The secret God's society.

The secret God’s society.

“Kranoor, you haven’t changed a bit, or is that a new body you have there? Project yourself forward so I can scan you. You kraal-dog, you did the deed. So what’s the infra-structure guaranteed  for?”

Kranoor acknowledged that indeed was the case

“I notice you’ve upgraded your sensors too, Miitow. Can I get a set teli-ported?”

Two old friends were coming together and waiting for the rest of the team to manifest. Ten beings had been looking after the universe for a few million years and every fifty thousand years or so they came together, not because they were out of touch with each other, but just because they decided to. 

They were a secret group because although they didn’t hide their presence, the ordinary beings going about their games couldn’t comprehend their existence. Occasionally, a person would transcend his imposed limitations and sense they were with the divine. It manifested as an itch on the butt of one of them and eliminated with a scratch from a celestial finger. However, the temporary state led to the formation of zealots, often decked out in colourful robes. These adherents were endeavouring to emulate their new Leader’s experience although with a corresponding lack of practical initiatives in their own personal lives and requiring heavy contributions from interested ‘camp’ followers.

The Officiating Gods in question were not naturally addicted to benignness but could set in motion an irritation between the inhabitants they oversaw to relieve the boredom of unbounded ability. Of course, with the abilities they possessed, they could easily have willingly embraced any state of existence, but as they discussed among themselves sometimes, ‘What the hell, fuck em.’ Even for Gods sometimes, there was a deliciousness in bathing in a kind of irresponsibility of denying their ultimate creations.  

Kranoor was going through a period of being offside with his own omnipotence and had resorted to the illusion of utilising another’s crafted abilities to refashion his own infrastructure. He suspected in a couple of million created years, he would dissolve himself into a form of ‘nothingness’ at that ‘future’ time of his creation. He suspected, like the others, he had not really come to terms with eternity, in spite of the ludicrousness that there was an eternity. Unless there was creation, there was nothing. Not nothingness, no, nothing. Nada. Rien.Nichts. But planning right now with the others was in the offing.

“Milonsee, your Andromeda section must have amused you. How many worlds were destroyed by the ‘Upstart?’ Or, did you do it?”

“Not at all, you could say I laid back and let them get on with it. I did interfere a little for a giggle. The ‘Upstart,’ as you call him, blew himself up with that ‘Galaxy Decimator.’ I had him come back on the opposite side and I extended his life for thousands of years in a poverty type existence trying to rectify the havoc he was instrumental in bringing about. I’ll say this for him, he didn’t shirk his perceived duty. Naturally, he's a prick to live with, like most so-called reformers.”

“And what about you, Vanop, I noticed that your Vega system is no more, did you get pissed off, or something?”

“Absolutely not, Kranoor. It was wonderful. I’d quite forgotten that our live inhabitants were given God-like qualities if they could ‘unearth’ them, and some of them did. They mastered longevity and the manipulation of matter. They didn’t mean to do it, but they eliminated the whole system. They are hanging around in a void now trying to figure out how to get back the ‘playing fields.’ I took a ‘nap’ until you guys showed up and depending on what we decide now, I’m going back to it. Nothingness is so restful.”

Kranoor got their attention. 

“Most would-be Messiahs try to be smiley characters, how about we send the Earth an irascible one? Make her long-lived, but always seemingly pissed off. I’ll bet that will put a damper on fund-raising by the preachers.”

They made her as black as the ace of spades and as stinky as the ripest foul cheese. She’d have one large saggy breast permanently exposed and would fart so loudly that would-be worshippers would have to try to block their ears at the same time as not to breath through their noses. Most took to carrying a nose-peg with them. She called herself, Malfeezance.

But what really endeared her to many was her voice. When she spoke or sang, the crowd was enchanted and often reduced to tears. However, when she manifested a ‘pissed offness,’ her voice would cause all the listener's legs to shake. When it was full-moon she would work miracles and heal little babies and little girls and boys, but not boys with red hair. She had said that they were used to getting picked upon and humiliated. Little girls with red hair were favoured and their freckles taken away, whether or not they thought them cute.

Malfeezance preached that all countries should have ‘Heavy Metal Bands’ play their National Anthems as it was a truer reflection of their Leader’s thought processes. As Gods always punished their most favoured, she had her truest adherents carry on their backs the water needed to fill up portable pools for her to walk on to demonstrate that she could wear shoes made of cotton wool which wouldn’t get wet whilst she did it. She also banned nose-pegs for her followers.

Malfeezance walked the earth and waters for many centuries, sometimes healing the sick, but with a terrible smell in their nose for a few years. She would make the lame run but never walk. Old ‘cured’ men and women were allowed special shopping facilities to enable them to shop on the run without too much encumbrance. Also, electronic methods of payment were denied to them and they had to pay by cash. 

The people of earth kind of worshipped her as every now and then she would magically resurrect devastated vast areas of the world for people to play in. Other times, she would smite and castigate a community for preferring symphony orchestras above Hip Hop or Heavy Metal. Always, if she was really pissed off, whilst in a Western community, she would require them to listen to a Chinese traditional music concert for three hours before healing or maiming. Sometimes she would mend a broken back but replace it with boils. In other words, the world didn’t know if it was Arthur or Martha. They believed, but sometimes wished they didn’t.

Every now and then, Malfeazance threatened them with heaven. She told them they should get really used to Heavy Metal and Leider Singing because the Big Guy loved them morning till night. That’s if he decided to make a night. 

Alternative health products surged in sales with people desiring to make their entry into heaven as late as possible. It was always a possibility that Big G. would have moved onto more restful melodies by the time when they would be called. Maximum car speeds were limited to thirty miles per hour even on the autobahns.

After a thousand years, the Gods decided to wrap it up and resume their meeting. 

Malfeezance faded into obscurity and the world breathed a sigh of relief and sorted out whether it was Arthur or Martha. They chose Arthur.

After all, it has always been ‘Man’s World.’