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This is about an atheist scientist who mathematically disproves the existence of a God (I am not an atheist; so many people assume this!!!!!)
Out of everything I've ever written, this is my best work.
My day begins when I wake up. According to the clock, I’m late for the assembly in the stadium where I talk to more people about more crap I knew that everyone else was too stupid to realize a month and a half ago. Without taking a shower, I hurriedly pick a suit that’s not even nice to wear and rush through my ill fated morning. Right leg through right pant leg, left leg through left pant leg. Actually, I don’t even know if that’s it because I didn’t pay attention to which side of the pants the tag was on. Erasing that from my mind, I conclude that I just need to get out of the door, and all that matters is if I went to the bathroom or not.
The hazy sky looks about as pale as the terrain. It appears that today, the sun was also a late sleeper. With a sigh, I venture outside and bring the window scraper with me. The real Elwood Boyle still feels tired, still hibernating in that luxurious king-sized bed chamber. I begin the loathsome process of vehicle preparation in the chilly winter season. My fingers freeze, almost as if the blood inside the veins across my fingers is becoming solid, despite that I am wearing high-maintenance gloves. Although I cannot waste any more time, I sit down inside the SUV, warming my digits, seeing little harm in the situation. As I do this, I think to myself and evaluate the consequences of this dawn. Part of me decides that I should just forget what I’m doing if there’s nothing in the day that I should care about.
I shut off the heat and silence the car engine. If I had kept going, I could have arrived there only fifteen minutes behind schedule. There was no purpose, no potential at all in organizing this speech. The itinerary planned for today was my last concern. I wedge my hands in my pockets and walk up the driveway in a position as if I am wearing a straightjacket. I glance in the attended portion of the car’s front window, questioning the mirrored perspective. It emulates my solitary gait with taunting detail. I want demolish that posing reflection.
This impulsive violent idea entices my feeble patience. I access the garage and meet paths with a small industrial hammer. Quickly, I return to my neglected vehicle. With endless frustration, I let out a loud cry and break the useless, mocking windshield. Triangular pieces of glass encased in robes of frost shatter and sparkle like snowflakes. These elegant shards sparkle with beauty and reflect the sun that has just begun to arise between parting clouds. I keep smashing the edges the windshield with remaining unbroken material, only hungering for more to destroy. My breath is heavy and visible in the low temperature. On my left wrists, a few cuts had formed on that were imperceptible at the moment I took them in. Some blood pools inside of them, and I respond by licking my dry thumb and rubbing them to soothe the pain, albeit mild.
A nimble rabbit spots me in this noisy scene, takes interest, judges me, and scurries away. Why is that an archetypal instinct to attempt flight from the inevitable death of such a petite, powerless creature? In its last few moments of life, why does it choose to run in fear when death is only a few creeping moments away from capture? Has the hare ever thought to be bold and stand straight in its still structure, in all its glory, for its final breath? Why does it continue to run when there is no escape?
I unlock the door, walk through house, listening to the lonely echoes of my footsteps and observing the clouded dirty watermarks my shoes leave on the perfect floor. Finally, I reach the lavender bedroom. The colors sing me back to sleep. I hear them, and I can hear nothing else. It is as if I lie down in this world alone and solitary in a state of flux, numb and half-awake, resting until the world’s end awakens me, serving as some sort of figure to be glanced at and then passed by like a statue in an important museum exhibit. My imagination no longer inhabits my body as it drifts off into space for what seems like eternity. In my bed I lay for hours, not dreaming of anything at all besides an empty slumber. Perhaps this is how it would feel to be—
A strident alarm abruptly intercepts my reverie. It’s my cellular phone. Lazily reaching over, I realize that it is Lucius who called me. As common courtesy, I return his call. The line barely rings before he picks up. I listen, not quite wide awake, to his rambunctious rambling.
Lucius scolds, “Elwood, are you on your way? I haven’t seen your SUV yet, and they’re all here. They’re all waiting for you.”
In a tired monotone, I respond, “Tell them I’m not coming.”
“What?! People have driven from miles, and you know you’re very responsible. These people are magnets, and they are attracted to you and your discoveries. You’ve corrected their vision from the mirage we’ve believed since history was documented on paper. They’ve flocked like birds to our assembly to hear your reasoning. Only you can do this, Elwood.”
“No. You’re more qualified.”
“Is this some kind of joke? What would you expect me to do?”
“Tell them to pray.”
“But you’ve proven-“
“All I’ve proven is that if there ever was a God, we—No, I killed Him. I am not coming because no one is coming for me. They are coming to hear a requiem for their savior. The only faith humanity had, I’ve tried to drive away by striving for too much knowledge. I finally understand it now. Having something to tell us right from wrong, somewhere to whisper your hopes to, a well for your greatest wishes, strength to overcome life-destructing hindrances and obstacles… That tome of oracles they call the Bible is just as important as any laws of physics or numbers. Religion isn’t about what’s created how and what isn’t. There is no contradiction that religion makes the human a more delicate, domestic, docile being. Lucius, you are a holy man. You’ve been trained to preach and to make people pray. In a time like this, there’s not another option. Now, go show them what you can do. Even I will chant with you…in prayer…pleading for forgiveness for making a fool out of myself. Our race needs to be saved.”
“So surely, it would take some effect into the crowd and regain faith?”
“Surely… Why do words of such assertion smack so much uncertainty when spoken? Not surely, Lucius. Assuredly. Assuredly, our God will return for us. When he does, I, too, will come back a new man.” A bit of short silence follows this.
“Okay.”
I hang up. His final words fully confirm to me that he believes and understands me like a true companion. Wise men need not ask questions. Wise men perform actions. I was a smart man. I am ready to become wise.
I get on my knees and bite my lip.
“Can you hear me?” I mutter in a sheepish tone. I know that the motionless air in the master bedroom that I speak to will not provide coherence. I reiterate my statement louder, almost shouting, my voice cracking like a fissure. Emotions inside of me react virulently from my heavy past burdens and disbeliefs that have disgraced the world. They are exiled from my body and exit my mind and soul condensed as sincere salty crystalline tears through my true, lucid blue eyes.
Bittersweet flavors of this moment fade the colors of the scenery to a somber grayscale and decrescendos natural sounds to null. Everything is sucked into a vortex of silence like a vacuum. It allowed me to meditate internally and only focus on one thing in my mind. Although nothing else is present in the room besides me, it seems like the air and all swathed in it was providing something its full attention, waiting for any response, whether it would be the quiet dropping of a pin or a big man barging through the fancy door.
Suddenly, some power, some slow-pulsed frequency in my mind tells me that there is a very subdued presence in distant skies. I put my palms together and believe. I put all my trust in that starving, neglected slice of modernly forbidden hope. With all of my might, willing to sacrifice every material asset to my glorified name for one chance to regain prosper, even if everything isn’t enough, I prepare my position.
I pray.
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