I knew he had something in his thoughts, something he wanted to spit out. I stayed quiet, allowing him time. Funny, God needing time.
“Time is, always has been irrelevant, Rob.”
“How so?” I lifted my mug, let the coffee waft just under my nose, waiting.
“Time is nothing more than a tool. A tool to measure, and like any tool, when the job is done, the tool becomes irrelevant.”
I expressed my understanding with a simple “Ahhhhh” and took a long slug of my coffee.
“I’ve been thinking, Rob. Tell me, what are your thoughts on violence? Why was the species so violent?”
“Didn’t you give that to us as a basic survival trait?”
“I did, but I also gave you what I thought was the intelligence to spare the need for violent behavior when it wasn’t needed.”
God took a long slug of his own mug and looked out the café window. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was contemplating as the Universe sped by. He turned back to stare at me, “I can’t help but wonder if the violence stems from a rage and anger with me?”
I had been setting relaxed. Quickly, I furled my brow in a question, and sat my mug on the Formica, “Why would I be angry with you?” not quite understanding the question. The tank saw my cup resting and walked behind the counter for the decanter.
“Because most children foster an anger with their parents for one reason or another.”
“Most children outgrow that anger.”
God stroked his beard, nodded, “Perhaps you’re the child that never grew up.”
The battle ax poured my coffee, and interjected “For my two cents, I had a lot of fun mixing it all up.”
God smirked, “I suppose you did.” watching the waitress move on.
“Maybe it was something else, maybe it was just fear.” I said.
“A scared little species, afraid and angry at everything. I could almost buy that.” God again looked away from the booth, out the window where a giant nebula was spouting light years of beautiful, colorful gases as if she were a lighted water fountain in the dark night. God started tapping his forefinger in rhythm to some music only he could hear, than stopped and returned to the conversation. “But I don’t. Being angry and scared isn’t good enough to account for an entire existence of war, corruption, and abuse directed toward not only yourselves, but the entire universe. There were others who were born angry and scared, but they grew up, they learned how to conquer their fear, how to address their anger, but you, you I don’t understand.”
“Interesting, I’m not necessarily angry or scared at the moment. I don’t remember living a life full of anger and fear, God.”
“Then why all the violence? Were you just too lazy to do the hard work and talk about solutions?”
“Lazy? We spanned our galaxy, we built something, accomplished something. We had our times of peace, we weren’t all lazy, angry and scared.”
God tilted his head in playful astonishment, “I’d say that what you built was a legacy of violence, made all the more disturbing by your inability to figure out why you were so violent.”
A little swell of that anger twisted my gut, and God smiled at that. I grimaced, and forced it away.
“That wasn’t all that hard, was it?” knowing a residual turn of the twist remained. “Perhaps it was my fault, perhaps there just wasn’t’ enough in the realm of consequences for your violence.”
I looked at God, tilted my head in astonishment, and ended the topic, “I’ll buy that.”
God smiled, and the heavy set women with hair knotted in buns stood up from the table she was wiping down, and gave another two cents, “At least I’m not being blamed for everything.”