God's Own Server

While probing around the vast expanse of hosts on the internet I happened to chance upon a socket that responded to my request for connection.  Little did I know at that point that I was connecting to God's Own Server.  My telnet client hesitated in awe as the ominous text came across:

"This is God.  Bless you, oh curious man.  Now make a SIP connection so we can chat."

So I collected my nerve, made the phone call and said, "Oh, God.  What have I done to deserve your personal blessing?  By the way, thank you."

He (for convenience -- it makes no sense for God to have a gender) replied, "You've sneezed thousands of times and your peers have called on me to bless you on many of those occasions."

"Well, I'll be.  May I ask you things or am I not allowed that kind of knowledge?" was my feeble attempt to take advantage of this rare opportunity.

"Ask, but I already know what you wish to know.  The answer is Vim."

"That's fantastic!  How did you kno... Oh, right.  You're God.  Why didn't I ask something useful, like the meaning of life?"

"If I wanted you to know that, I'd have made you ask it," was His reply in a somewhat playful tone.  "You are a computer professional.  Does it not occur to you that the software you write cannot be aware of the fact that it is executing?  If you give it specific instructions to be aware, they will only work in that one case yet the operating system can still fool it through emulation."

Deep down inside I felt kind of silly.  Indeed, we live through trial and tribulation which would be quite unnecessary if we knew what was going on.  That would imply there is no need for the trial and tribulation.  Hmmm.  Still, I think the entire process is cumbersome and hard to understand.

"No, it isn't," He knew what I was thinking, of course.  "If you cherish the truth above all else and remember that it is my Name, you will have found the answer."

"But people do wonder why there is so much suffering and injustice," I blurted.

"Things are as they need to be," was His sullen response.  "Did it occur to you that you have no way of discerning who is alive and who is just an extra?  Do you now understand what that implies?  I ask not for myself.  That question is your answer."

What I felt could only be described as one of those scenes in a movie where the cameraman fiddles with the lens to make the background expand out of view, leaving the subject isolated and terrified.  Except I wasn't terrified.  A terrific peace blanketed me with the knowledge that what we perceive is for a profound purpose.

If we were specimens engineered by a being more advanced than ourselves then who created them?  There could be a chain of more advanced beings, ad infinitum.

"My dear man, intellect is a useful tool to get by your daily challenges.  It cannot help you with analyzing that which itself is made from," He continued after a brief pause to allow me to digest it.  "I'll share with you this one clue.  Anything that goes on forever can also be expressed as a singularity."

"Wow.  That sure frames it up for me.  I'll never convince anyone else, though," I conceded.

"No need to proselytize.  You already knew all this.  Those to whom this knowledge must reach will get it from the most convenient source.  Sometimes it may be through you but you'll never know when and it won't be when you're trying," said God.

"Okay.  I'll just get back to what I was doing, then.  Thank you, God.  I'm ever grateful," was my sign-off.

"Be you soon," He said lovingly.  Then the connection closed.