Dead & Godless (9 page)

Ransom
swept a hand over the scene with salesman-like swagger.

“Welcome,”
he proclaimed, “to the Divine Supermarket!”

Corwin
had to step aside as a little old lady barreled past, her shopping cart laden
with the statue of a nude, bearded fellow on a circular pedestal. Wherever he
looked, customers bustled about in search of their favored gods. A few weren’t
content with just one, lugging multiple carts full of idols, wheels squeaking
as they rolled cumbrously towards the registers. There were people of every
race and creed, spanning the ages from antiquity to the modern era. They wore
Greek togas and medieval tunics, tribal feathers and Japanese kimonos.

“Here
you’ll find every god that’s ever entered the mind of man,” said Ransom.

“It’s
quite a selection,” noted Corwin.

“That
it is, but you wouldn’t like the customer service. There are no refunds, much
of the merchandize is rife with hidden costs, and even the popular brands are
likely to gain you more enemies than admirers.”

A
woman in red cut a determined path through the myriad shoppers. Her high heels
clicked with efficient strides, a tablet computer tucked professionally under
one arm.

“Why,
if it isn’t Elsie, my diligent and devoted secretary!” Ransom flamboyantly
declared.

Ignoring
his greeting, she pushed up her glasses and coolly inspected their young
companion.

“This
girl is mortal. You do realize that abducting her from her native universe is
completely against company policy?”

“She’s
a bit underage for an intern, but I was thinking that she could tag along with
us for a while.”

“She’s
mortal,”
Elsie repeated.

“A
minor detail. I’m sure we can work something out.”

“You
know that I can’t let you do that. I’m taking her back where she belongs.”

As she
reached for the girl’s hand, Blue locked her arms around Ransom’s waist.

“I
don’t want to go back!” she pleaded, tilting her head with a puppy dog stare.
“I want to stay with Mr. Apples!”

“Mr.
Apples
is going to lose his job,” threatened Elsie.

“Maybe,”
Ransom lifted Blue’s chin, “but how could I part with a face like this?”

His
secretary sighed in resignation. There was no talking sense into her
incorrigible boss once he had made up his mind.

“I
can’t keep covering for you indefinitely. Sooner or later she’ll have to return.”

“Do me
a favor,” requested Ransom. “When you get back, visit the Archives and see if
you can find anything on a place called the Starlight Garden.”

“What’s
this about?”

“It’s
just a hunch I have.”

Elsie
eyed him dubiously.

“When
this case is over, you and I are going to have another long talk.”

“I’d
be lost without you, Elsie!” called Ransom as his secretary strutted away
toward the lengthy checkout lines.

Corwin
was leaning against a shelf with his arms folded, an amused look stamped on his
face.

“Another
long talk? It doesn’t sound like your methods are condoned by the management.”

“Rules
and regulations have their place,” said Ransom. “But I find that many problems
are best solved with a more
direct
solution. If the managing partners
don’t like it, let them issue a reprimand.”

“That’s
not the way to get ahead in your career, you know.”

“I
wasn’t always a paper-pushing attorney. This state of affairs is but a
temporary arrangement.”

“I
thought you’ve been at it for eight hundred years?”

“A
temporary arrangement,”
Ransom reiterated.

There
was an edge to his voice, a rawness that hinted at some old and bitter memory. Corwin
was more than a little curious as to just what sort of career his attorney had
left behind, but he prudently decided to let it go for now.

As they
strolled past rows of shelves, Corwin’s gaze combed the aisles. Above each one
hung a sign.

Aisle
14: Gods of Days, Months, Years and Seasons

Aisle
15: Gods of Planets, Moons, Stars and Constellations

Aisle
16: Gods of the Elements

Aisle
17: Kings, Emperors and Assorted Divine Rulers

He
threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Surely
you can see how ridiculous this is! Even if I were to assume that somewhere
amongst all these deities is the one true god, how is anyone supposed to find
him?”

“The
first step to finding something is defining what it is that you’re looking
for,” said Ransom. “God is, among other things, the answer to a question.”

They
turned down one of the aisles.

“Take
Helios, here.” Raising his hand, Ransom indicated a bold figure crowned in a
laurel wreath, clutching the reigns of a fiery chariot. “He’s the answer to the
question: ‘What is that scorching disk of light that crosses the sky every day?’
But that’s not the question that Corwin Holiday asks when he speaks of God. No,
you’re too clever for that. An atheist of your caliber needs a worthy opponent.”

“Look,
it’s Hierax!” exclaimed Blue.

Tugging
Ransom’s sleeve, she dragged them over to one of the neighboring gods: a
fearsome lion with three eyes and griffon-like wings.

“My
husband used to tell stories of him! Hierax is the god of the high mountains, seer
of secrets and patron of warriors that die in battle.”

“It
looks like Blue didn’t worship at the right temple,” murmured Corwin. “I guess
you’ll have to cast her into Hell.”

“Fragments
of truth can be found in almost every religion,” said Ransom. “Blue, in the
stories you were told, was there a first god, one who was older than the rest?”

“Teos,
father of all,” she answered. “The stars are the windows of his palace.”

Blue
scurried ahead in search of other gods she might recognize.

“Even
in polytheistic traditions, there’s usually an eldest. This girl is closer to
grasping reality than most atheists, though I think you understand more than
you let on.”

“I
don’t discriminate,” said Corwin. “All gods are equally fictional to me.”

“But
not equally worthy of refuting.”

While
they were talking, Blue had climbed onto the lap of a bare-breasted, six-armed
goddess, and was hard at work balancing her hat atop the deity’s head. She
succeeded in hanging it, only to slip backwards. With the routine motions of a
professional babysitter, Ransom caught her and swung her feet to the ground.

“Notice
that Nietzsche didn’t say ‘gods are dead.’ He said ‘God is dead.’ He had a
specific vision in mind, as do you. So tell me, for a man such as yourself, what
is the unspoken question behind the word
God?”

“The
ultimate question,” Corwin replied. “Why am I here?”

“Good.
That narrows our search considerably. You’d be surprised how many gods haven’t
a thing to do with the origin of man.”

Ransom
snapped. As quickly as they had appeared, the vast majority of the shelves
pulled away, leaving but a single row.

“But
I think we can get even more specific than that. After all, ‘Why am I here?’ is
only part of the bigger question: ‘Why is anything here?’”

Again
the selection thinned. Shelves slid free, most of them racing into the distance
while the truncated row folded in on itself until it became a mere kiosk. Only
a handful of deities remained.

“Now
we’re getting somewhere!”

“You’ve
dismissed quite a few gods,” observed Corwin.

“They
were answers to the wrong questions,” Ransom said simply. “You broaden your
definition of God when it suits you, but there’s a reason why you never devoted
much energy to disproving polytheism or pantheism.”

“Maybe
because those weren’t the dominant religious views in the place and time where
I happened to be born?”

“While
true, that’s only part of the story.”

“If
there is another part, it’s because the pagan gods have no teeth. Most of them
are little more than humans with superpowers. You’re right in saying that they
don’t answer life’s deepest questions. However, I don’t see what’s so flawed
about pantheism.”

“The
god-force of pantheism isn’t totally flawed. God
is
a force, as Christians
affirm when they say ‘God is love.’”

“But
you insist that he’s also a person.”

“An
impersonal god who is one with the universe might as well
be
the
universe. Such a deity wills nothing, asks nothing of man, and is no more
deserving of worship or ridicule than the ocean tides.”

“That
god doesn’t sound too bad! Though I must confess, when New Agers used to tell
me that god was ‘inside you and me,’ I couldn’t help but ask them ‘where?’
Perhaps the lord was hiding out in a body cavity that I happened to miss.”

He
managed to elicit a snicker from Ransom as they approached the lone kiosk. Most
of these gods were familiar to Corwin. There was the ever-popular bearded old
geezer in a flowing robe. Next in line, iridescent flames licked the leaves of
a burning bush. He saw Christ crucified on the cross, and beside him, a dove
descending on a ray of light. One vision of God was represented by nothing more
than a clear pane of glass framed in marble. In the center of the glass was
printed the message: “No pictures, please.”

“As
you can see, the search isn’t nearly as daunting once you give a little thought
to your terms,” said Ransom. “The God you seek, or rather, seek to refute, is
really quite distinct. He is an uncaused cause, a supreme being, a creator who
calls forth existence from nothingness by a sheer act of will.”

“Yet
several gods remain,” replied Corwin. “Were I to choose but one of them, the
odds would still be against me.”

Ransom
sauntered in a slow circle around the kiosk.

“You
assume that each one of these is a different god, but what if that’s not the
case? What if these that remain are actually just different visions depicting
the same God, some more correct in their details than others, but none
altogether false.”

“Even
if these gods are all one, the religions that worship them are most definitely not.
Some of them are liable to chop your head off for even implying that they pray
to the same god as the people in the church or mosque or temple across the
street.”

“Our
task here was not to find a religion. Matters of religion have much to do with
what a god says and who he says it to. If one is to weigh the truth of such
things, one must first know what God is.”

“And
this god alone is, as you would put it, the answer to the right question?”

“He’s
the answer to all the big questions, from ‘Why is there something rather than
nothing?’ to ‘Why do flowers bloom in the spring?’”

“I
thought we agreed that science was the answer to that latter question.”

“That
depends.”

“On
what?”

“Do
you want the long answer or the short one?”

Supernatural Flying Space Geezer

Corwin perused
the kiosk as though taking in a museum exhibit, admiring the finely sculpted
gods (or visions of a singular god, if his attorney was to be believed).

The
statues were so exquisitely crafted that he would hardly have been surprised if
their marble eyes had blinked. Billions had sworn allegiance to this god. Millions
had died in his name. He had left an indelible mark upon history, unlike any
deity before, but that didn’t make him real.

Even
if this was the most logical conception of God (a notion that Corwin wasn’t yet
convinced of), was not the cost too high? And didn’t the fact that he seemed
such an ideal fit for the puzzle of life simply mean that wiser theologians had
dreamt him up?

“As
far as gods go, yours is awfully convenient,” he said in a tone that meant
too
convenient. “If I wanted to be difficult, I could bring up the fact that you
have yet to prove all those other gods are false.”

“Unnecessary,”
replied Ransom. “I need only prove that the Father is uniquely suited to his
title. He is not
just another
god. Or do you plan to persist in the trite
notion that all gods are equivalent? For someone who prides himself on being an
analytical thinker, that sort of pluralism reeks of intellectual laziness.”

“I’ll
not beat a dead horse, but I do have a question.”

“You
usually do.”

“Why?”

“Why?”
echoed Ransom with a blank look.

“Why
the mystery? Why force man to endure this confusing search in the first place?
Does your reclusive god enjoy playing hide-and-seek?”

“If
he does, he’s apparently not very good at it. Seek and you shall find; knock
and the door shall be opened to you, or so it’s said.”

“But
where is the logic in that?” pressed Corwin. “If a reasonable god wanted us to
know and love him, he wouldn’t hide amidst all these pretenders. A reasonable god
would openly reveal himself. I’d have dropped atheism in a second flat if the
lord almighty had shown up at the foot of my bed and just given me a stern
look.”

“Believe
me, I do wish he’d do that sometimes,” muttered Ransom. “It certainly would make
my job a lot easier. But have you ever imagined the consequences? Has it
crossed your mind how the world might be if belief in God didn’t require
faith?”

A
consummate darkness enfolded them, slowly lifting to reveal a tidy bedroom.
Blades of pale light slanted through the shuttered windows. A middle-aged man
lay sound asleep, tucked snugly beneath his quilted comforter. On the end
table, the alarm clock’s glowing red digits read 6:29, then 6:30. An incessant
beeping announced the new day. Silencing the machine with a groping swing of
his arm, the waking man tossed back his sheets and climbed reluctantly out of
bed, scratching the leg of his pajamas as he trudged towards the bathroom.

“This
is Harold,” said Ransom. “His life is fairly ordinary. Five days a week he
wakes up at dawn and heads into the office.”

Harold
flicked on the bathroom lights and rummaged about for a fresh razor and a tube
of toothpaste. The rhythmic scratch of teeth being brushed followed Corwin and company
down the hall as they made for the small nook of tiles and granite that was the
kitchen.

“Harold
is what you might call a fallen-away Christian,” explained the angel. “He’s not
anti-religious—not like you—but like many young adults, thoughts of God and the
afterlife simply aren’t of much concern to him. He may find religion again in
another twenty or thirty years when the specter of death looms closer, but in
the meantime he’s got more important things on his mind, things like his
upcoming promotion and whether or not he’ll win big in the next round of
fantasy football.”

Wrapped
in a towel, Harold stopped by the kitchen just long enough to put on a pot of
coffee before rushing off to get dressed.

“Today,
however, that’s all going to change.”

As
the coffee dripped, Ransom raided the fridge and poured a tall glass of milk,
then opened the pantry and introduced Blue to the wonder of Oreos. Captivated
by the cookies, she studied how to dunk, twist off the tops and lick the cream
with the rapt attention of a martial arts master learning new techniques.

Compared
to when they had found her, Blue almost looked like a different person. Her
spindly arms and legs had filled out, her mousy hair now fell in lustrous waves,
and there was a gracefulness to her features that made it harder to guess her
age.

Corwin
also noticed a slight change in his attorney. Since the girl had joined them,
Ransom hadn’t touched his bourbon or cigarettes.

A few
minutes later Harold burst out of the bedroom in a navy blue suit and striped
tie, a leather briefcase clutched in one hand. He poured his steaming caffeine
fix into a travel mug, screwed tight the lid and marched for the door.

The
pastel light of dawn glistened on the leaves. Ready to face the day, he took one
step off his porch, then stopped and stiffened. The coffee mug slipped absently
from his hand. It struck the ground with a clack and a splash, but he didn’t
glance down. His gaze was riveted on the sky, on the impossible countenance
that had appeared there.

Glorious
rays parted the clouds, beaming forth from the head and shoulders of a colossal
old man. Harold rubbed his eyes.
I must be seeing things.
But no amount
of blinking made the vision disappear. The man was arrayed in a robe of solid
light and had a wavy silver beard. Flames smoldered in his eyes, eyes that
stared right at Harold—right through him—piercing the very depths of his soul.

His
knees buckled and he stumbled back.

“Oh
my God!”

“That’s
right!” boomed the imposing figure. “It is I, the Lord! Behold me and know that
I AM.”

“I, I
see you Lord,” stammered Harold. “I believe!”

“Henceforth
all shall believe, but though I have been hidden from man’s sight, man has
never been hidden from mine. Your every thought and deed is known to me. Will
you persist in sin, or repent and follow my commandments?”

“I
repent, Lord! Have mercy!” cried Harold. “Whatever commandments you’ve got in
mind, they sound great to me!”

He
thrust a thumbs-up to the heavens, his trembling gesture a testament that the
Lord was now his dearest pal.

“Harold
isn’t alone,” stated Ransom. “By the end of the day, there won’t be a single
person left on the planet who doubts the existence of God. And so the Lord will
remain for generations to come, a permanent fixture in the sky, lest anyone
forget.”

“I
was thinking of something a bit more subtle,” said Corwin. “But I guess it’s
hard to beat the effectiveness of
supernatural flying space geezer.”

“Anything
less would be rationalized away. A mass hallucination, a government conspiracy,
a trick played by the weather. Humans can be very creative when seeking to
disregard the miraculous.”

Ransom
began to pull something large, flat and angular out of his suit. The object
that sprang into shape was diamond kite, white and covered in big red hearts.

“Know
how to fly one of these?” he asked Blue.

She
nodded enthusiastically, taking the kite and running into the front yard. With
his arms folded, the Sky Father gazed down upon the earth in judgment, but he
paused in his glowering to return Blue’s smile and wave. As she released the
kite and gave it some slack, he pursed his lips, puffed out his cheeks and
blew.

Harold
felt the wind, but he couldn’t see Blue, nor the momentary grin on the Sky
Father’s face. He only hoped that the Devil wouldn’t be making a similar
appearance.

“As
you might imagine,” said Ransom, “Harold is soon to become a lot more
religious. From this day onward, he’ll faithfully go to church, donate to
charitable causes and make an extra effort to be kind and honest in all his
dealings. But why? Will he do so out of a genuine love for his fellow man, or
because he doesn’t want to piss off the omnipotent being whose soul-piercing eyes
see his every deed?”

“You
have a point,” Corwin confessed. “But then again, is fear such a bad thing? I
thought Christians believed it wise to fear god’s wrath.”

“Fear
of God is the beginning of wisdom, but not the end. While punishments and rewards
have their uses in a child’s upbringing, it’s love that builds true relationships—the
type of bonds that endure in the face of absence and doubt.”

“A
father who hides himself for the sake of love . . .” Corwin’s tone was one of
mock admiration. “I’ll say it again: your god is awfully convenient.”

“Your
entire universe exists for the sake of love. That may not always be easy to
see, especially through the narrow lens of one’s mortal life, but I think
you’ll find that the only logical God is a loving God.”

“And
you claim that faith makes love possible?”

“Faith
makes love
heroic,”
corrected the angel. “To choose love when the
benefit is blatantly obvious is simply to be practical. The Father prefers
heroes to pragmatists.”

On
the driveway ahead, Harold had managed to pull himself somewhat together. A new
thought delayed him as he reached for the car door.

“Hey
Lord, do I still have to go to work?”

“Only
if you would stay employed,” spoke the Lord.

“I
thought so,” moaned Harold. “You’re not going to send down any manna from Heaven
or anything?”

“You
don’t look like you’re starving in the desert,” the Lord observed. “Would you
like to be?”

“Oh
no Lord, that’s quite alright!” He hurriedly opened the door. “I’ll be off to
work now!”

One
hand waved skyward as he pulled out of the driveway, just narrowly avoiding a
collision with his mailbox. The engine growled and Harold was on his way.

Corwin
silently wished him luck, wincing as the car swerved unsteadily in its lane.
With all the distracted drivers checking their rearview mirrors for the Lord,
it was bound to be a dangerous day on the road.

“I
guess an obvious god presents some obvious problems,” he said. “How does this
all work out in Heaven?”

“If
there is any darkness within you, beholding the Father in his true splendor
would reduce you instantly to a pile of ashes,” replied Ransom. “Only in Heaven
is man made perfect enough to endure that sight.”

“Oh,
is that all? We just have to become
perfect.”

“An
impossible goal to achieve on your own. Luckily, divine grace is offered to
all. As to whether one accepts it or not—that choice lies at the heart of why
you are born unto Earth in the first place.”

“I think
I speak for most humans when I say that god should have just plunked us
straight into paradise.”

“Then
faith would play no role in your forming, and as I said–”

“The
father prefers heroes,” finished Corwin. His voice was a drawl, yet he wasn't
discouraged. “But haven’t you forgotten something? By your own logic, we
atheists are the most heroic of all! We expect no punishments or rewards in the
next life. That makes our actions nobler than any believer’s when we choose
virtue over vice!”

Unflustered,
Ransom set his gaze on the clouds.

“Can
one who believes in virtue truly be called an atheist? Can one who believes in
nothing truly be called virtuous?”

In
the yard, Blue’s face lit up, the Sky Father tossing her hair and propelling
the kite with another draft blown from on high. As he watched her, Corwin’s
thoughts went back to their first meeting, to the choice of the apple and what
it meant. Values had implications.

“You’re
enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“While
I can think of better careers, the job does occasionally have its perks.”

“Before
you congratulate yourself on making god sound not totally insane, you should
know that the tables are about to turn,” said Corwin. “One might even say that
you’ve played right into my hands.”

“Is
that right?” asked his attorney sarcastically.

“You
said it yourself: I never devoted much energy to disproving polytheism or
pantheism. That’s because I was too busy shooting holes through the fairytale
theology of your god. Making Christians look like idiots is what I’m best at.”

“Then
you should have no trouble at all doing the same to me,” replied Ransom. “And
no excuses,” he added with a grim smirk.

“If your
heavenly father is the most reasonable god that religion has to offer, then the
future of atheism is looking bright.”

Sliding
a hand into his breast pocket, Ransom drew forth a floppy manila envelope
stuffed with documents.

“I’ve
got to get me one of those suits,” Corwin muttered.

“According
to your file,” began Ransom in a ceremonious tone, “you outlined your thoughts
on the Father’s logical shortcomings in an article titled ‘The Paradoxical God,’
which you penned during your brief but distinguished career as a guest blogger.”