The Saving Of Earth-777

Chapter 1

God was napping again. It was 10:52 in the morning—in ‘Heaven Time’—and God was already back asleep.

God had given up on all of the timelines a long, long time ago, and 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 God gave ‘life’ the opportunity for free-will—somehow, in some unfathomable way—’life’ chose poison.

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 these ‘timelines’ and spent their entire existence managing them. 

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

Making it impossible for a timeline to branch out, every timeline ran parallel to another one, never overlapping or merging, on a set path that God had for it. 

But, God had grown tired of watching its children die. 

Exhausted, sleeping for a few millennia sounded as if it would help. This God had given up entirely on his creation and was now abandoning them to a reckoning of their own causing. And he was okay with that. For now.

At 10:53 in the morning, on this particular day, 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’m coming. Give me a minute to get decent.”

“I have coffee for you, Sir,” Trevor said.

“Bless you, Trevor.”

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

God splashed some water on its face and took a deep breath. I am getting old, God thought.

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

“Late night?” Trevor asked him.

“Still with the tone?” God asked, frowning and furrowing its brow.

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

“Didn’t I say something about judging others?” 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. You need to see it.”

“You’re always so serious, Trevor. It’s exhausting,” God said with a deep sigh.

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

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

“It’s one of the timelines, Sir. Its likely-hood of surviving increased by .1%.” 

God stopped walking and turned to face Trevor. “.1%?? But, that’s impossible?”

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

“What happened to raise the survival rate?” God asked, walking briskly to catch up.

“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 stream of one of the timelines on it. “It’s this one down here. Earth-777,” Trevor said.

“Three seven’s? Really?” God asked. 

Trevor smirked. “Yep. Life is full of subtle ironies like this one. A lot of symbolism, if you catch my drift.” He winked at God playfully. 

“That’s weird. You’re weird.”

“Yep, it sure is weird,” Trevor said before pointing at one of the screens. “Here, this one.” 

There was a man jogging alone in the woods. He looked exhausted; no, more than exhausted, he looked defeated, but he pressed forward, refusing to slow down, clearly pushing himself through grueling agony. 

“Who’s this?” God asked, cocking his head to the side, watching the man.

“You know who it is.”

“I do?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“Look closely.”

God took a step closer to the screen and narrowed his gaze. It can’t be. . . “Is that—”

“Yep,” Trevor said quickly. 

“And he hasn’t—”

“Nope. He hasn’t.”

“How??”

“We don’t know.”

“He’s still trying??”

“Yeah.”

“Even after everything that's—”

“Yeah, even after everything.”

“He looks like shit. But . . . his eyes.” God shivered. Trevor glanced at God and smirked again. “What were the odds that he’d still be doing this?” God asked him.

“.000007%.”

God stepped forward, getting even closer to the screen. 

Impossible . . . This isn’t possible. “He, all alone, raised the survival rate by .1%?”

“It appears that it is mostly because of him,” Trevor said with pride. “But not entirely.”

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

He’s only one man, God thought, studying him curiously. How can one man increase the survival rate of an entire timeline? Men shouldn’t be able to do that. 

“Keep watching,” Trevor said, nodding, as if he could hear what God was thinking. 

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

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. Together, 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, before his foot landed on a rock and his ankle turned over violently. 

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

Trevor raised his hand to God, silencing him, continuing to focus on the man. “Just keep watching.”

Get up, God thought, praying for the man—God’s first prayer for man in centuries, not knowing why a prayer felt right for this strange man. You’re alright. Get up. The man raised his face an inch off the dirt. His nose was bleeding—his body covered in dirt and cuts. C’mon, get up. That’s it, Kid! You can do it. You’ve done it before—what's one more time? The man looked around, curiously, as if he heard something in the wind.I used to believe in you, God thought, willing the man to his feet. I used to root for you . . . What’s one more time?

The man started to rise, pushing himself up. 

“He’s doing it,” God whispered, in awe of the man. “He’s getting up again! How many times can this guy do this, Trevor??”

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

“How’s he doing this, though?? Why hasn’t he given up yet? It doesn’t make any damn sense,” God said.

“We don’t know. All we do know is that this one seems different. But also, just like everyone else.”

“He’s determined. Look at him! Look at his eyes!” God hesitated, before asking in a whisper, “What will he become, Trevor?”

“We were hoping that you could tell us that,” Trevor said.

“And,” God dropped its eyes for a second, “is he still a good man?”

Trevor shrugged. “He’s been through a lot. But, he still tries. There’s something admirable about that.”

The man was sprinting up the rest of the hill, blood dripping from his face and knees, with a stride that was trying to hide a new limp.

“I think he could hear me, Trevor. I haven’t spoken to any of them in so long.” God hesitated before saying, “I didn’t think any of them could hear me any longer. I didn’t think my prayers could reach them.”

“You recognize him now?” Trevor asked.

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

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

A tear started to roll down God's face as he watched him. “Can he do it, Trevor? Can he actually save Earth—777?” 

“One man can’t save a timeline. But something is happening down there. We think it’s possible that something might change,” Trevor said, looking at God. “Something we couldn’t predict. And if you start to believe in him, who knows what will happen?”

“Me??” God asked, puzzled. “Every timeline I ever loved died, Trevor. The odds aren’t in our favor.”

“They never are. So damn the odds.”

“Just one man, though?”

“He’s not alone, Sir.”

“The rest of them? Do you think they’ll join him?” God asked. “Do you think they’ll start to believe in themselves again?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Probably not,” God admitted. “I was ready to give up on them, Trevor.”

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

“Not him, though. He still believes,” God said, nodding to the screen.

“Aye, he does.”

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

“Dunno.”

“‘The Fighter’,” God said, shaking its head in disbelief. 

“Sir,” Trevor said, “we’ve got a new report. The survival rate for Earth—777 is up .4%.”

“Impossible! How?”

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

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

“Together, Sir,” Trevor said, ominously. 

“Huh?”

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

God looked down at his feet, considering the situation. “He hasn’t given up yet,” God said, looking up. “Together, then. Together we will try. If he can do it, then I might be able to. One more time, Trevor. This is our last chance.”

Trevor nodded. “One more time,” he said.