No Country for Olde Gods

“Snow leopards.” God said, mustering whatever remnants of bravado he still could. “Snow leopards are the future. They are a beast of majesty, of principle. Um, of gravitas.” He trailed off as he gazed over the boardroom. Of all the angel investors he had ever dealt with, this batch was surely the worst. Not one of them understood his vision, his craft. The intangible beauty of a mind unladen by cynicism. That sometimes, to make a Master Species, you had to break a few Earths. 

“Ahem, God,” It was Egbert who spoke, one of the ambrosia swilling, quill-pushing naysayers, “I assume you’ve taken a look at the quarterly reports from Earth?”

God fixed Egbert with a cold stare. “Yes...I am aware of what they say.”

“So I assume you heard that the last surviving humans are barely able to grow crops given the-”

“Yes, I said I know.”

“Given the radioactive atmosphere and sweltering global temperatures even at night?” 

“I said I know.”

“Apparently the humans caused the seas to rise as well. And they nuked each other again.”

“I’m omniscient.”

“All right. I just wanted you to know, and to make sure that you know that I know. You may continue.”

God’s eyelid twitched. “As I was saying: snow leopards. The uplifting of the apes was obviously a mistake, I think we all understand that. But the project wasn’t without merit! What about Florence Nightingale, or the ‘96 Bulls? The human being was too flawed to see past its own stubby nose, fine, and yet it almost made it past the extinction stage! And I am telling you right now that with enough resources we can forge snow leopards into a new species worthy of-” 

“And what resources would those be?” 

“Another Earth.”

“Another Earth?”

“Another Earth.”

Silence. 

“Okay, I understand that it would blow our cyclical budget for this eternity,” God said as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair, “but if we open a few wormholes and bring in some capital from another timeline we would be able to recoup our losses and start expanding into other religions.” 

“I’m not sure I see the snow leopard angle,” someone in the back said, frowning, “I’ve always been partial to parakeets myself. And leopards aren’t exactly... spotless.”

The other angels snickered. God clenched his fist. 

“Listen,” God hissed, “Make your jokes if you like, but they’re already the smartest of the big cats and they enjoy the cold. They won’t deep fry the biosphere like the apes did and they’re too cute to kill each other in battle. All we need to do is give them a pack animal impulse like lions and keep slapping opposable thumbs on ‘em until they can use iPhones and play guitar and eat,” God gesticulated wildly, “burritos or somesuch.”  

“Does the snow leopard lobby have anything to do with you taking such a pro-leopard stance?” An angel asked. “And if so we would like in on the deal.”

“There is no snow leopard lobby,” Lucy chimed in, “all the snow leopards combusted aboard the Earth.”

“Ahem,” it was Egbert again, “God, I’m sure you are fully aware that we have run through three Earths already, each time only for it to be destroyed by some cataclysmic event either unsolvable or directly precipitated by the very creatures we chose to invest in. We started with fifty foot bugs but it was so terrifying that they all died of reciprocal revulsion. We tried it with shellfish but sentience became so boring to watch we had to blow them up for our own safety. And humanity may have had the ‘96 Bulls but it was all a lot of bull in the end anyway. The species had too much beef not to broil, if you take my meaning.”

Silence fell as everyone mulled over this. Another Earth? Another costly expenditure? Another shot to create some audience worthy of the divine tapestry? It just didn’t make the Excel sheet. 

“If I’m being entirely honest,” said D’Angelo the angel investor, “I don’t think we should abandon humanity. A few thousand of them are still alive and we must think of all the dogs out there who would lose their best friends. The cats who would have no one to judge. And the sharks who would have no land mammal to terrify by merely existing. We have poured everything into the competitive, self-indulgent ego of humanity so that it may strive and achieve. To become worthy. It would be a shame to watch them go down like this.”

“They have already gone down,” God said wearily, flipping to the last slide of his presentation. It had a picture of a snow leopard eating a snow cone. “It’s snow or never,” God muttered, “the snow must go on.” 

“God is right,” someone replied, “our previous venture is literally in flames. We must create New Earth or lose our purpose for existing: to be noticed for existing.” 

“But we can’t!” Shouted Egbert, “we can’t just borrow from wormholes willy nilly! We’ll destabilize our perceptions of reality and be drowned in the undulating abyss of our own imaginations!” 

“We thought ourselves into being,” cried Rodney the angel, “surely we can think our way out!”

“No, Rodney.”

“If we do create New Earth, God should not be in charge,” Lucy said above the rising din, “we should make a new God!”

“What?!” Cried God, flabbergasted “I brought up the idea of New Earth! Why can’t I be God?” 

“Because our divinity is blemished by your endemic failures!” Lucy went on, “we keep going in for more Earths that net apocalypses instead of any return on investment. If we’re going to remain competitive next quarter we need efficient adulation.”

“Why you little,” God huffed, “why I oughta-”

“ENOUGH.” Thundered Egbert, “ENOUGH OF THIS. The solution is clear, and it isn’t snow leopards. Lucy, you mentioned efficient adulation. I happen to agree. What we need is to leave the natural world as it is and learn to love ourselves. Do we exist? Fine. Then that should be enough. Everything we create ends up dying before it understands the depths of our glory.”

“So we just...remain bored?” Asked God, incredulous, “we surrender market dominance to become bored? That is the suggestion of the board?”

"It's that or make like the monkeys, your wormholiness."