Theology 6

He was standing.

He was standing at the door.

That was, of course, impossible. I saw him ascend to that ship in the sky on TV a couple of decades ago, never to return. As did a large part of the world's populace.

He was wearing a disguise, and he was older than I remembered, but I've known him since we were little kids. It was Barry. No disguise could hide that from me.

When I opened the door he just came in. He didn't wait to be invited. He'd never been to my house before, not since I'd moved, but he walked straight to the living room and sat down on my couch. I followed him, too stunned to speak. How did he know where my house was? An abrupt entrance after a decades long absence but, he's Barry so I didn't say anything.

He looked older than I remembered, of course, I hadn't seen him in almost two decades. He looked fit, he looked healthy, but totally, utterly defeated. Depressed. He looked at me, and I saw infinite depth of trouble in his eyes.

“Barry, what happened? How are you here?” I suppose I should have said something more intelligent, but that's what I said.

He just continued to look at me for two, maybe three heartbeats. He hung his head, and tears started to fill his eyes. “Slither, I was wrong. So totally wrong.”

He started to make muffled sobs. His shoulders shook.

A thousand questions pummeled my brain, but I figured he need some time to get his thoughts straight. So I waited until the sobs stopped and he regained some composure. Then he started to speak: quietly, slowly, but quite clearly.

“Slither, I was wrong. It lied to me. It lied to me. He, she it … whatever. It was all a lie. Sort of.”

He paused. I waited a couple of beats for him to continue, when he didn't I said,“You mean the … thing … that took you away didn't create us after all?”

He answered me slowly and deliberately. “No. It did create us. We are an engineering project. It didn't lie to me about the things it told me. It lied to me about the things it didn't say. The stuff it didn't tell me. He...she...it did create us, but not just for the love of engineering.”

“Why then were we created?”

He looked at me. He said, “What's happened to the people who were following me? When I left, you recall, there were a lot of people claiming I was the messiah, even though I told them otherwise. What happened to them?”

I suspected he knew the answer, but I answered him anyway. “They balkanized. They started arguing over the smallest of trivia. They separated into multiple camps and attacked each other viciously. Sometimes rhetorically, sometimes with weapons. Sometimes people died. They are now pretty deeply entrenched, and the hatred runs deep.”

Barry nodded. “Predictable. I was too naive to know, but it was predictable. “

I looked at him blankly.

Barry said, “What do you know about dog fighting?”

“Nothing. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Barry looked at me. “The owners of these animals breed them for viciousness. Eventually, they are encouraged to do battle with their peers, sometimes to the death. Money is wagered, and the owner of the victor is financially rewarded. Although they are vicious, their viciousness has to be somewhat tempered so that their handlers can interact with them and not get bit. The sweet spot.”

I started to go cold as I realized where he was going with this. “You mean we were made ...” and Barry interrupted me.

“He – she -it – was both an engineer and a trainer. It got bored. There was nothing left to do to improve us. We got along well enough to be able to work together to make better & better weapons. It … or maybe they ... brought me into it in the hope that I could further fragment things, and reach the critical mass necessary to cause us to wipe each other out. I think bets are being taken on when that will happen, and the specific means of our self annihilation.”

He began sobbing again. I didn't know what to say.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. “Please get me some clothes, my size hasn't changed. I haven't slept in two days. The clothes I'm wearing are worn out.“ He walked to the guest bedroom and collapsed into bed.

I collected my things to head out to the local shops, my mind churning. I haven't spoken to Debbie in many years, but maybe we could arrange a peace conference between the various sects. She's in touch with a lot of leaders, always in furtherance of personal financial gain, but they are all willing to talk to her. She's managed to maintain good relations with almost every one of them. Maybe there is hope. Maybe we can do something. Barry is back. Maybe, just maybe, he can work a miracle.