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The Saving Of Earth-777

God was napping again. 

It was 10:52 in the morning, and God was already back asleep.

God had given up on the timelines a long, long, time ago. Now God was waiting for the few remaining timelines to fizzle out. 

In every single universe God created for life, life found a way to cause its own extinction. 

If he gave life the opportunity for free-will—somehow, in some unfathomable way—life chose death. 

Sometimes, it was a slow death—a slow poisoning of the self. But, other times, it was a sudden nuclear death.

Life would often take a massive leap in evolution and then kill itself. 

On a random Tuesday, God had created an infinite amount of timelines and spent his entire existence managing them. 

God desperately tried to nudge them in the right directions, but they would inevitably implode. 

God made it impossible for a timeline to branch out. Every timeline ran parallel to another one, never overlapping and merging. But, God had grown tired of watching its children die. 

God was exhausted these days, and really felt like sleeping for a few millennia would help. 

But, at 10:52 in the morning, on a Wednesday, God's least favorite Angel knocked on God's door.

“Sir, I am sorry to bother you, but there is something that you must see.”

God grunted. “Go away.”

“Sir, it is important.”

God grunted again. “No it’s not,” God said, turning around and putting a pillow over the top of its head. 

“Even Gabriel said that you should see this, Sir. It’ll only take a moment, then you can get back to your nap.”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Trevor.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“That’s the same tone.”

Trevor lowered his voice. “Sorry, Sir . . . Better?”

“Good grief,” God said, sighing. ”Alright, I am coming. Give me a minute to get decent.”

“I have coffee for you, Sir.”

“Bless you, Trevor.”

God pulled on some pants and slipped on a shirt. Its hair was uncombed and the bag under its eyes was dark. 

God splashed some water on its face and took a deep breath. 

I am getting old, God thought.

God swung open his bedroom door and found the Angel, Trevor, patiently waiting for him, with a large cup of coffee, with a spoonful of honey and half a packet of Splenda in it, for him.

“Late night?” Trevor asked him.

“Still with the tone?”

Trevor cleared its throat and lowered its voice again, “Sorry, Sir. I am working on it.”

“Didn’t I say something about judging others once?” God asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you did, Sir. You said so many things back in the day—back when you didn’t nap in the morning.”

“That’s it, I am going back to bed,” God said, turning around.

“No, Sir, I’ll stop. I am serious about this, Sir. You need to see this.”

“You’re always so serious, Trevor. It’s exhausting.”

They walked down a long golden hall together that had no windows or lightbulbs, but was alive with light. The floor glowed, the doors sparkled, and a mist omitted a faint yellow light. 

“So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s one of the timelines, Sir. Its likely-hood of surviving increased by .7%.”

God stopped walking and turned to face Trevor. “.7%?? But, that’s impossible?”

“I know it is,” Trevor said casually. He continued to walk down the long glowing hall, leaving God to catch up with him.

“What happened to raise the survival rate?”

“You’ll see,” Trevor said, turning the handle to one of the doors and stepping in.

God followed.

It was a giant dark room filled with an infinite amount of screens. Each screen had a live recording of one of the timelines on it. 

“It’s this one down here, Earth-777.”

“Three seven’s? . . . Really?”

Trevor smirked, “Yep.”

“That’s weird.”

“Sure is. Here, this one.” The two of them stopped in front of a massive screen. There was a man jogging alone in the woods on it. He looked exhausted, but he pressed forward, refusing to slow down.

“Who’s this?” God asked, curiously.

“You know who it is.”

“I do?”



“Look closely.”

God took a step closer to the screen and narrowed his gaze.

It can’t be. . .

“Is that—. . .”


“And he hasn’t—

—Nope. He hasn’t.”


“We don’t know.”

“He’s still trying? . . .”


“After everything that's happened to him?”

“Yeah, after everything.”

“He looks like shit. But . . . his eyes.” God shivered.

Trevor glanced at him and smirked. 

“What were the odds that he’d still be doing this?” God asked him.


God stepped forward, getting even closer to the screen.

Impossible . . . This isn’t possible.

“He alone raised the survival rate by .7%?”

“It appears so.”

The man on the screen started to jog up a steep hill. He slowed down for a few moments.

He’s only one man, God thought. 

“Keep watching,” Trevor said, smiling.

The man on the screen took a deep breath in through his nostrils and then accelerated, lengthening his stride. He pushed himself, sprinting up the hill. The suffering was apparent by the way his face was contorted, yet, he continued to press forward.  

And then God heard something it hadn’t heard in a very long time. God heard the man’s prayer in a faint whisper.

We can do it, God. We can do anything. Our strength comes from life itself. I believe in the God who believes in me. And the God who believes in me, is the God I believe in.”

The man’s pace quickened even more, fully sprinting. But, then the man’s foot landed on a rock and his ankle turned over violently. 

God gasped. “Holy shit!” he turned to Trevor, “we have to help—”

Trevor raised his hand to God. “Just keep watching.”

Get up, God thought, praying for the man. Get up. 

The man raised his face an inch off the dirt. It was scrapped. His nose was bleeding—his body covered in dirt and cuts.

C’mon, get up. You can do it.

The man looked around, curiously, as if he heard something. 

And then God prayed something to someone God hadn’t prayed in decades. 

I believe in you.

The man started to rise.

“He’s doing it!” God said to Trevor. “He’s getting up again! How many times can this guy keep getting up?”

“I told you that this was worth skipping your nap for.”

“How’s he doing this?? Why hasn’t he given up yet??”

“We don’t know. All we do know is that this one seems different.”

“He’s determined. Look at him! Look at his eyes! . . . What will he become, Trevor?”

“We were hoping that you could tell us that.”

The man was sprinting up the rest of the hill, blood dripping from his face and knees. 

“I think he could hear me, Trevor . . . I haven’t spoken to one of them in so long . . .”

“You recognize him now?”

God fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he said, “. . . he’s ‘The Anomaly’.”

The man looked out from the top of the hill, admiring the view. He took a deep breath and smiled. He looked peaceful—even . . . happy. 

A tear started to roll down God's face. “Can he do it, Trevor? Can he save his timeline?”

“We think it’s possible. And if you start to believe in him, well . . . who knows what will happen?”

“Me?? . . . The odds aren’t in our favor . . .”

“They never are.”

“True. Just one man, though?”

“He’s not alone, Sir.”

“The rest of them? Do you think they’ll join him?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Probably . . . I was ready to give up on them, Trevor . . .”

“And they’re ready to give up on you.”

“Not him, though. He still believes.”

“Ay, he does.”

“Why would he still believe in me? Why would he still believe in himself?”


“‘The Anomaly’. . .”

“Sir, we’ve got a new report. The survival rate for Earth-777 is up 1.4%.”

“Impossible!! How??”

“I think it’s because you believe in him, Sir.”

“Me?? I didn’t do anything, Trevor. You saw. I stood there and watched him.”

“Together, Sir.”


“You and him together, Sir. Maybe, together, you two can save his world?”

God looked down at his feet. 

“He hasn’t given up yet . . . I won’t either. Together, then,” God said, nodding. “Together we will try. If he can do it, so can I.”

CH 5/29/24

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