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The Saving Of Earth-777 (Chapter 2)

God was leaning up against the wall, talking to Julie from accounting. 

It was a Wednesday morning at the office, and God's hair was still a mess from the previous night's sleep. Steam floated off his mug of hot coffee, and Julie was playing with her hair, listening to him intently.

“. . .Yeah, I’ve been there before,” God said to her. “You think someone is your friend, you trust them, and then they betray you. Lucifer did that to me and Judas did it to Jesus . . . and . . . Maybe I did it to Job . . . Maybe I did it to a few people . . . But, hey, none of us are perfect, right? We can only try to be better . . . Anyway, do you have any plans for your weekend?”

“Mary—from Transportation—wants to get drinks. After that, we might go do Karaoke. She is going through a nasty breakup right now, and honestly, anything could happen. Seems like she really wants to cut loose. Why?” She asked him, leaning in closer, still playing with her hair. “What do you have going on this weekend?”

“I should probably work.”

“You?? Working on the weekend??”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—. . . there might be this kid from Earth-777 that can change things. He is turning out to be a real pain in my ass.”

“Change things? Like what?”

“He might be able to save his timeline.”

She laughed hysterically, and softly punched him on the arm. “Oh, God, you're a riot,” she said, wiping away tears from her eyes.

“Unfortunately, I am being serious,” God said, looking down at his shoes. 

Her mouth dropped. And then she glared at him. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t tell me that you’re starting to believe in them again??” she asked him. 

God looked up at her, meeting her gaze. He took a deep breath in. “No . . . I don’t believe in all of them, just one of them.”

“You’re going to be crushed again! How many times can you get your hopes up, just to be let down by them? How many chances can you give them? One man can’t save an entire timeline. It’s impossible.”

“I know.”

“How many other timelines did you create? And what happened to all of them?”

“Not all of them . . . There’s still a few lingering around . . .”

“They all imploded!”

“I know. But, this kid, he isn’t giving up. And, he still believes in me. He is rooting for me. It’s absurd . . . I know that it’s not possible, but he did increase the survival rate by quite a bit already.”

She took a step back from God and crossed her arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just . . . if he doesn’t give up, then maybe I shouldn’t either? Maybe we have to start by believing in the imposs—

—God! There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! I was sure that you’d be back in bed.” A man came running up to the two of them, a folder in his hand. 

“Trevor??”

“You have to see this!” he said, holding up the folder, a giant smile across his face. 

“Can’t it wait, Trevor?” God said, frowning. “I’m a little busy.”

“It doesn’t look like it. Hi, Julie.”

“Hey, Trevor. What is it that you want him to see?”

“It’s the latest progress report of Earth–777,” he said to her, and then he turned to God. “Guess how many punches he threw this week?”

“Er—. . . I don’t know, Trevor . . . 2,000?”

Trevor frowned at God. “Be serious for a moment,” he said.

God raised an eyebrow, “4,000?”

“You really don’t understand him yet, do you?”

“Your tone hasn’t improved at all,” God said, glancing at Julie who was looking stoic. “It’s still pretty condescending at times.”

“He threw 4,000 punches today,” Trevor said, handing the folder over to God with a smile.

“What??” God said, flipping through the folder. “But it’s only 10am??”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The kid has thrown 30,000 punches this week. He is a force, Sir.”

God’s eyes grew wide. “30,000 . . .” he said quietly.

“So?” Julie said, her arms crossed again. 

“So??” Trevor repeated, turning to face her. “So!? Go take a coffee break, Julie. And then get back to work—those numbers aren’t going to crunch themselves.”

God chuckled. “We’ll catch up later,” he said to her without looking up.

“Sure we will,” she said, rolling her eyes and walking away. “I won’t be here for you when you spiral again,” she called out over her shoulder. 

God turned to Trevor, looking concerned, “Do I spiral?” he asked.

“You’ve been known to be a bit moody at times,” Trevor answered without hesitating. “Listen, there is something else—or, maybe I should say that there is someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s this writer guy. He lives alone in the woods of Washington. He has the same spunk as the fighter kid. He won’t stop writing, Sir. And what he can tap into . . . well, let's just say that I think some of your power is leaking out of you and it’s found its way to this writer. He writes about you, Sir. He writes about you a lot. He also wants to help people. He wants to save their world.”

God looked down at his body. “You think that I have a leak?”

“It’s possible.”

“Is that why I’ve been feeling so weak for the last thousand years?”

“Could be,” Trevor said, shrugging. 

God took his hands and felt for a hole in his body. “I don’t trust writers, Trevor. They spread lies like wildfire. And they think they’re so smart, but really they’re just hairless monkeys with thumbs. They can type, big deal?”

“You know the power of stories, God. Don’t pretend like you don’t.”

“I know the power of a good story. But people don’t believe in good stories anymore, and writers sure as shit aren’t writing them.”

Trevor pulled out another folder from the air and handed it to God. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he said. 

“Hmmm . . . Oh? . . . Hmmm,” God said, reading the file on the writer. “I see . . . Hmmmm . . . Wait, what?? I’ve never thought about it like that before . . . Interesting . . . Ha! He really said that?? Haha! Oh man, this is something . . . This writer guy, he’s interesting.”

“I thought you’d think that. He’s all alone, God. He needs someone. He needs you. Imagine what he could do if you believed in him?”

“Yeah, but by what he writes, I am not sure he believes in me.”

“He’s trying to, Sir. You might need to give him something to believe in.”

God closed the folder. “Something to believe in . . . I can try.”

Trevor smiled at him. “That’s all we can do, Sir. We can try.”

“A writer and a fighter? Is this how a revolution starts, Trevor?”

“A writer, a fighter, and their God—don’t count yourself out, Sir.”

“. . . Trevor?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Have you heard from Jesus recently? We might need him for this.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t been in the office since he heard the rumors that you sent him to Earth–777 so he could pay for your sins.”

God was fidgeting nervously. “That wasn’t the only reason I sent him.”

“I know.”

“I needed to understand them better. I needed to reflect on what it was I was putting them through.”

“Some humans say that you must be real, because if you aren’t, then who is up here laughing at them.”

God sighed. “Ay, Dostoevsky was also a pain in my ass . . . I don’t laugh at them. I weep for them.”

“. . . You used to.”

“Ay, I used to. . .”

They walked down a long glowing hall together. They passed the department of Transportation. And then they walked by the department of Dreams. 

Trevor turned to God and asked, “So, what do you want to do now?”

“I think that I had better speak to him.”

“Who? The writer??”

“No. Jesus. Do you know where he is?”

Weird noises came from behind the door of dreams. And an array of different colored flashing lights came through the crack. 

“You really don’t know?” Trevor asked him.

“I figured that if he wanted to talk to me that he would come to me. He knows where I am.”

“And you never wanted to talk to him?”

“I did. So many times, Trevor. I just— . . . I never knew what to say to him.”

“Well, I am pretty sure you can guess where he has been.”

“I can?” God asked.

Trevor nodded slowly. 

“. . . Earth–777?”

“And, circle takes the square.”

“What is he doing there?”

“He’s in a band.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. They’re pretty good, too.”

God paused, as if remembering a memory from a long, long, time ago.“Want to come with me?” he finally asked Trevor.

“To Earth–777 to find Jesus?? Of course I want to come! And I have a few other people I want you to see while we are down there. It seems to be spreading, Sir.”

“What’s spreading, Trevor.”

“Hope, Sir. Hope is spreading down there.”


CH 6/11/24



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