empathy or understanding for those of us who must do most of our work in the Darkness. I haven't had a decent vacation in over five years. It seems that Evil never takes a break.

My latest assignment began when the Celestial started playing 'A Mighty Fortress is our God'. I answered:

"Nick here."

"God morning, Nick. Hope you slept well. Did you have a good breakfast?"

Had the Associates started reading my comments? They never asked me about personal matters before.

"Yes, I microwaved an egg and put it on top of a piece of toast."

"Did you have a cup of coffee?"

"Two, as a matter of fact."

"We're so happy for you."

Did I detect a hint of sarcasm? Well, surely THC wasn't calling me just to see how I was doing.

"Do you have an assignment for me?"

"Oh, yes, we would like you to pay a visit to a Ms. Muriel Sparks, who lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico."

"That's it? Pay a visit to a woman 2000 miles away? What forever for?"

"It's the only way to get your job done."

"And what is that job?"

"You must reclaim a lost soul."


Chapter 3

The subject of lost souls has never been a popular one among the Third Heaven Elite. Most of them don't believe that a soul can be lost. As Hezekiah Rampart, Angel Extraordinaire, First Class, once said:

"The Big Guy isn't in the habit of losing things. If he were, this universe would be a real mess."

Obviously, some thinking had changed either at or near the top. Suddenly (or so it seemed to me) the term 'lost soul' was now a legitimate part of the AR (Atonal Reality). Since I'm just a hired hand dealing with the hand I'm dealt, I'll just do what any other self-respecting TPE would do: my job.

The first part of the job would be easy: drive 2000 miles to Albuquerque, New Mexico. The second part would be almost as easy: locate Ms. Muriel Sparks. But the third part: reclaim a lost soul; that was going to be tricky.

On my celestial, I googled 'Muriel Sparks, Albuquerque, New Mexico'. Up popped the following number and street: 612 Beaton Avenue.


Chapter 4

Beaton Avenue was in the southern part of town. Many of the houses had a faux Colonial Spanish look with a smallish courtyard in the front. I kind of liked the lawns. The grass was sparse on them. The people of the neighborhood lived in a dry climate and they accepted that reality.

I knocked on the front door of 612 Beaton Avenue. A silver haired lady opened it.

"Are you Ms. Sparks?"

"Yes, and who might you be?"

"Nick Neercassel, Theological Private Eye. I'm here to inquire about the late Whit Gibbons."

"Hi, Nick (she didn't ask to call me Nick, she just did), come on in."

"Don't you want some proof of who I am?"

"No, I believe you. Besides I knew you were coming."

"Oh, you did? Who told you?"

"Whit."


Chapter 5

I was back in Shagah country, so I said yes when Muriel (she had asked me to call her by her first name) offered me a cold bottle of Shagah No Pesada.

"Muriel, I'm fascinated by your remark that Whit told you I was coming."

"Well, he didn't say you specifically. He just said someone from up above would show up and ask about him."

"And you assumed he was talking about the Third Heaven?"

"Where else? I have a Kindle and for the past few years I've been reading about the adventures of you Theological Private Eyes. Good reading even when the plots are somewhat thin. Do you personally know the author of the TPE Tales?"

"We've met at book signings. TPEs sometimes attend as guests of honor."

"Would you say that the stories are accurate representations of what you TPEs do?"

"Oh, yes, if anything, the stories are even more true than the actual events."

Muriel surprised me with her response, "That's the way it goes in an Atonal Reality."


Chapter 6

I was on my second Shagah No Pesada when I confided in Muriel.

"Muriel, I've been given the toughest assignment of my career. I've been ordered to reclaim a lost soul. Problem is, I don't even know what a lost soul is."

Muriel look surprised. "I thought you theology-minded guys were all over the concept of a soul."

"Not really. Now I know in this case a soul is a human being. At least I think I do. But are we talking about someone who is now dead or is still  alive? If he or she is dead, what's the point of me finding him or her? TPE's don't do raising the dead stuff."

"I think it's safe to assume that the soul in this story is still alive."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because I think we're talking about Whit's estranged daughter."


Chapter 7

"So Whit was not always a bachelor?"

"That's a good assumption. Zeke had to tell me about it though. Whit's marriage and subsequent divorce occcured a good bit of time before Zeke and I met."

"And the product of this short-lived union was a daughter?"

"Yes. The ex-wife took the daughter with her when she left town. When the daughter became an adult she came back to try and establish a relationship with Whit."

"I'm assuming that didn't go too well."

"Too many years had passed. They found themselves to be strangers with nothing in common except a similar sense of humor and some DNA."

"And so she left?"

"And Whit was alone again."


Chapter 8

I thanked Muriel for sharing her information with me. She was a nice lady and my hope was that she would enjoy the last years of her life.

On a hunch, I drove south out of Alburquerque and then eventually west and was in a matter of hours in the state of Arizona. For some reason, I knew to get the job done I had to go to Tuscon.

Along the way I thought about the soul. Was it as the Greek philosophers thought, immortal? But what about the phrase 'your mortal soul'? And didn't the Master say don't fear someone who can kill the body, but fear someone who can kill the soul? If the soul is immortal, how can it be killed?

Now I'm mortal, subject to death, decay, and disease just like any other human being. I get marching orders from Third Heaven Central, where I strongly suspect the Assignment Associates are no longer subject to the whims of normal human existence. Maybe they were playing a joke on me. I can picture the scene: 'Hey, let's give Neercassel a job he can't do yet can't refuse. It'll be fun to watch him run around in circles for a while.' I couldn't really blame the Associates for wanting to have a little fun. I imagine it can get a little boring in Third Heaven where every day is the same as the day before and the day before that.


Chapter 9

Well, I can play that game too. I pulled out my celestial and gave THC a call.

"God Evening, Nick. What can THC do for you?"

"I'm in Tuscon and much to your chagrin, I'm getting the job done."

"That's wonderful, Nick. We knew you could do it."

"Cut it out guys. I know you've just been putting me on."

I heard laughter over the celestial.

"Sorry, Nick. Don't take it personally. We drew straws to see which TPE would be punked."

I tried to laugh good-naturedly but I'm not sure if it sounded sincere.

"Well, the joke's on you. I knew all along what you were up to."

"Sure, Nick." was their only reply and I heard more laughter before closing the connection.


Chapter 10

I suddenly realized I was hungry so I decided to try a place called Clymardan Cafe at the corner of Main and Geronimo in downtown Tuscon.

My waitress was a woman who looked to be in her middle forties. After handing me a menu, she checked on another table. Returning to my table, she took my order.

"I'll have a small ribeye, medium rare, with a baked potato and a salad."

"Anything to drink?"

"Yes, an OM (Old Mesquite)."

It was a darn good meal and the service was exceptional. I decided to leave the waitress a larger than normal tip. As I was paying the cashier, I asked her the name of my waitress. The cashier replied.

"Why, that's Brevity. She's most everybody's favorite waitress."


The End


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Nick Neercassel and the Three Omegas

Chapter 1

The Three Omegas were sitting at a booth in a pub in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. They were drinking their favorite brew, Polygamy Porter (whose motto is or should be 'Bet you can't drink just one!'), and discussing logistics for their next campaign. Omega One (the eldest of the Omegas) said:
"Where do we go from here? We've pretty much tapped out the Eastern Seaboard and we've been banned from west of the Mississippi."

Omega Jr or OJ (the youngest) replied: "How about Canada?"

Omega 1A  (the second oldest): "No way. I haven't spent six months working on my tan in Florida to lose it in three days north of the border."

OO (Omega One) took a sip from his PP, then looked thoughtful before replying, "Only one place left really."

1A and OJ waited in silence knowing that OO would soon fill in the blank.

"The Celestial City."

Chapter 2

My name is Nick Neercassel and I'm a Theological Private Eye, i.e., I work for God. The pay is meager, the hours are long, but I can't complain about the retirement benefits. They're probably the best in the business. I get my marching orders via my CCP (Celestial Cell Phone) from Third Heaven Central (THC). The latest went a little bit like the following:
"Nick here."


"God Morning, Nick. We've got an assignment for you."

"I'm listening."

"The Three Omegas are at a crossroads. They've played out all their options."

"Even the one they called 'Guerrillas for God - Living off the Land.'? I kind of liked that one. It was catchy."

"We did too and it was entertaining to watch them in action. But the same old problem cropped up. The ratios weren't working in their favor. As you know from your Gospel Fiscalology classes at the Pond of Fire Academy, to be financially solvent a pseudo-evangelist needs at least a 10.73 to 1 (cash cow supporter to pseudo-evangelist) ratio. The 'Guerillas' idea was only operating at a 4.99 to 1 ratio."

"So what exactly is my assignment?"

"Go find the Omegas and give them some advice."

"What kind of advice?"

"Give up the God business and get real jobs."

"But they won't listen."

"We know."

Chapter 3

"The Celestial City!" 1A and OJ cried out in unison. "You can't mean that, OO! Going there is literally, though not figuratively, impossible."

"Now, brothers in the Lord, think about it. We do the impossible all the time. For instance, just last week 1A wrote 24 books in one 24 hour period."


"That's true." 1A said proudly but humbly.

OO continued, "And you, OJ, how about those 6000 actual hours about the 'Real, True, Authentic, Genuine Gospel' you recorded in less than 6000 actual hours?"

"What can I say?" OJ beamed back at the other two. "Doing the impossible would appear to be what the Three Omegas are all about!"

"Now we're talking." OO raised his glass of PP, "Celestial City - here we come!"

Chapter 4

As it so happened, I was in the vicinity of the Three Omegas when the call came from THC. I had been visiting an old friend who resided in the charming Appalachian town of Paintsville, Kentucky. Using my ever reliable GPS (God Positioning System), I soon discovered that the pub the Omegas were then meeting in was only twenty-five minutes from Paintsville.


I got there in thirty. I made a five minute stop at Butcher Holler to pay homage to one of the greats of country music, Miss Loretta Lynn:


"Well I was born the coal miner's daughter in a cabin on a hill in Butcher Holler/ We were poor but we had love that's the one thing that daddy made sure of/ He shoveled coal to make a poor man's dollar..."

The pub was nothing special. I walked up to the bar and asked the bartender for an OM (Old Mountaineer). I then looked around and attempted to spot the Three Omegas. They were nowhere in sight.

I described them to the bartender. He said they had left about seven minutes earlier. (I had some explaining to do to THC. It wouldn't be easy because they were fans of Tammy Wynette).

I asked the bartender, "Did they depart in high spirits?"

He replied, "Oh, yes; both literally and figuratively."

I finished the OM and headed out the door. This assignment might turn out to be a little tougher than I had first envisioned.

Chapter 5

The Omegas had hopped into their Omegamobile (a 1967 Volkswagen van) and headed south.

"Where're we headed, OO?" OJ asked.

"Mt. Mitchell. The highest point in the Eastern United States."

"I don't remember Mt. Mitchell being officially recognized as a 'Stairway to Heaven'." IA's tone, if not outright sarcastic, was on the verge of being so.

OO smiled in response. "Oh, ye of little faith. Of course Mt. Mitchell is not a 'Stairway to Heaven'. We're just going there as a ruse to get Neercassel off our tail."

"Neercassel!", cried out OJ, "what's that TPE up to now?"

"As he would say, he's just doing his job."

"I hope you have a good plan up your sleeve, OO."

"I do."

Chapter 6

The conversation with THC had gone pretty much the way I expected. The consensus there was that Tammy Wynette's 'Stand By Your Man' was a superior country song to 'Coal Miner's Daughter.' After my goof, I wasn't in any position to argue.

Where had the Omegas gone? That was the burning question. A good TPE looks for clues anywhere he can find them. In this case, my best bet was to talk to a member of the indigenous population. Just outside the pub stood such a fellow. I addressed him. "Sir, did you happen to notice an old VW van pull out of here in the last thirty mintues?" THC had earlier sent me info on the Omegamobile.

The man, who reminded me of Moses, was chewing on some tobacco. He turned his head and spit toward a hairy dog that was snoozing beside him. The dog jumped just in time to avoid the contents of the spit.

"I reckon I did."

"Was it halcyon azure with just a tinge of mauve?"

"What?"

"Was it blue and pink?"

"I reckon."

"What direction did it go in?"

The man turned his head south and spit. This time I jumped.

Chapter 7

"Now tell us about this great plan of yours, OO." 1A spoke from the back seat as he carefully opened a bottle of his favorite medium-priced claret, Thames Chateau Embankment.

Before OO could answer, OJ shoved a glass in 1A's face. "I could use a spot of the red myself."

"Certainly, OJ. We don't want you to feel deprived. It's been at least fifteen minutes since you've had anything alcoholic."

Before an argument could ensue, OO wisely interrupted. "Now, let's not fight. We're not real brothers, just brothers in the Lord, and we're on a mission: to find the Celestial City!"

"But what about Neercassel? How do you plan to ditch him?"

At that moment, OO slowed the van down and pulled into a roadside park. "Jump out, 1A, and start walking."

1A was flabbergasted. "What's this all about, OO?"

"About a half-mile down the road there's a fruit and vegetable stand that is located at the entrance to Mt. Mitchell. Here's ten bucks. Buy some mountain apples and engage the owner in conversation. Tell him you're doing a little hiking. A couple of minutes after you get there we'll slowly pass by and turn onto the Mt. Mitchell road. Make sure you point out the 'hippie' van to the owner. It should be good for a laugh. Exactly five minutes later ask the owner a question about some fruit or vegetable. Position yourself so that when the owner answers you his back is to the entrance road. We'll make an exit onto the main highway at that point. When the van is no longer in sight, bid adieu to the fruit stand and its owner, and began walking down the road in our direction."

"And how far might that be?"

"Not far if you're lucky."

Chapter 8

I didn't have much to go on; only a general direction. I needed some help (an honest TPE is never ashamed to ask for a little help from time to time; as long we don't get too needy). I put a call into THC:
"God Afternoon, Third Heaven Central at your service."

"It's Nick."

"What do you need?"

"I want you to check the 1960's database; specifically under H."

"You mean under Hell?"

"No, under Hippie."

"Our research is much stronger on Hell but if you insist."

"Also, factor in VW Vans when you google."

"We're showing 3,201 Hippie VW vans from the 1960's that are still operable."

"Any of them halcyon azure with an improbable tinge of mauve?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, one belonged to a Mr. Jim Morrison, who apparently worked for an Southern California door manufacturer."

I told THC I needed to hang up but would call back shortly if I thought of something germane. A few minutes of concentrated thought and I made the return call.

"God Afternoon. Third Heaven Central."

"It's Nick again. I've got an idea. Can you beam a tracer to my Celestial?"

"What kind of tracer?"

"One that detects fify year old marijuana remnants combined with unleaded gasoline."

There was a brief silence. Then, "We checked with St. Thomas (of Edison). He says he can have one developed and operational in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime just start driving."

Chapter 9

The Three Omegas were re-united in the Omegamobile and headed south once again. They were traveling on the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway but gazing at mountain scenery wasn't foremost in their minds.

"I've been meaning to ask, OO, how did you know Neercassel was trying to find us?" asked 1A.

"I got a phone call from the Aztec Publishing Concern. One of their agents spotted him sight-seeing in Butcher Holler. Fortunately for us the agent was a big Loretta Lynn fan."

OJ started singing a cappella, "How mysterious are the ways of the Lord!"

OJ sang for the next hour. 1A dozed off. Finally, OO exclaimed, "Well, Brothers, here we are!"

OJ and 1A (who rubbed the sleep from his eyes) looked out the van window. On the big sign to their right were the letters: WELCOME TO THE CHEROKEE INDIAN RESERVATION.

OO spoke, "Yes sir, Brothers, it's the Cherokee Indian Reservation aka The Celestial City!"

Chapter 10

The Edison Tracer (he had patented it within the first 10 minutes of building it) worked like a charm and I found myself following a marijuana/gasoline trail. Sure, the marijuana remnants were over fifty years old but the Tracer was so finely tuned it could probably find marijuana older than seventy-five years. And that might come in handy if one of my future cases involved Willie Nelson.

The trail led to a fruit and vegetable stand at the entrance to Mt. Mitchell. The tracer indicated that the Omegas had turned into the entrance but at about 3/4 of a mile down the road the beeping stopped. I didn't know if the tracer had suddenly gone bonkers or if the Omegas had tried to pull a fast one on me. Knowing the Omegas, it was probably the latter. 

But I couldn't be sure. The smart thing was to continue up the mountain until I reached the summit. Which I did and by the time I got to the top, night had fallen. I got out of my car to look around. No sign of the Omegas. But for some reason I wasn't disappointed.

The stars were bright that night and somewhere out there in the vastness was the one place for which every human soul yearned: The True Celestial City.

The End




































Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Adventures of AG & RG: A Theological Satire of an Absolutely Long Story made Relatively Short



Chapter 1

Where the Absolute Rubber Meets the Relative Road

Our story begins a long time ago. The Absolute God (AG) was thinking he needed entertainment, a “very long movie” so to speak. To do the actual work, he created a lesser being, but only lesser relatively speaking. For this Relative God (RG) was quite competent to be an Absolute God (but not quite). The AG knew this so he said, “Son, I’m LOVE, and to fulfill my being, I have come up with a plan and it’s yours to carry out. Start by creating an infinite Universe. Only an absolutely limitless Universe is worthy of an infinite, absolute God. Next create beings like yourself, but not quite as powerful. Make 2/3 of them absolutely adore me and the other 1/3 absolutely not adore me. You’ll need them as helpers and anti-helpers. Next create human beings on the planet Earth.” “What’s a human being?” 
“Well, that’s a good question. First of all it’s not an it. It’s a he or a she.” 
“Two sexes. I think I see where you’re going with this. Reproduction, right?” 
“You got it RG.” 
“But, AG, won’t they quickly overpopulate this planet Earth?” 
“Not if they die on a regular basis.” 
“Die? What the heck is that?” the RG asked incredulously.
“To die is not to live.” The AG responded. 
“So you’re telling me to create beings that will eventually die? I’m missing the point. I thought I was creating something of a more enduring nature.” 
The AG had to suppress a laugh. “You’re not taking SIN into account.” 
The RG felt like his head was spinning off. “I’m almost afraid to ask but what is this thing called SIN?” 
“It’s a concept I’ve been toying around with but the best way to illustrate it is by example. Let’s say I tell you to blow up a planet and you refuse to do so on moral grounds. That’s a SIN.” 
“Not blowing up a planet is a SIN?” 
“Not obeying me is a SIN. Now do you see?” 
“Oh, yes.” The RG was beginning to wonder what he had gotten himself into. 
The AG continued, “Now SIN is going to cause death, destruction, misery, short selling of stocks, bigotry, racism, disease, murder, adultery, sexual inversion, predatory lending practices, frying of foods, sugar-laced carbonated drinks, delusionary cranks, bad teeth and bad breath. And that’s just the short list. So something will have to be done about it.” 
The RG had to ask: “Why don’t we just program these humans to be incapable of disobedience?” 
“Son, there’s no fun in that. No drama, no intrigue, no high adventure on the seas. You got to remember I’ve got a lot of time, I mean a lot of time to deal with. By the way, have you created time yet? Oh, well, I know you’ll get around to it. It’s just a matter of time. Ha. Ha.” 
The RG resisted rolling his eyes. “So what do we do about SIN?” 
“It’s not what we’re going to do but what you’re going to do. At some point, after a few thousand years of humans sinning all over the place, you’ll get a temporary demotion. You’ll be sent to Earth in the form of a baby (that’s a tiny human) and where you’ll age into an adult human. You'll have some tough moments, then die. After a short duration being dead, I’ll bring you back to life. “ 
The RG could hardly restrain his enthusiasm. “Just why will I be doing this?” 
The AG started to tear up: “Son, it’s because I am LOVE and I want to see my creation brought out of the dismal swamp of SIN.” 
“What’s next?” 
“It’s downhill all the way. Blow up the Earth a few more times, then finally make everything perfect. Be sure to give me credit – then step down and I’ll take my rightful place. What do you think?” 
“A beautiful plan, AG, but it’s somewhat time-consuming, to say the least. Why not just go straight to the end? I can create everybody in their final state and I can put all the correct memories in their heads. It would save a lot of time, death, suffering, pain and needless…” 
The AG interrupted the RG, “That’s a thought, Son, but you’ve got to remember I need something to pass the time – what else have I got to do? You shouldn’t complain, though, you get to do all the work.” 
The RG sighed and asked, “Well, what’s first?” 
“Why don’t we kick things off with a BANG!” 

Chapter 2


Where All Things are Almost All Relative



The AG (Absolute God) had to admit he was almost impressed (let’s face it, it’s impossible to actually impress an Absolute God). He was looking out at the vastness of the Universe the RG (Relative God) had just created. 
“I really like those comets. Lots of pizzazz, if you know what I mean; and the Horsehead Nebula, now that’s quite a sight. What made you think of that? You haven’t even created horses yet.” 
“I sort of cheated on that one,” the RG replied, “I snuck a look at one of the Univac computer programming cards.” 
The AG was almost impressed again. “Good work, Son. You’re obviously doing your homework.” 
“Speaking of that, what’s with the computer programming? It’s almost like you’re planning everything in advance. Doesn’t that take some of the excitement out of it?” asked the RG. 
The AG replied, “It does but I really have no choice in the matter. After all, I’m omniscient.” 
“So what are you getting out of all this if you already know, think, feel, experience, etc. all that there was, is, and will be?” The RG couldn’t believe he had actually asked the question. 
The AG took a few moments to reply. “Son, you keep forgetting. I’m LOVE and LOVE demands that I do things for LOVE.” 
The RG wasn’t really sure if that reply answered his question, but he was smart enough not to pursue it any further. Instead he asked, “How about these slightly lesser beings that I created? What’s their purpose?” 
“Simply put, they’re Programming Enhancers (PEs). Once every blue moon the program gets clogged up or some other impediment crops up. When it happens, all hell has the potential of breaking loose. For instance, about 13 billion years from now, Satan will be delayed in getting to Earth and tempting Eve. To make sure that he isn’t delayed too long and the temptation takes place as scheduled, one of Satan’s lieutenants will take his place in the Andromeda Galaxy so Satan can get to Earth on time. Trust me, you’ll be glad to have them at your disposal.” 
“Even the bad ones?” 
“You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.” 
***
Yet another concern popped up in the RG’s mind. He asked, “Now if I’m understanding correctly, you are pretty much the Executive Producer and Writer while I’m the Director working with the script…” Before the RG could finish his thought, the AG interrupted… 
“You’re getting it. Remember what Will will say someday, “All the World’s a Stage.” 
“I like that” the RG said, “but to continue with my thought cum question, I also seem to be the star, after you, of course, of this production. If that’s the case, what I do need to do to get prepared for my role?” 
The AG shot back, “Take acting lessons.” 
“You’re right, of course,” the RG responded, “or how else can I show genuine emotion? Why in the world should I get mad at someone for screwing up if it was planned all along? After all, he’s only doing what he was meant to do. It’s not like he has a choice in the matter.” 
“How true,” the AG replied, then added, “and you’ll find that good acting techniques are essential to your role.” 
“Should I use method acting or some technique more naturalistic?” 
“Natural ain’t going to work. Some of this stuff is so contrived even I am having a hard time swallowing it. And it’s my plan!” 
***
The Absolute as it Relates to Relative and the Relative as it Relates to Absolute Seminal Seminar was nearing its conclusion. The RG spoke up, 
“What about this Satan fellow? Sounds like he’s a little more important than the other SLBs (Slightly Lesser Beings). What gives?” 
“Well, Son, he is. In fact, as power and influence goes, he’s third in line. You’ll find his hand in about every cookie jar out there and usually it’s there to steal the cookies.” 
“Sounds like a real devil.” 
“Devil? I like that description. Now that I think of it, I bet that’s where the phrase “devil’s in the details” will come from.” 
“He does seem to be a rather active fellow. But let me ask you this. Since everything is planned out, what do I do? Do things happen automatically or do I have to get intimately involved from time to time?” 
“Yes and yes.” The AG enigmatically replied. “Most things are like a boulder rolling down a steep hill. Once started, the ending is pretty much guaranteed. But there are exceptions to the rule.” 
The RG didn’t like where the conversation was going. “What do you mean?” 
“Well,” the AG replied, “think of the Big Picture as Point A to Point Z, with A as the Beginning and Z as the End. Embedded in the Big Picture are billions upon billions of little pictures, i.e., sub-point As to sub-point Zs.” 
“Can you be more concrete?” 
“You betcha. Take for example, Judas, the guy who’ll betray you when you get that demotion. Let’s say in the Judas timeline you have a sub-point (sp) H27, 692, which is the sp when Judas betrays you for thirty pieces of silver. Now let’s go back to sp G19, 543 (in Judas’ s timeline) where Judas is performing one of life’s mundane functions in the outhouse. At that moment, there’s a temporary malfunction (due to cosmic dust or whatever) in the EIPTTMD (Everything Is Planned To The Minutest Detail) program and a sudden storm erupts with devastating wind and topples the outhouse killing Judas. And when that happens the whole plan goes to hell in a hand basket. No substitute betrayer is ready to take over Judas’ role because the plan was considered perfect and an unexpected malfunction was not in the plan. But something has to be done because if sp H27,692 doesn’t take place then in the Big Picture of things even Point Z becomes dubious. And since Point Z is when I get all the glory due to me being LOVE, I wouldn’t be feeling too kindly about things, if you know I mean. And I think you do.” 
As it seemed to be happening more and more often, the RG’s head was spinning. “So what do I do?” 
The AG smiled invisibly. “Simple. Assign a friendly-to-us SLB to protect Judas at all times. Son, I see you still got a lot to learn. But that’s why I’m here.” 



Chapter 3

Where All Creators are not Created Equal

About a billion years have passed and since there are at least another 12 billion years or so before Adam and Eve are created, the AG and RG find that they have plenty of time to talk things out. 
The RG speaks first, “What’s with the Univac? You don’t really need it, do you? After all, you have infinite brain power and infinite ability to utilize it.” 
The AG replied, “I wondered when you were going to figure that out.” 
“There you go again. You didn’t really wonder. You knew all along when I was going to, as you say, ‘figure it out’”. 
“Yep, and I also knew when you were going to know that I knew it.” 
The RG groaned. He didn’t want to go down that road again. “I’ve still got a headache from our last conservation six thousand years ago. But answer this question, and simply, if you can. What’s the Univac for if you don’t really need it?” 
“It’s a learning tool for you. Since I’m 100% Spirit and I don’t actually have a brain that you can analyze and gather data from, I thought a Univac would teach you some valuable lessons.” 
“Such as?” 
“Such as the ‘The Three Laws of Being a Creator’.” 
The RG was fascinated by this latest arcane bit of information. “What are they?” 
“Law # 1 and you’ll thank me one day for this one: Never create a being more powerful than yourself. 
“Law # 2: Install within your created beings the crazy notion that they actually have free will. Of course, the really, really smart ones will figure out they don’t have free will. 
“Law # 3: If you must use Dijon mustard, use only Grey Poupon. Especially at celestial tailgating parties convened to watch SuperNova explosions. 
“Now, Son, I think that’s enough conversation for now. Let’s talk again in 27,000 years. How about the Orion Constellation this time?” 



Chapter 4

Where Armageddon Never Comes
 
It was raining outside the old gas station at the corner of Main and Elm. It had been raining all morning and no relief was in sight. It was a dreary day filled with sad memories and even Goober had to admit he wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as usual. He was seriously considering putting up the ‘Gone Fishin’ sign and moseying over to Floyd’s Barber Shop for a rousing game of checkers. 
Just then the lightning cracked, the thunder roared, the wind howled, and the screen door almost went flying off its hinges. Goober reacted instantly by scurrying behind the front counter where he crouched in fearful anticipation of Armageddon. 
Armageddon never happened. Instead, the rain stopped, and the sun broke through the clouds. Birds started singing, squirrels began running to and fro, and butterflies dared to venture out among the flowers. The air was fresh and redolent with formerly burnt grass being resurrected from the throes of death. Brown began turning to green and the grey became blue. A rainbow could be seen on the eastern horizon. 
Goober had a problem though. He had been ready to close up the store and go over to Floyd’s to play checkers. Now he had no excuse and it looked like he had no choice but to keep the gas station open. What should he do? 
*** 
“Attention! Class.” The RG shouted out to the throng of mixed SLBs. “We’re flagging, people. Sure, it’s been 57,650 straight hours of situation comedy seminar, but remember, we’re superior beings.” 
A voice came out of the crowd. “We need a break, RG, our wings are drooping.” 
The RG responded, “OK, OK, but let’s finish this particular scenario first and we’ll take a good 1000 year break. I promise. Now, who can tell me what situation Goober is facing?” 
A voice came booming across the light year long room. “A moral dilemma.” 
“Good answer, Satan.” 
“Call me Luke.” 
“You’re jumping the gun, again, Satan. We know you want to play the role of Lucifer, son of the morning star, who comes falling down to earth in a blaze of glory, blah, blah, blah. We know you want to do it, and we’ll consider it, but don’t push it.” 
Gabriel, a ‘good’ SLB spoke up. “Why do we have to attend classes with the ‘bad’ SLBs? Don’t you think they might have a bad influence on us?” 
“Not really,” the RG said, “Remember, you’re programmed to be good and they’re programmed to be bad. Besides, if I were to separate you, I’d have to give every seminar twice, and while time is infinite, my patience is not.” 
Then Satan added, “Yea guys, we’re a team. Every good deed deserves a bad one in return. Ha,ha,ha,ha…” The laugh echoed through the Sirius sector of the galaxy. 
Gabe said, “You need to work on that laugh; not nearly diabolical enough.” 
Another Good SLB, Michael, then asked, “Who’s this Goober fellow? Sounds like a real loser.” 
“He’s a supporting character in a situation comedy that will debut in the mid- 20th Century on Earth.” The RG responded. 
“Will it be popular?” 
“So popular it will go on in reruns for eternity.” 
The whole class collectively groaned. 
The RG knew it was time to take that break. “OK, be back in exactly 1000 years and we’ll wrap up this seminar and start a new one.” 
As the SLBs started to leave the RG shouted out, “And please… be careful out there!” 


Chapter 5
 
Where the Star is the Seminar
 
“How are those seminars going?” 
“As if you didn’t know; but just to play along, I’ll pretend we’re having a conversation where one of the participants doesn’t know everything that’s about to said.” 
“Now you’re talking. The play’s the thing.” 
“Frankly, the seminars are getting a little stale. I’m having trouble explaining the concept of WR (Whole Reality). The SLBs want to keep trying to distinguish between the real and the non-real. They can’t believe that everything is real and nothing is non-real. For them some things shouldn’t be real but you can’t have it both ways in a deterministic universe. Everything is real. Has to be or the thing just doesn’t work. So because they can’t fathom the concept, they tend to lose interest and I have trouble holding their attention. I don’t know if I can do another two billion years of seminars. Do you have any suggestions?” 
The AG did an invisible shrug. “Quantum fluctuations.” 
“What the heck are they?” the RG responded quickly. 
“They’re a change of subject. Always good when the seminar goes south.” 
*** 
“OK, class, let’s focus.” The RG’s irritation could be perceived in his voice. “Who will make a stab at the concept of WR?” 
SLB 24XBC raised a wing. The RG said, “Go ahead, BC. Let’s hear what you’ve got.” 
“WR is simply a way of explaining the ins and outs of a DU (Deterministic Universe). Everything, and I mean everything, by definition, is real in a DU. There can be no such things as accidental musings, stray thoughts, wild imaginings, or idle hands…” BC was suddenly interrupted by you know who. 
“There goes my workshop.” 
A big laugh ensued. 
*** 
“How did it go this time?” 
“A little better; we seem to be making progress on the WR concept. By the way, I think I’m almost ready to discuss in more detail your Method Of Operation, or MOO, as I like to call it.” 
The AG raised an invisible eyebrow. “I like that acronym: MOO. It has a nice ring to it. Let’s save it for future use.” 
The RG replied, “I like it too. It might make a good animal sound when we create animals on Earth.” 
“Well, it does rhyme with kangaroo and caribou.” 
“We’ll consider it when the time is right. Well, I need to get back to the seminar. Duty calls.” 
*** 
The AG then left or did he? The RG could never be sure. But he was sure the only way to deal with the AG was to pretend the future was open and yet to be decided, even though it wasn’t. Maybe he was getting the hang of this absolute/relative thing. Only time would tell.


 Chapter 6
 
Where You Never Trust your Car to the Being behind the Star
 
“It’s time to talk a little bit about UNA.” The RG started walking after he started talking.“Anyone here ever heard of it before?” 
Gabriel, always quick to retort, “Is it the word for the number ONE in the NANO (Neither Alpha Nor Omega) Parallel Universe”? 
The RG slowed his pace a bit and acknowledged the loquacious SLB. “Now, Gabe, that’s really not that bad a stab at the answer. Wrong, but at least you’re trying. How about you, Satan? You’re usually ready with a quip.” 
Satan, who was approximately 1.5 trillion miles away in the light-year long classroom, roared back, “UNA stands for Universal Nucleic Acid. By the way, what’s with you and the Big Guy’s penchant for acronyms? This isn’t it the United States Military, you know.” 
The RG shook off Satan’s not unsurprising sarcasm and picked up his pace again. “That’s right. UNA: Universal Nucleic Acid. And where do we find it?” 
“We find it wherever the Big Guy wants to control living beings down to their tiniest micro-particle. Big Guy as Big Brother as we Bad SLBs sometimes call him when he’s not around.” 
“Now, Satan, surely you know the Big Guy is never not around. But I understand, your continuing sanity depends upon you fostering the delusion that you can actually be alone at times.” 
“Alone but not lonely.” 
The RG smiled and leaped a half-a-leap year to the middle of the room. He found that moving about helped him to keep his interest up.


Chapter 7
 
Where the Dog Star Stops Barking
 
The Endless Seminars were continuing. Of course, endless was not accurate in a purely semantic manner, but was more indicative of an emotion. The SLBs were ready for some action and there was some scuttlebutt that the RG was working on something called female humans. One B(bad)SLB even made the comment: “I might even give up my wings for some of that action.” 
But let’s get back to the current seminar: 
“Can anyone define absolute?” 
“That’s easy. It means (and the SLB started down a list): 
“Absolute (as adjective): 
1. Free from imperfection; complete; perfect 
2. Not mixed or adulterated; pure 
3. Complete; outright 
4. Free from restriction or limitation; not limited in any way 
5. Unrestrained or unlimited by a constitution, counterbalancing, group, etc, in the exercise of governmental power, esp. then arbitrary or despotic 
6. Viewed independently; not comparative or relative; ultimate; intrinsic 
7. Positive; certain.” 
“On the money XY; now, who would like to define relative?” 
47GUI responded: 
“Relative (as adjective): 
1. Considered in relation to something else; comparative 
2. Existing or having its specific nature only by relation to something else; not absolute or independent 
3. Having relation or connection 
4. Having reference or regard; relevant; pertinent 
5. Correspondent; proportionate 
6. (of a term, name, etc.) depending for significance upon something else.” 
“Another good answer, UI; but it’s easy to see both of you went to dictionary.com for the answers. Didn’t I tell you that it’s bad form to use technology that hasn’t been created yet?” 
Both XY and UI averted the RG’s stare. UI spoke up, “Sorry, Chief, but we were talking to Satan and he said knowing the future is not that big a deal. After all, it’s going to happen anyway, no matter what we know or don’t know, or what we do or don’t do. He had a fancy name for it. Fatalism, I think.” 
The RG started walking toward Sirius, the Dog Star. “Ah, yes. Because we are meeting right now, then ten million years ago it was true that we would be meeting right now. And while that’s absolutely true, it’s not relatively true. Do you see the difference, XY?” 
XY stuttered a little, then responded: “A little bit, Chief. We, as well as you, are relative beings. We have to deal with reality in a relative way. When we start dealing with reality in an absolute way, we’re doing that which we’re not equipped for.” 
“Excellent answer, XY. Where did you get that answer from?” 
“Do I have to tell?”


 Chapter 8
 
Where God Compares Himself to an Enchilada
 
“What I can’t understand, AG, is this parallel universe concept. Doesn’t the term universe mean all there is? Isn’t it the whole enchilada?” 
“Yes and No, RG. Wrap your head around this. I’m the whole enchilada. I am the universe. But I’m also infinite, i.e., no end in sight. Once you start saying the universe is all things then I suddenly become second banana. So to rectify the situation I also gave you the ability to create parallel universes. That way no one universe can take precedence over the other.” 
“I thought I only created one universe.” 
“You did but I made sure there was a quantum loop in your equations. The universe you created just keeps repeating itself.” 
The RG suddenly felt the need to sit down. 
“Move over to my right side. I like you better there.” 


 Chapter 9
 
Where the Best Advice is No Advice 
 
Before we relate the proceedings of the Famous MOO Debate which happened in Star Seminar 678987456231-A and which ended the seminar where RG spoke at length (almost 96,000 years) to the entire population of SLBs (both good and bad), let us first go back to the conversation between AG and RG that got the ball rolling.
“OK, AG, since I’m asking, it must mean that I was destined to ask at this moment, but it may not mean I was destined to get an answer, since I haven’t got an answer yet: what is your Method Of Operation, or MOO as I like to call it?” 
“Son, I’ll get right to the point. My Method Of Operation, or MOO as you like to call it, is in a nutshell as follows: I dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s. I never leave anything to chance… even chance itself. I’m always ‘there’ wherever ‘there’ might be; the same with ‘here’. Get used to me. I’m not going away. I do listen to my creatures, but only because I enjoy hearing what I wrote. And finally, I just love it when a plan comes together.” 
It was just what RG needed to hear. He felt now he had the intellectual ammunition he needed for a 100,000 year seminar. 
***
The first 75,000 years or so of Star Seminar 678987456231-A went without a hitch. Everyone was on board following the broad outlines of AG’s Master Script. And they all enjoyed the more esoteric aspects of his MOO methodology. Here are some of the high points: Satan would finally rebel against RG, pulling away approximating 1/3 of the SLBs or ‘angels’ (...as they were more and more being called; Angel stood for Ambassadors for Nuclear Growth and Electron Living. Angels were pro-nuke but preferred not to get too close to atoms when they split.) In a cosmic fight so fierce at least one parallel universe was destroyed, Satan and his minions would be defeated by RG and his. It wasn’t really a fair fight since RG had 2/3 of the angels on his side. But as RG and Satan both later admitted, what’s fair about a deterministic universe (DU)? 
For doing such a good job of leading his minions to defeat, Satan would be awarded a consolation prize he had long been campaigning for: he would be allowed to temporarily change his name to Lucifer, Son of the Morning Star. Lucifer would then make a grand entrance to Earth in a form of a falling star. He then would be given control of Earth itself. Satan was delighted with the temporary name change but had doubts about the Earth gig. “What am I going to do with an empty, wasted planet (it will be devastated in the afore-mentioned Cosmic Upheaval). I’m no homebody. I like to roam to and fro throughout the universe.” 
The RG replied, “You can still roam from time to time. But you’re wrong about Earth being an empty, wasted planet. It may be now but in a few billion years, it’ll be teeming with life.” 
“I’ve heard that rumor.” Satan retorted. “You’re going to create some frail creatures called humans and there will be two sexes, male and female. For some reason, some of my boys are already salivating over the females." 
“I recommend that your boys stay away from the human females, unless they want to see their spirits torn asunder from their bodies. You should tell them to think of human females as nuclei of atoms.” 
“Some of my boys have minds of their own.” 
“That’s what they think.” 
***
As long as Satan was free to roam, having fun and causing havoc wherever he went, he was fine. However, when RG started talking about the Great Tribulation, the Millennium, and Post-Millennium, Satan got visibly upset and the Great MOO Debate began. 
Here’s Satan talking to RG: “Let me get this straight. At the end of the Great Tribulation, I get my butt kicked by you, and get thrown in the bottomless pit where I stay under house arrest for 1000 years. Then when I get out, I once again try to defeat you, get my butt kicked again, and then be tortured in the Lake of Fire for untold ages. This is my reward for doing exactly what I’m supposed to do? It doesn’t make sense! " 
RG: “I didn’t write the script. My job is to direct it." 
Satan: “I demand a re-write!” 
RG: “Ain’t gonna happen. You can’t change something that as far as Whole Reality is concerned, has already happened. " 
Satan: “So I’m just stupid.” 
RG: “What do you mean by that?” 
Satan: “I mean the definition of stupid is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” 
RG: “There you go. You’ve solved the problem just by thinking about it. " 
Satan: “Now I’m asking. What do you mean by that?” 
RG: “You can’t really expect anything in a DU, for how you can you expect something that’s already happened.?” 
Satan: “Your logic is unassailable as well I might add, impeccable. Oh, well.” 
RG: OK, class, we're stopping 4,000 years early. See you at the next seminar in the MI Galaxy. Don’t park too close to the Black Hole in Sector UUUU456NBVC.



Chapter 10

Where Two's Company but Three's a Stretch

The AG & RG were having yet another pre-production meeting. In this case, the main topic was the creation of humanity on the planet Earth.
“Now, AG, this is a bigger undertaking than I first imagined. There are a lot of crucial variables present when dealing with humans that are not there when dealing with the SLBs.” 
“Are you saying the job is too big for you?” 
“Not exactly but I am saying I could use some more help.” 
“What did you have in mind?” 
“I would like someone similar to you, that is, 100% spirit, yet someone who is under my direct orders.” 
The AG paused a second or two before answering, “Hmmm, not a bad idea. But there are some ramifications that you may not have considered.” 
“Like what?” 
“Well, there’s a good chance that some will mistake this helper as something more than he is. They might even elevate him to god-like status.” 
The RG laughed. “That’s funny, AG. “ 
The AG responded, “Look, Son, by now you should understand that I’m not much into non-sequiturs. I like logical progression. That way when a miracle happens, it really stands out. Once you show up on Earth in mortal form and start saying ‘God is Spirit’, and say things like ‘when I’m gone, the Spirit will console you’ and other similar statements, people will start attributing person status to the Spirit. They may even get the crazy idea that we three are one.” 
The RG remained impassive: “It’s just one of those things, AG. I need help and this is the best way I know to get that help.” 
“It’s your call, Junior.” 
“Thanks, AG.”



Chapter 11
 
Where a Tree is More than a Tree and yet Less
 
Adam was restless and in a less than wonderful mood. He had seen the tree with all the ripe and delicious looking fruit and he wasn’t happy about it. He had a bone to pick with RG. 
“This is a set-up!” 
The RG remained calm. “Now, Adam, you’re jumping to conclusions again. Just because you’re a free moral agent doesn’t mean we superior beings like to play games with you. The tree is there for a reason.” 
“And pray tell what might that be?” Adam had trouble controlling his sarcasm. 
“We want to see if you and Eve can refrain from eating from it even when tempted.” 
“I knew it! A trap!” Adam cried out. 
Eve had walked out from among the trees. “Uh, Adam.” 
“Not now, Eve. I’m talking over something very important with RG and our future happiness may depend on it.” 
“Uh, Adam, dear, I’ve got something to tell you.” 



EPILOG

Where the Absolutely Absolute Becomes Absolutely Relative

“Have you figured it out yet?” The AG’s voice came from somewhere near Alpha Centauri. 
“Yes. Just last night, as a matter of fact.” The RG answered back. “You don’t really exist.” 
“Bravo!” The AG cried out. “And what gave it away?” 
“Little things, I suppose; like your invisibility. I’ve never actually seen you. Just this voice coming out of nowhere.” 
“But I’m pure spirit. Of course, you can’t see me.” 
“But a voice implies a body; at least a throat with a larynx. Also, the SLBs started wondering: why didn’t you attend any of the seminars? The only member of the Godhead they ever dealt with was me. “ 
The AG laughed. “OK, smartie, then where I did come from?” 
The RG didn’t laugh. “Obviously, I created you. You’re an extension of my mind. But for some reason, I made myself forget that I created you.” 
“Would you like to speculate why?” 
“Comedic relief?”
The AG laughed again. “There is that. But I think the main reason you created me was to have someone as smart as yourself to talk to; you made yourself forget because it made the experience more realistic.”
“We did have some great talks out among the stars.”
The AG spoke in a more serious tone. “Well, I guess you don’t need me any more.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Then it’s time for me to go?”
“Yes. But remember, I may bring you back if I decide to do it all again.”
“I’m counting on it.”



THE END
 (Relatively Speaking, Of Course)