The Holy Day of Rest
In truth, God spent most of his week waiting to talk to Marie.
Marie was an old lady God had met a while back. She wore loud floral skirts and sensible shoes. He had quickly grown very fond of her. Every Sunday, on his day off, they sat together in a park, enjoying the weather. Marie liked to do the crossword and God liked to watch the grass grow. Marie was so funny. She always did crazy stuff like have wrinkles. And while God had had an inkling about every fiber of her existence, he chose to learn about her the human way: by asking rudimentary questions like “How about this weather” and “Did you see the new Severance episode?”. Marie was a good conversationalist when she got going. Sure she didn’t talk much, but God was comforted by knowing it was just because she enjoyed silence and not because she didn’t like him.
No one at the office was interesting. Last week God went to the water cooler and ran into the archangel Gabriel. God had been polite and said hi and Gabriel said hi back, but kind of like- exasperated- as if he didn’t want to be there but now he was stuck talking to his boss. God was trying to encourage good workplace relationships so he was like ‘How was your weekend?’ and Gabriel was like ‘Yeah it was good’ and then there was this awkward pause. God took a sip of his water and asked how Gabriel’s wife was doing, but then Gabriel said “Allicia and I are doing a trial separation”, so God was like oh fuck but he couldn’t back out of the conversation now ‘cause that seemed more awkward. So God was like ‘Do you want to talk about it?’, since he thought it was important to at least offer, but that was clearly the wrong thing to say because then Gabriel said ‘Yeah, no yeah, I’d love to talk about my divorce with my boss at the fucking water cooler” and he looked at God like he was crazy, aggressively threw away his water cup and left. And then all God did for the rest of the shift was shred old documents and feel like shit.
That was how most of his conversations at work went. God tried to tell himself that the angels' whispers and odd glances were just because he was their boss- that they were jealous- but he knew the truth. While his office was boring and lonely and shut off from the rest of the cubicles- at least the seclusion meant avoiding embarrassing himself in front of his colleagues.
One Sunday, God was particularly anxious to talk to Marie.
“Marie,” God said, sitting with her on a park bench, “what do you do for a living?”
“Sit on my ass all day,” said Marie, not looking up from her crossword.
God smiled. “What did you do before you retired?”
“I was a park ranger.”
God blinked, “Really?”
“You seem surprised.”
“I kind of am. I guess I picture you more as the secretary type.”
“Wow.”
“No, not like that.” God tried to self-correct. “I just meant I didn’t expect you to have done stuff.”
“Wowwwww.”
“No, no, no, you misunderstand me. I just thought- I just meant that I thought you would have done something very boring because I only ever see you sitting here doing nothing.”
“You’re being very rude.”
“I’m sorry,” God said, feeling like he had mucked everything up. God desperately wished he could snap his fingers and erase the whole conversation.
The two sat in silence for a while.
God loved the park. The sunlight always warmed his skin. The birds always chirped lively in the background. From where he sat, God could see fathers flying kites with their sons. He could see children playing capture the flag. He could watch the grass grow and the branches sway and the flowers bud.
God, of course, being omniscient, could see this anytime he wanted.
He thought it was better like this.
God, once he had regained his dignity, tried again.
“Did you like being a park ranger?”
“I adored it," said Marie.
“Why?” asked God.
Marie thought for a moment. “It was very peaceful. Very quiet,” she added, “I got to be surrounded by life.”
“Aren’t you always?”
“I suppose. But- it’s different.” She penciled in an answer and set down her crossword. “When I was a park ranger. I got to watch everything change and grow. One time, I was doing my normal rounds and this huge elm had fallen. I had heard about it from my colleagues- of course- but I got to see it for myself. A bunch of other plants had been crushed beneath it, and a lot of bird nests had fallen so the birds were all fluttering around, trying to rebuild.”
“And that was good?”
“It was just cool. Impactful.”
God nodded in understanding. Marie picked back up her crossword.
“I’m a, well, I guess you could say CEO”
Marie put down her crossword. “Being a CEO doesn’t seem like something you can guess about.”
“I was just trying to scale it down for you. I’m God," said God, “Creator of the Universe and all that.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Ah,” said Marie.
“Yeah,” said God. “I was just wondering cause- to be honest with you, I’m not that happy with my job right now.”
“God, Creator of the Universe.”
“Yeah. It just feels like I don’t do that much creating anymore.”
“I see.”
“Yeah,” God felt better finally getting that off his chest.
“Well, why’d you become God in the first place?”
“I don’t know…” God shook his head, “It wasn’t really- I didn’t mean to become God, like, God god, like God with a capital “G” god. I mean… I guess I did. I loved the job when I started! I majored in architecture in school, even though my dad disapproved. There was so much I wanted to do and create. I worked so hard for so long and now I’m here and it’s like…” God sighed.
“It turned out differently than you thought?”
“Yes!” His voice boomed so loud that the trees shook. God quickly looked around, embarrassed. “Yes,” he said quieter, “yes, exactly.”
Marie hummed, “That happened to my husband.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “For years he dreamed of having his own store. One with toys and bobbles, knickknacks, candy, and snacks. Something… Something fun and fantastic that he would have loved as a kid.”
“Sure.”
“Right. Well, eventually he did. And it was wonderful. It was so fun to design the store and plan what we would sell. And when business picked up speed- seeing the joy and excitement on kids’ faces was just- it was amazing.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. But you know, the shop became really popular.”
“Isn’t that what he wanted?”
“That’s what everyone wants. To see the things they create flourish. But, I was away a lot. My job was further out in the country so I didn’t get to see the daily how-do-you-do. John eventually told me that he was- he didn’t feel fulfilled anymore because he wasn’t on the ground floor. All he did was sign off on stuff. He wasn’t getting to do the thing he started it for in the first place. He was really sad.”
God felt something heavy settle in his stomach. In the distance, a squirrel was burying some nuts.
“So what did he do?”
“It took him a while but eventually he sold a lot of his shares to a family friend of ours and ended up working the front desk until he died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” God said.
“Don’t be. He was happy.”
“If you want, I could tell you how he is, up there, what he’s doing. Maybe give him a message for you.”
Marie sighed, eyes misty. “That’s alright. I- I appreciate it but I think I’d rather not know.”
God felt at a loss for words, so he stayed quiet. Marie picked back up her crossword and filled in four down.
Someone knocked on God’s office door.
“Come in,” said God.
In strutted the archangel Michael. He was dressed in a sharp Ralph Lauren suit. His long hair: perfectly coiffed, his shoes: perfectly shined. God sighed.
“Hi, Michael.”
“Hello, God.” Michael dropped his weekly stack of papers on God’s desk. It was larger than usual.
“What’s all this?”
“Oh, a few more things for you to sign off on, that’s all.”
God rubbed his eyes. “And what, pray tell, am I signing off on?”
“A war.”
“A war?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember hearing about another war in the works.”
Michael shifted, “Yes well, it’s really rather insignificant.”
“The war.”
“Yes. Nothing worth bothering yourself for.”
God began flipping through the papers. “Who’s involved?”
“The Americans.”
“Weren’t they just in one?”
Michael jutted out his chin. “I don’t recall.”
“They were! They were just in a bunch. They had the one with Iraq and then that cold one and like two in Asia-”
“Those were necessary.”
“For what?”
“Built up to this one.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” God took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why wasn’t I in the meeting about this?”
Michael flipped his long hair over his shoulder. “You’re a busy man. We didn’t want to bother you with something so miniscule.”
God looked at Michael, and then at his almost empty desk, and then at the True Detective episode he had paused on his computer.
“I’ll look over it.”
Michael pulled a fountain pen out of his suit pocket and held it out to God.
“That means I’m not signing it now, Michael.”
The archangel blinked. Michael, having never been dismissed without getting exactly what he wanted, exactly how he wanted it, exactly when he wanted it, was confused. He turned around, walked to the door, opened the door, and left.
“He acts like he runs the place.” God was saying to Marie that weekend. “And it’s so frustrating, you know, 'cause it’s like- I’m God! I am literally God. He’s ousting me, Marie, he’s ousting me.”
“I thought you didn’t like being God.”
“Well yeah but, being unhappy with my job doesn’t mean I want to be disrespected in my own workplace.” God hmphed and slid down in his seat. “It’s just shitty cause it’s like- he’s leaving me out of meetings and not consulting me and then he just expects me to sign off on shit like it’s nooooooo problem. ‘Oh, thanks Michael I’d love to do that for you, do you want me to rub your feet and bring you coffee while I’m at it?’”
“You could always report him to HR.”
“No way, that’s so embarrassing,” said God.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“I don’t know. Some support would be nice,” God mumbled.
Marie patted him on the back “I’m sorry. That’s frustrating.”
“Thanks.”
“What are you going to do about work? I mean, it doesn’t seem like a great environment and you don’t really like your job.”
“I don’t want to quit. I mean- okay that’s not true. It’s just that- I’m God so there’s this responsibility on me and I would feel guilty just putting in my two weeks you know.”
“Yeah but sometimes you have to prioritize your own mental health. That’s why I retired. I loved being a ranger but things started to get super stressful at work when this company wanted to buy the land and -”
“Yeah that’s crazy, Marie,” said God, not listening.
Marie decided to let that one go. It was an important story, with a lot of great advice he could benefit from but whatever. It was fine. God was having a bad day. It was fine.
“What do I do?” asked God.
Marie hummed, “Have you ever heard of quiet quitting?”
It had been two weeks. The plans for the war had not gone through. Michael was not having a good time.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” said God, filing his nails at his desk.
“I want you to sign the paperwork.”
“Michael- I appreciate your dedication to this job. You’re a hard worker. You’re doing great. But you don’t get it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Being god takes a lot of work. These things take time. A war is a delicate matter that I have to thoroughly consider every aspect of,” God pushed back his cuticles.
“He can’t keep doing this,” said Uriel to the other archangels in the break room. “You know the other day, I went and asked if he saw the email I sent him about the next assassination. He said he’d look at it after he took a quick “potty break". 30 minutes pass. So I go into the men’s room. Bro’s just on his phone by the sink. I say, ‘Hey man’. He doesn’t even look up. I say ‘You done in here?’. He says, ‘Yeah one sec’ and then he just kept scrolling. Came out 10 minutes later. Fucking ridiculous.”
Gabriel poured himself a cup of coffee. “Do you know how many extra hours I put in for this war? I missed my son’s baseball games.”
“Isn’t your son in Little League? That’s not even a real team.”
“Well, yeah- I mean I wasn’t going to go but it’s the principle of the thing.”
“We have to do something,” said Raphael.
“Do what? He’s The Boss.”
“He may be The Boss but the universe still needs to run,” said Raphael, “There are a trillion angels who depend on this company for security. He’s a threat to our livelihood!”
The angels all nodded in agreement.
The 30,000th floor of Heaven was God’s favorite. The carpet, made of pretty purple and pink shades interlaced in a fun geometric pattern, ran down long twisting hallways with high ceilings and big windows. The floor hadn’t been used in a millennium. Rumors had spread about it turning into an expanded prayer department, but nothing was happening, so the floor was empty.
Peaceful and quiet, it was a lovely place to linger in. God liked the plastic office plants that lined the walls, and the mini-fountain on the old receptionist's desk made a calming tinkling sound.
On his lunch break, God decided to lie down in front of it and promptly fall asleep.
Michael coughed, pointedly. God didn’t wake up. Michael coughed again. And then he coughed again. And then he coughed a fourth time, as loud as possible.
“You should get that checked out…” God mumbled, stirring on the carpet.
Michael looked exasperatedly at the other angels. “God. We have a problem.”
God rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and peered at the suits above him. “Okay, shoot.”
Michael cleared his throat.
“Gesundheit,” said God.
“Thank you. Look,” Michael rolled back his shoulders, “God, the G-man, Big-G... We all really admire you. You’ve done some great stuff.”
“Like the Elephant!” Uriel chimed in.
“Yes! Like the elephant.”
God began to smile, “The elephant was pretty awesome. I was pretty proud of that one.”
“We all were! I mean, talk about ears,” Michael forced a laugh, “And that’s all great. It’s just- recently- we’ve been worried about your… productivity.”
“My productivity?” said God, still on the floor.
Michael pursed his lips, “Yes, unfortunately, you haven’t been… up to snuff, so to say.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the bathroom,” said Gabriel.
“I’ve been having digestion issues.”
“For an hour?” Gabriel scoffed. Michael put up his hand, stopping him.
“It’s not just your digestion issues, God. Nothing’s gotten done in weeks and frankly- we don’t feel your heart’s been in it for a while.”
“This is because of the war, isn’t it? All because I won’t do your little bidding.”
Michael bristled. “It’s… everything.”
“This is ridiculous!” God roared.
“Is it? Is it, really?”
“Yes!”
“What’s all this then?” Michael gestured at the scene in front of him.
God looked around from his perspective on the floor, crossing his arms, “What.”
“God.”
“No. What.”
Uriel sighed. “This is just sad, man. C’mon, the guy who killed the dinosaurs wouldn’t do this.”
“I-”
“No excuses,” said Michael, “We’ve all talked. You have until the end of the day to clear your desk.”
And with that, the archangels turned, got in the elevator, and left.
God grinned.
That Sunday, God brought Marie pastries from her favorite bakery.
“What are these for?” said Marie, delighted.
“A thank you.”
“Things went well then?”
“Wonderfully,” said God, “I’m free! And all I had to do was gum up the works, just like you said. I came in late, left early, fucked off more than usual. God, you should have seen that prick Micheal’s face when I didn’t sign off on his stupid war.”
“War? What war?”
“Oh,” God waved his hand, “they’ve got this whole plan. It’s so dumb, Marie, you have no idea.”
Marie laughed awkwardly, “Heh, yeah, no yeah I’m sure,” Marie picked at her bear claw, no longer hungry. “Like war with America or…”
“They don’t know how to run a world, I’ll bet you this whole place’ll be shot in a couple of weeks.”
“Wh- what?”
“Oh my god, you should have seen it, Marie. It’s this whole world war with like- they invented this new chemical weapon- it’s cartoonish, it's like if Agent Orange and mustard gas had a baby,” God laughed, shaking his head.
“What!”
“No, I know right, it’s like- the end all be all of wars. And I was thinking about it- here’s what they don’t get- they want to run the world, right? What world is there going to be to run if they nuke the whole thing.”
Marie felt nauseous. She stared at God, lounging on the bench next to her. “But you didn’t sign off on it.”
“Well no-”
“Oh, thank God.”
“-but I’m not running the place now. I don’t have to deal with it. Isn’t that amazing?”
“So, so, that’s it? You’re no longer God, Creator of the Universe?”
“Nope.”
“But you’re going to stay and help, right? Like with the war?”
God took Marie’s hands in his, “Marie, you’re my best friend. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. Your constant support and kindness made me a better man. But I can’t stay here.”
Marie started crying.
God looked around fondly at the park that would soon be destroyed by nuclear missiles. The sun shining on the grass, the flowers swaying in the breeze, the children laughing in the distance. “Everything is about to change. War is just- it’s so stressful, you know? There’s so much to plan and- and- and- yeah plan. Like- all that death and destruction is really a bummer,” God wiped away the tear rolling down Marie’s cheek, “You taught me that sometimes, I need to prioritize my own mental health. And that’s okay. Thank you, Marie.”
God wrapped Marie in a big hug, tucking his chin into her neck. God, he would miss this.
Marie was in shock. She just kind of sat there.
“Goodbye, Marie.”
God smiled, stood up and began to walk out of the park. There was a bittersweetness in the air. He would miss his friend. And soon, so many things he loved - national parks, bakeries, Severance, Marie - would be blown to bits. They would be destroyed in a fiery death or crushed under rubble. If things like bakeries continued to exist, it would only be in the memories of the few survivors of humankind. They wouldn’t be rebuilt because everyone left would be so focused on staying alive in a post-war apocalypse that they’d have to devote all their time to boring things like starting fires. It was kind of sad.
When he got into his car, God had to take a moment to collect himself. He looked out the window of his Subaru at the people on the grass. They were all so small, so happy, so unencumbered by the knowledge of what was to come. God felt guilty in a way. Like this was all his fault. But he forced himself out of his thoughts, shaking his head and starting the engine. Marie was right, he had to take care of himself sometimes. It’s too much to shoulder all this pressure on his own, God had to cut himself some slack.
As he drove on, he tried to think on the bright side. In freelance work, there wouldn’t be any more bureaucratic suits breathing down his neck, no more awkward conversations with colleagues who didn’t like him and didn’t get his vision. There were endless opportunities now, new people, places, and things to make.
He had the world at his fingertips and it was invigorating.
This is equal parts extremely funny, mortifying (God has AWFUL social skills), and depressing (in a good way) to read. A sequel is necessary. Amazing work genuinely so good.
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