Déjà Vu

“Who are you?” asked the perplexed naked man standing before Him. “My name is Dr. G. O’Donnell, but those who know me call me God.”

“Why have you come here God?”

God, undaunted by His creation’s inquiry, nevertheless paused for a moment to articulate the correct response.

Certainly the truth — that He was the sole survivor of a world decimated by His species’ own greed, ego and reckless abuse of technology — was beyond the comprehension of His creation, whom He had willfully made ignorant of artifice, cataclysm and man’s own worst tendencies. In any event, the truth lent God little credibility, so He decided to tell a little white lie.

“I am The Creator, The Supreme Being. I am omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent. I have put you here to enjoy the infinite bounty this world has to offer, and the house rules are quite simple: do not kill, steal or covet another man’s possessions and never eat the fruit from that tree over there. Otherwise, anything goes.”

“God, where are these other men you speak of?” asked Adam, still bewildered.
“Well Adam, would you mind if I might borrow one of your ribs?”

And so man on Earth came to be, and in their blissful ignorance Adam and Eve enjoyed the infinite bounty the world had to offer. They loved God, who had left them nothing to want for. Things were going quite swimmingly indeed – until the day they decided to indulge in the forbidden fruit and a raucous tryst in the brush. Needless to say, God was a tad miffed.

“What did I tell you about the tree?” He fumed. “I’m afraid you kids are on your own now.” And with that, He cast Adam and Eve from their Eden and into the barren periphery, consigning them to a life of toil and hardship.

In spite of their new lot, Adam and Eve flourished. Procreating as only rabbits might, they began to populate the Earth, ultimately bearing thirty-three sons and twenty-three daughters.

As more generations passed, mankind began to devote its creative faculties toward solving life’s practical problems, constructing simple farms and later resplendent cities.

It discovered science and arithmetic, developed the written word and engineered the means to utilize all of the world’s gifts.

Humanity was doing quite well for itself and, despite the hard feelings, continued to exalt its creator and His principles.

Nonetheless, cracks formed in the foundation. As the human race grew exponentially larger, so grew its arrogance, ambition and lack of empathy. Even while procuring the wealth and technology to conquer all the world’s sufferings – poverty, hunger, disease, warfare – it turned these abilities toward exacerbating them and creating more in kind.
Enjoyment of the natural goods that God had once furnished for human use turned to sheer exploitation; meanwhile, mankind occupied itself with seemingly endless conflict – abandoning the cardinal principle “thou shalt not kill” – often over who could lay claim to God’s favor.

Discouraged by what He saw, God could not help but avert his gaze. He was all but dead to humanity, as was humanity to Him.