“Ok sir, it’s time for the annual report for the year 1882 AD.” Jim said.
Although having what you and I would call a regular human name, Jim was everything but a human. Jim wasn’t even his name, and he wasn’t a he or she; Jim was simply something.
The only reason I’m calling him Jim and why Jim is “he” is the fictional requirement to introduce a character. Jim’s real name isn’t pronounceable with just a tongue, teeth, and a set of lips.
Next, I must explain where “Jim” is and also what “Jim” is.
You see, “Jim” has a steady job in the Department of Information in what’s probably the oldest company in the universe. This company has been around for some time. In fact, the company has been around for such a long time that nobody even remembers when the company wasn’t around. Also, its boss wasn’t just any boss; its boss was the Boss, with the most capital B you’ve ever seen. Jim’s boss was god.
I know, you’re probably thinking I should write god with a capital G, but more about it later, in part 2. (P.S. Don’t skip).
Jim’s main project is creating annual reports about the great events that happened in the previous year and reporting to the Boss. Since we’re talking about human years, you can guess that Jim’s reports are about Earth.
Why does Jim have the job? Because even god gets lost in a bureaucratic mess if someone doesn’t organize the data.
Now, let’s witness such an annual report.
“Hello there, sir. This is the report for the Earth year of 1882 per human logic. It seems that humanity finally figured out how to deal with tuberculosis. If you remember my previous reports, they had trouble solving that one. It was invented by a human named Robert Koch.” Jim gave his first report.
God gave the report a thought, fixed their oversized glasses, and joyfully said:
“So my beloved humans have finally figured it out, although I must say, I am slightly disappointed. I thought they’d learn after the plague happened. As I always say, you can’t overdo it with hygiene. No need to be too paranoid, either. Just wash your hands, wash your food, that’s it. You always have to go into hard details with these people. You tell them to love each other, but the second you turn your head the other way, they slaughter each other. I am cool but I can’t…”
“Eh, sir, sir, I apologize for interrupting, but can we continue with the report? I need to go home. You see, my wife and I are celebrating our 3000th anniversary so it’s kind of a big thing for me.” Jim said in a respective voice.
“Ahhh, yes. How is Linda these days?” God asked.
(WRITER’S NOTE: Of course, god didn’t actually use the name “Linda”. Again, it’s for the descriptional purpose.)
“Fine sir, can we please continue?”
“Sure, sure. Carry on.” God gave the command in a strict but nonchalant fashion. Something only a god could pull off.
Jim continued. “If you also remember, last year, a human called Thomas Edison created the first electric lighting system that uses overhead wires . This year, they built the first commercial electric plant”
“Well, that’s not too interesting. It’s not like I haven’t told them ‘Let there be light’ millennia ago. You know, when I first said the line, I didn’t mean it as a statement; ‘Let there be light’ and puff, the sun appears, job well done. I meant it more as a hint: ‘Humans! Let there be light!’ – I can’t have the sun on both sides at the same time… I mean, I can, but then the logistics…”
“Sir, my wife, really. She will be mad if I don’t get home on time. Allow me to jump to the influential deaths recap.” Jim pleaded in a desperate but calm and polite way. Something only a subordinate could pull off.
“All right, who’s joining the ranks?” God asked.
“Current souls waiting to be accepted in the afterlife until a new story has been assigned to them are the souls of Charles Darwin, Richard Wagner, and quagga, amongst many others.” Jim reported.
“Quagga? Who the hell… I mean, who the heaven is quagga?” God asked.
“Do you remember when you gave the initial zebra and horse blueprints to the design team, but Peter, who at that time had just started working as a junior designer, mixed the blueprints, so we ended up with an animal that was something between the two? You were mad, but later, you thought the animal was cute, so you approved.”
“Now I remember! So no more quagga? Also, whatever happened to Peter, by the way?”
“No, no more quagga sir. As for Peter, the last thing I know is he moved to the Border Security Department. He has some friends on the other side, so this was an opportunity for him to spend more time with them. He was never a good designer anyway.” Jim answered and continued with the influential births recap – “As for the influential souls that have returned to Earth to start a new story, some of them are James Joyce, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Ion Antonescu, Virginia Woolf…”
God let his/her/its thoughts dance a little and then asked:
“Joyce? Oh, you mean the guy who’ll write that book where a guy spends an entire day wandering around Dublin, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time? You know, the one where a single sentence goes on for pages, and by the end, you’re not sure if you’re enlightened or just in desperate need of a nap?”
“Erm, I guess sir. To be honest, I haven’t read it yet.”
“Oh yes, of course Jim, I apologize for that. Continue on.”
“Virgina Woolf will write about dinner parties and existential crises. Franklin D. Roosevelt will deal with Great Depression, and Ion Antonescu will grow up to become as humans like to put it, a dick.” Jim gave the recap while nervously tapping the floor with his right foot.
“Jesus Christ Jim, take it easy! You need to realize it gets hard to put all of this together when you know everything: the past, the present, and the future. Add countless parallel universes and I’d like to see you try handling all of this. For your information, do you know that this Ion that you like to call a dick in another universe invents the washing machine? He’s actually a pretty cool guy there. No fascism and all that “exterminate a group of people as if they were quaggas” stuff; just good old washing machines. They are pretty good, actually, and at one point, I was thinking of buying a Benito myself.”
God took a big breath, fixed their glasses once again, and asked. “Anything else to report?”
“Well, yes, sir, but this one is kind of inappropriate…”
“Spit it out Jim. Linda is waiting.”
Jim hesitated, then finally blurted. “Friedrich Nietzsche wrote ‘God is Dead’… everywhere.”
The glasses on god’s nose started shaking. “What did he write?! HE WROTE I WAS DEAD??!!”
———————————————————————————
The story will continue in part 2.