excerpt from THE ANSWER

Demarist is hosting a conference, the subject of which is me and my part in the founding of the alien religion. He’s invited all the best available minds in cosmology and philosophy, I know because I also subpoenaed them all to brief me on this “God” subject. To me every one has refused, replying that my lami summons is invalid. Trumped by the “request” of a rookie! Sure he pays better since he has a budget. All I’ve got to offer is promises that sound even to me like bald faced threats. Threats have always worked for me before. Now I have to learn how to be nice!? Fortunately Demarist is young and naive enough to easily believe that it is for the benefit of both of us to combine our parties.

The buffet is laid. The place is filling up with sober conferees.

My old junior research co-worker (what’s his first name? suit?) Demarist arrives at the Launch Lounge Balance VIP with his entourage of a Librarian, very young skinny goggles wearing stick figure, and assorted juniors and liaisons. I recognize several. They ignore me. Demarist is effusive in greeting Space and I. Space remembers him but is wary of his live posse, especially those in the interior pixel camo uniforms. The Librarian acknowledges me with a scowling bow. No handshake.

“Paul,” Demarist goes straight for familiar, “This is Rex Stout, Public Librarian First Class.” This librarian with a dogs name scowls again at my outstretched hand.

“Mr. Dvorak.” His voice is British public school. He hunches and stays at a diagonal to me as if ready to leap away were I to attack.

“Don’t worry I won’t bite. He might” I indicate Space, who doesn’t like him and has activated his doggy suit ETACS. “But I don’t.”

“A bite would be minimal compared to your record with librarians! You’ve killed five of us!” He’s done his homework.

“They died. True. Several were my close friends. But I haven’t ever killed anyone. War is a dangerous business. Declare war and you’re a target. Have you declared many wars Stoat?” You child.

Demarist answers: “This is Rex’s first assignment.” Like a schoolboy Scout reacts: “And your first research.”

Helen arrives live and Rex Stout stares at her like he’s never before seen tits. She thrusts out her chest and wiggles them at him. “OOhh isn’t it hot in here.” Spout turns a blush. She unlink-s more Velcro. I can tell from past experience with her that she is now planning exactly how and when to kick him directly in the groin systems. I contemplate this with anticipation while part of me feels I should save him to destroy later for myself. It would be so easy. I make the introductions.

“Helen Tiberius, Rex Stout, and surely you remember Demarist…” who she has latched onto with a kiss that churns as she devours his lips his face with smacking slurping sound effect. Pulling his hands up unto her breasts she turns him so she can stare at Rex Stout.

“They were always very close.” I aside to Stout who stands bug eyed open mouthed aghast. No handshake for him. Demarist breaks Helen’s vacuum with a cross eyed stagger back to reach for the wall. His hair is messed up, his suit rumpled, he steadies himself. She’s shut down half his lami’s, he’ll have to reboot his suit once he recovers his senses.

We leave them to mingle. Let him research me from afar. Librarians don’t scare me. Alien Gods don’t scare me. Handi-cabs docking, that scares me. Hungry lawyers, scary.

“What do you think about God, Helen?”

“God? Paul you know I’m agnostic Reformed Governmental Atheist. No ‘God is my copilot’ for me.” She makes finger quote marks. “What about you?”

“Dog is my copilot.” It’s amazing how long I’ve known her and we’ve never really talked religion. She has brought it up when an agnostic atheist holiday comes around and she wants a day off, like “International Rationality Day” or “Discount Sale Week!” It must be that those court orders the union imposed on me in my position as her superior that I am “not to offend her atheism” by mentioning or invoking “God” actually have an affect on my behavior. As a swinger sex talk is okay with Helen, but one word of God and she’s calling the shop steward.

My copilot takes us in to the ample buffet for a landing at the chicken bits platter. This “having a budget” thing means good catering. In the line for the waffle bar a fight is breaking out between two groups of theologians. Chevrolet holo calls in to give us a “who’s who” of who’s here in person and by holo call. She has a head up of the conference deck plan with red and blue blips and info tags. Above one list the theme of Demarest’s conference: IS PAUL DVORAK CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THE NATURE OF GOD? This explains the psychiatrists and psychologists who have claimed widely distant corners of separation in the lounge, barely able to tolerate the others presence. I am closely observed back and front analyzed. My title for this event: GOD WHAT IS IT? Helen say’s that sounds like I’ve stepped in something mysterious. No one of the consultants attending knows my theme since they are all Demarest’s paid “guests” and definitely didn’t exactly expect me to be here to hear them talk about my “blah blah intellectual capacity blah.” The heavy theosophical presence leads me to think Demarist intends to make a complete report inclusive of the definition of God, or all definitions, just as I would if I were investigating myself investigating claims of contact with God. That’s why all the rabbi’s, preachers, and mullahs, and monks. So, somebody here has to know what God is. How could they tell if I can find out the truth if none of them know it? To counter the righteous enthusiasm of the preachers and prophets he has packed the room with a cohort of quietly mumbling philosophers who crowd the barista. “Is the nature of God unknowable?” the philosophers kvetch. “Is hinting at it or being enigmatic an indication of knowledge or just faking?” The monks maintain silence. The preachers are certain; I interpret: “Oh can’t tell you…you’re not ready…better donate more money to prove you’re serious…oh well God doesn’t want to talk to you because you haven’t given me enough money…” Even a researchers budget can’t cover such knowledge. “How much money does it take before some one who can’t know can tell you the unknowable?” I ask a squinty Philosopher type. “No one knows.” He speaks the truth. The main foundation of many historically successful religions is that they not reveal the true nature of the ultimate relationship with God until after the ask-er is dead. No refund no returns. If the dogma is wrong complain to God.

Several counter-dogmatic theologians are jostling each other at the buffet, egged on by their holo caller deacons and scholars to insist on exclusive rights to what they each say is the same God. They agree that each is referring to the same one “God” but disagree on what “God” has to say about everything else since. They can agree that one or two particular persons had things to say about alleged actions or motives of God, but cannot agree on what the words mean. Why did they even come here? An active research in acquire mode is a great way to get history to validate their God concept through inclusion or conclusion or refutation. Some religious organizations have not responded to Demarest’s request to participate, the Roman Catholics most absent, fearing a refutation perhaps. The Pope’s have long ignored my demands and threats. No Atheists attend other then Helen. Why would one care? No client of the Governmental recognized personal New Religious category has bothered to put forth a definition of God since of course none is needed to obtain Government subsidy funding and support; what does God really have to do with a love of beer? There are several very loud very angry attendees shouting at everyone that they know all about God and are personally in touch with the deity and for the right amount of money can confuse anyone with doubletalk and bullying until they think it might be true. It’s a battle of clashing charisma’s. They naturally accuse each other of lying and are here only for the attendance fees that Demarest’s suit is so generously disbursing. Maybe they’ll get a convert or two, you never know, and that would be money in the bank for them. Looks to me like Helen is about to convert one of them into a eunuch. Preacher suits are thin in the crotch, big on lighting and sound systems, low on the combat armor. He’s saved by a blasphemous utterance from across the room that he must respond to. She finds more prey instantly amongst the righteous ones attracted to her chest baring flight suit. It’s all so much fun to watch but, I have to know, I need to ask: “What is God?” to anyone I can button hole with no escape.

“A delusional concept.”

“The almighty Father Who Art In Heaven.”

“The forces of nature.”

“The earth Mother.”

“Creator of the Universe”

“A metaphor.”

“A universal conscious that’s accessible by few; being the subconscious’s alpha rhythm.”

“An aspect of human conscious effort to make sense of life.”

“All knowing all seeing.”

“Dead.”

“Fear of the unknown and our struggle to deal with it.”

“Immortal supreme consciousness.”

“Fate and chance.”

“An old guy with glasses and a cigar or maybe a gray haired tall African man, or like maybe a frolicking young woman with flowers in her long hair.”

“I think God is…..is…..um….ah….well….”

“I’m not an atheist but there is no God.”

“The trinity of three. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

“An irrational belief.”

“You tell me…hey, hey.”

“A biochemical seizure disruption of the temporal lobe region of the brain causing elevated pathway reinforcement between the amygdale to temporal lobe.”

“God is love.”

“The spirit of life.”

“Histories most plagiarized brand.”

“Bark! Bark! Yip!” The source of all flavorful chicken bits.

“God is what we see when we go to heaven.”

“The sun of the soltera system, our galactic home.”

“Spirit.” Spirit? “Spirit.” “Spirit?” “YES! SPIRIT!”

“Ha, ha, the government of course!”

“The ultimate arbiter.”

“A….(blah blah blah) coping mechanism.”

“Resonant energy vibration of the cosmic microwave background.”

“Ignorance harnessed for evil.”

“The author of the universal story.”

“Cannot be named or described.”

“A tool to control populations of people.”

“Grace.”

“Nietzsche killed God centuries ago.”

“God is great God is good.”

“Opposite of the devil.”

“I’m an Agnostic.” I want at least a dozen Agnostics on my team as a close debate rational shock squad.

“God is dog backwards.”

“Hollywood.”

“The life of the party!”

“I dunno?”

“Ex deo awareness growing.”

“The paradigm.”

“Quien savy?”

“Change.”

“What is God?… You ask what is God!… Ask God!… Only God knows God!”

And so I shall. This bunch of Godly con men and grant hacks are playing it safe. No real ‘out there’ answers are popping up worth the amount of scornful silences. I have trouble believing any of these people know what they are talking about when it comes to reality let alone an abstract dialectical concept. The ones that won’t talk are the scared smart ones. I should try an get them all scanned with a green apples array and hire a couple thousand clerks to sift through all the bullshit for a year or two. That would separate the bull shitters from the truth. If only I had a budget!

Just then, I myself am cornered by an angry Jungian psychiatrist that has broken off from the pack of bearded tweeds gathered near the salmon and crab.

“Be careful researcher you’re playing with fire here. Humanity is caught in the midst of an unconscious psychic epidemic of a malignant egophrenia. A dualistic cultural mass hallucination capable of anything. Capable of tremendous evil in the perpetuation of deep lies.” He jabs his cellulose plate piled high with lab crab at me.

“I intend to report all the lies I can get.” This is truth.

“You will report a history that lies to itself!” He sputters buttered breath. I say let upset overfed Jungians lie.

“What is happening is the unconscious of the masses is shaping the world through mass hysteria!” It’s a mess of masses alright! He nods agreement with himself. Helen nods agreement.

“This an epidemic of a scale not seen in centuries!” “God? or get the fuck out!” I tell him firmly.

“God is a symptom of the egophrenia that has history in its grip!” “Next!” We move beyond the gestaltic schadenfreude.

‘God is whatever you want God to be.” “I want God to be document-able verifiable with corroborative evidence of existence.” Is that possible?

Suit! Note to self: Read Hume then reread Hume!

“Man is God incarnate. Life aware is God alive.” “What?”

“What? Not Who?” “Or He? Or Her?”

“Are you not afraid of God?” “Are you?” “Yes.” “That’s what scares me.” People who are deathly afraid of ‘God’ are capable of anything. This fear can be focused through lies like a cultural weapon. This is the cause of war. Fear of others Gods. Fear of this influence on culture makes history. So far no direct comment from God on history. Does He read the reports from senior researchers?

“God communicates with us by floods and earthquakes and hurricanes and tornadoes and tsunamis and mudslides and volcanoes…” “Sounds like not much good to say huh? But, if you have not been hit by a tremendous natural catastrophe does that mean He’s not talking to you?” She blinks at me idiotically.

“You should thank God every day he has not destroyed where ever you are that day.”

“What about night?”

“Especially at night!” She’s safely holo call company distant from my heresy We exit her sensory dialog cone.

“Did you see the entvid series? You know… 'God'… on entvid? They had five or was it six…or…more…episodes...it showed all about God… I watched some of them… great entertainment. You didn’t catch it then? Oh too bad… you’d a had your answer now.” We narrowed his transmit bandwidth with distance.

The ontologist stared hard at me.

“Omnipotence…” I met his eyes imploringly…”…is a very wide subject…covers just about everything?” He does not flinch.

“Could an omnipotent being create something so heavy God its holy self could not be able to pick it up? Could an omnipotent being change the past? Why should an omnipotent good God allow evil. Theodicy anyone? Is this not the best of all possible buffets? Where do I put my counter-factual subjunctive conditionals? Is omnipotence bound by any laws of nature? Exactly how did Anselm fuck it up?”

“I think you’ll need an epistemologist for that.”

“Ooh sounds painful.” “It usually is.”

“God is inherently mysterious, unfathomable, unknowable, so to seem close to God people seek out the most incoherently confusing self professed personal conductive spokesperson of God. The more hard to understand the message the more scrambled the jargon-ed dogma the more out of fashion the ancient names the more it will be unquestioningly believed for truth. The more unlikely the event the more miraculous the ideation. Popularly personalize a force of nature action of change with a sub textual string of sounds and the mind of man will hear a name for God.” That thought makes him chuckle. He turns conspiratorial.

“Make a vague announcement of a particularly exciting religious revelation and then let others create the religion around this kernel in a conjectural cascade. Thus holy books write themselves through the human need to even subconsciously fill the blanks in the story to the best of the ability of the collective imagination. Better yet make up a person to experience this or even pick some chump and make up stuff about him. A real person is better for immediate marketing of the conjectures. The subject could even deny it all. A successful religious cascade wipes away the true relative past anyway. Dangerous though, often ends tragically with persecution and execution for the founder-victim.”

“I’m becoming familiar with that very scenario.” And here he recognizes me. That’s me: victim of rolling conjecture. Rumor does kill on its way downhill to God. A drunk epistemologist in a stained elbow patched scanty systems resort grade commuter suit could be fun to hang out with to mock reality together. He spots the Librarian staring at me from amidst a combat squad of documenting military intelligence assault troops and the smart epistemologist flees to beyond camera range. I get the same urge to flee.