An explosive fishing trip begins a path of celestial discovery and a whole heap of bureaucracy.
God is real, he’s just very busy with paperwork right now
1
Simon watched as the bright orange float began to bob up and down, breaking the surface of the canal.
Excitement quickly gave way to frustration as his fish quickly bolted from a large splash on the other side of the water. Simon looked up to see a young man in a tracksuit pulling on a thick orange rope that he correctly assumed was tied to a magnet.
Simon’s frustration was on the cusp of turning into a light dressing down just as the fellow across the water pulled his haul onshore.
The next five seconds happened incredibly quickly. The man met Simon’s eye, a deer in the headlights seeking an escape that didn’t exist.
A heat pierced Simon’s right calf as he briefly registered a red mist and explosion while succumbing to the dark.
2
Bright lights, thankfully only blue and red ones, permeated an otherwise very comfortable state of rest. Simon saw himself floating in crystal waters, talking with fish who whispered secrets of the universe into his ears.
After what felt like an age, he noticed that the water levels were receding as he floated slowly towards an almighty maelstrom in the distance.
3
Simon sat opposite Dr Hamyln as they both shifted on the squeaky blue chairs of the psychologist’s office. He had very big nostrils with lots of protruding grey hairs, a feature that put Simon at ease in a very peculiar sort of way.
‘I’m not sure I follow,’ said Dr Hamlyn.
Simon explained it again. A man with a magnet had annoyed him. He then pulled out an old World War Two bomb which detonated just as they made eye contact.
Dr Hamyln’s nicotine-tinged eyes sharpened. ‘It’s perfectly normal to carry a sense of responsibility or even guilt after an event like this.’
Simon concurred, but that wasn’t his main concern.
‘See, this is the part I’m not following – what do you mean it’s happened before?’, asked the doctor.
Simon could recount at least five occasions when someone had rightfully earned his wrath before whatever they happened to be holding either burst, jumped or apparently, exploded. Admittedly, this was his first experience with ordinance – but the pattern was concerning all the same.
‘I see’, said Dr Hamlyn as his gaze shifted to his notebook.
‘And what does this pattern mean to you?’
4
Simon shuffled out of the door, trying to manoeuvre in the least awkward fashion he could. It hadn’t healed yet, and the physiotherapist wasn’t entirely sure how he was walking, but his leg was still a little bit stiff from the shrapnel wound.
A man approached from across the room as Simon stuffed his referral note into his back pocket.
“Excuse me, Mr Helly”, said the stranger.
The use of his family name caught Simon off guard, and his eyes narrowed as he quickly surveyed the stranger and the room. He quickly discounted bailiff or bounty hunter due to the stranger’s tie, journalist or insurance sales most likely.
“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion”, said the stranger. “I read about you in the news and wondered if you’d mind having a little chat about what happened?”
5
Simon sat on the faux leather stool as he imbibed the comforting must of the pub. He wasn’t a drinker and had surprised himself with his readiness to join the stranger for a pint. They had an easing quality to them.
The stranger shifted closer.
“So, in the interests of full disclosure, I’m taking a bit of a professional interest in your story”, he said.
Simon put his pint down for the moment. Best keep as many inhibitions as possible until he knew what the pitch was.
“I’ve taken a look at your file, and … well … I think there’s a strong chance that you’ve been, ahem, chosen.”
Simon shifted on his seat and pushed his pint away by a centimetre. The stranger had said that a bit sheepishly, and Simon had to wonder how they had become privy to his talks with Dr Hamlyn.
“Ah yes, I see what you mean. No, I haven’t seen your medical files, those are secret and secure. I’ve seen, well, your ‘file’ if you take my meaning. The file that lets us know if you’re good or evil, blessed or damned, a carpenter or a stonemason. You know, that type of thing”.
6
Simon and the stranger walked down the canal towpath, away from the fishing spot, as the sky turned to a dusky shade of pink.
“We’re the same as any legacy organisation really”, explained the stranger. “We have a system that used to work very well but hasn’t kept up with the times. For example, you’re down as an engraver, but LinkedIn suggests that you do something with computers. That’s why we have to send someone out these days. To double check before we fully commit”.
Simon’s foot scraped across the gravel as the pair ambled into the verge to let some cyclists pass. He had never considered his experiences as ‘miracles’ before, and he suspected he shouldn’t call them that to Dr Hamlyn, but it did sort of make sense.
“Yeah, we’ve made some real cock ups over the last five hundred years or so. We have scientologists in the afterlife now you know. Both floors as well, which we don’t quite understand. He works in mysterious ways; is the line we get anytime we ask for an explanation”.
7
Simon crawled into bed, exhausted after his first day at the Divine Being Assessment Centre.
The strangers peptalk about ‘suffering and bearing hardship’ hadn’t quite prepared him for how much running was involved. He wasn’t quite sure what the bleep test for, but he was happy with his score of seven which had kept him in the running.
He also hadn’t anticipated how oversubscribed it was going to be.
“Ah yes, we started to notice an increase in candidates around the same time humans started playing with nitrogen”, his Stranger explained. “We’ve only just got rid of the disciple requirement. Two thousand years ago, twelve followers was a sure sign of divinity. Do you know how many people on Instagram have more than twelve followers?!”
Still, he felt like he’d done quite well. Apparently, he had scored a load of points before he’d even started by not having already proclaimed himself as divine on a street corner, pulpit or YouTube channel.
They hadn’t given him a lot of information before he started, but he had been observant enough to notice that the Centre didn’t just check whether you were ‘chosen’ as they called it, but they also ranked those who were.
He inferred that messiahs had been through the assessment thanks to a Stranger who seemed to like name-dropping. He’d also walked past a particularly dejected looking woman receiving a pep-talk from a Stranger proclaiming her as the patron saint of staples and his plan to get her canonised by at least one major Abrahamic religion within five hundred years of her death.
Simon closed his eyes. He needed the rest.
8
A bead of sweat dripped down Simon’s cheek. He still hadn’t quite figured out the point of the bleep tests, but he was happy to see that his score had increased to a nine on what he estimated was his fifteenth go.
The Stranger bounded over to him happily. “Nice!” he said. “If we can nail your Changing a Liquid into Another Liquid (Excluding Bodily Fluids) test, I think you’re almost guaranteed some form of minor deity or patron saint status. Maybe of some kind of fish?”
Simon let a mild sense of disappointment wash over him and vanish to nothing. He had learned that his Stranger tended to under-egg his statements.
They turned a corner and passed a series of office doors. Simon had noted a particularly interesting one a couple of days ago. An unassuming bronze plate on the door read ‘A.L. Mighty’. Name or job title, Simon wasn’t sure. What had caught his attention was the total absence of any signs of occupancy. There was even a cobweb on the doorhandle which felt a little too on the nose.
“He’s popped out for lunch”, said the Stranger as he noted Simon’s gaze.
“Went to grab a quick bite to eat about six hundred and fifty years ago”, he continued. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon to help us sort out all the mess.”
Simon wasn’t sure he believed him.
9
Simon blocked the crowd from his mind. A seemingly infinite set of eyes were on him. Strangers and pending deities watched with bated breath.
He wasn’t sure how he’d come this far. Over one hundred bleep tests, a couple of minor miracles and two weeks of Dance Dance Revolution, he had finally made it to the showstopper event that would confirm whether he had the tinge of a messiah to him.
His proudest achievement had actually been keeping his appointments with Dr Hamlyn and not mentioning the whole potential saviour of humanity thing. Not an easy thing to do when you’ve scored a fifteen on the bleep test and had multiple Strangers insist on shaking your hand.
His eyes focussed on the coke can. Burst it with his mind, and his trial was over.
10
He stared. The coke can stared back. He felt a growing heat on his forehead.
The next five seconds happened incredibly quickly. The heat continued to grow until it suddenly stopped.
Simon fell into an ocean of fish.
Through the ether he could hear his Stranger’s voice. “Oh, fuck’s sake, not again!”
‘Strange, I didn’t think angels could swear’, Simon said to some passing tuna.
End.