From a certain point onward all emphasis, in reality, had been placed upon one question.
What would happen when God would wake up?
The “when he would wake up” and the «how he would wake up» had been set aside as unsubstantial and indifferent questions; as for the «why he would wake up» no one even bothered giving it a second thought.
The wisest of the wiser conducted a simulation, of which the details are not, probably, worth mentioning.
Of course, beyond a given level, there is no substantial difference, whatsoever, between a “simulation” and an “actual event”. And, most certainly, the wisest of the wiser knew that very well. Ergo the futility of the earlier question on the modality of God’s awakening.
The experiment was successful.
God wakes up.
And, surprise surprise, it’s you. Yes, you, the person that is reading these lines at this very moment. This is no wordplay; this is no manner of speaking. It’s you and only you, literally.
You didn’t expect that; Come on now, please.
The writing was on the wall and indelible ink was used to make sure that it would stay there.
Anyway, forget now about writings and walls.
Take a look around you.
A corridor, you down on the ground on one of its sides, in the fetal position.
Feel the cold marble on your behind and take the decision to stand up.
Walk towards the only visible exit, straight ahead and to the right.
Now, walk through the little archway passage (can you see the elaborate decorations / depictions of winged creatures on its roof?) and go out to the garden.
Take a breath. The first trial is just ahead of you
Like the blurry reflection of a half-forgotten nightmare, a faceless being rushes against you brandishing a sword. The being’s attire reminds you vividly of a Crusader. The only thing is that what is lurking under its hood is the absolute void, the blackness of the perfect absorption, the face (literally) of Nothing.
Will you retreat, will you hold your position or will you march, defiantly, against it;
What kind of God would you be if you wouldn’t pick the latter option?
At the moment of your collision (i.e. the collision between the One and the Void) the sword and the being that is holding it are dissolved in an infinite number of little pink soap bubbles, which burst in front of your amazed divine eyes; initially one by one and at a slow pace and then at the fastest pace and many by many. In the end there is nothing left in the atmosphere but the prevailing feeling of a fine sparkling wine.
[Everything times Nothing in theory (i.e. as long as Everything hesitates to confront Nothing) is always equal to the virtual existence, meaning the non-existence, meaning Zero. Nevertheless, when Everything descends into the arena, then It ascertains that the encounter against Nothing is redundant. Meaning: Everything is One και Everything is Nothing are One and the Same thing.]
You have successfully completed the first trial.
(From now on, no more imperative form).
You walk towards the fountain that is found in the centre of the garden. A very simple stone construction which, gently and almost silently, is jetting water. It seems that when you look at it straight you think of all the things that you can think of; simultaneously. But this could drive crazy even God Almighty, right? That’s why you change your glance to a somewhat sidelong one, instead.
It works, indeed. You now find yourself in a path descending, in a snake-like manner, a hill amidst a wonderful landscape where gold and green are the predominant colours. Dusk time is closing by and the sidelong fashion in which the sun rays are beaming on your face reminds you of the way you were looking at that fountain a little bit earlier on.
It is time for the second trial.
As you go down the hill, your gaze gradually focuses on the tiny figure which appears to be standing a little further down the road from the point that the path becomes flat. As the figure is gradually obtaining shape and characteristics, you are left with no choice but to admire the spectacle that is being revealed in front of your divine eyes.
It’s the girl of Change.
Now you are standing next to her. She is wearing a little flowery white dress, in her tawny hair there is a pink marshmallow-coloured ribbon and she is looking at you straight in the eye, smiling.
Your divine heart is flooded by an indescribable happiness; the kind of happiness that is so complete that not even you, yes, not even you can handle.
The girl of Change has a question for you.
«Do you know where and when the Princess flower grows?»
The overflow of your tear glands that leads to a full liquefaction of your visual field is the most convincing proof that you have successfully completed the second trial.
You come around with a headache (even God has headaches). You wipe off your tears. You look up. A dull sky with a grey colour of impeccable homogeneity covering its every spot. You look around you, on the ground level. You find yourself in a deserted, dirty, typical back alley of an indeterminable metropolis. Bricks and concrete, overflowing trashcans and a foul smell of rottenness compose a scenery to which your divine senses deny to adapt. You are all but motivated to move towards the only visible exit, straight ahead and to the right.
You find yourself in an avenue. Grey, dull vehicles, above the ground level, on the ground level and possibly, judging from the hum and trembling going on under your feet, below the ground level as well as grey, dull, faceless people are passing you by; hurriedly, indifferently, as if they cannot perceive not even the slightest indication of your presence.
Is it so, though;
You cross one, two, five, ten, thirty, one hundred identical roads, with identical atmosphere and identical residents.
Towards whichever direction you choose to go, an endless loop is lurking.
The doors of the buildings are locked; their windows are shut.
Greenery (parks, trees, bushes, plants) is nowhere to be found; same for water; same for sun light. The only differentiating element in this city is numbers. Building number 1, number 2, number 3… Street number 1, number 2, number 3… Person number 1, number 2, number 3… (the numbers are written in black on the back of their grey overcoats as well as on the upper part of their grey hats).
Nothing is nothing compared to This; thought of the divine mind.
Can God become desperate, what do you say;
God, can you trap yourself, can you get yourself checkmated, can you paint yourself in the corner, incapable for any further move whatsoever;
Can you, God, recall a decision that you yourself have declared as definitive and irrevocable;
Hey, of course you can, this is you we’re talking about, God, right;
Hmmmm… does «I cannot» exist as an option for God; Does «I don’t want» exist as an option;
Who poses these questions; And who can answer them;
Oh my God, who can do that;
One last question:
When was the last time that something, anything, happened and you didn’t live it?
You exist. The concession of your divine rights and obligations (the two notions are identical) is a decision you made. You didn’t know before, alright, you are justified (a little). Now you know.
The price of the realisation of all the above is invaluable; it cannot be compared to anything else.
You and only you exist.
And now, we are warmly urging you (we are made of a slow-burning fire), wake up.
Wake up, so that we too can exist.