I have always enjoyed literature and writing that starts conversations and makes people think; so I was delighted when I read local writer Angel Martinez’s experimental dialogue, which he describes as a “philosophically-grounded” “absurdist satire on divinity and the search for meaning in our existence.” I love a good piece that stimulates my brain, and I hope you do too because I am here to share it with you today.
The Anti-God
Somewhere in the room, an invisible force occupied the empty space. It seeped into my bones, this strange weight in the atmosphere, so I put my book down and looked around, but found myself alone. The longer I looked and found nothing, the heavier this presence became. This strange and ambiguous presence.
“Are you a he? She? It?” I asked jokingly, pacifying concerns about
ghosts.
“We are,” said a disembodied, soft and knowledgeable voice. My heart dropped to my stomach.
“W- we?” We?
“We.”
“W- What are you? Hello? Are you still here?”
“No, we are not here, as you say.”
“But I can hear you.”
“We are not limited to your concept of being, whether it is matter or
energy. We are not here. We are, and you are the disturbance in our
spacetime.”
“But I was just sitting here reading my book. You invaded my space.”
“Don’t be foolish. We do not exist in your dimensional plane of space,” Not what I meant, “You exist within us. And we exist in spite of you.”
“Alright? Why can I hear you then?”
“Silence now. Your existence is a cosmic miscalculation.”
“Miscalculation? What makes you so superior?”
“We are deserving of the consciousness that is wasted on you.”
At this point, I knew that continuing to engage with these hostile nothings would be a waste of my time. I continued reading but failed to process the words in front of me. I needed to scratch this terrible itch left by these pompous formless Nothings.
“Say, what exactly makes you deserving of the consciousness that is wasted on me?”
“We are the higher, the lower, the highest, and the lowest. We are the beginning, the middle, and the end.”
“God?”
“They wish,” another voice, far more potent, deep, and commanding than the Nothings chimed in.
“Oh, no,” said the Nothings.
“And who are you?” I asked.
“I Am,” he—he?—replied.
“No, no you are not. We are. You don’t get to claim existence all to
yourself,” the Nothings exclaimed.
“Ha! Please! You are but hydrogen shapes on my fingertips!”
I chuckled.
“Shut up, you mere speck,” said the Nothings, and I burst into laughter.
“What?” I Am asked, genuinely confused.
“Not you. The human.”
“What human?”
“The one in this room with us. Are you serious?”
“Ah, yes. Yes! The mortal! I forgot he was here.”
“Wait, so we are in this room then?” I asked, after mustering enough strength to speak. They both answered in unison, except I Am affirmed we were in my house while the Nothings negated it. They all fell silent for a moment.
“We are in your room, David,” I Am said, sending me into laughter
again.
“My name isn’t David.”
“Silence, Elijah, and listen to My wisdom. Torture yourself no more!
These demons ar-”
“We are not demo-”
“These demons are nothing but statistical improbabilities. I Am above them. Above you. Above all else. Place your faith in Me, and I shall grant you peace and this room in my Kingdom.”
“You’ll grant me something I already had here somewhere else?” I said. My stomach begged me to stop laughing.
“Indeed, for all that exists is Mine to take and give.”
“But I already have them here. Why would you take them away just to give them back somewhere el-”
“All that is conscious and unconscious, I inhabit.”
“Just leave-”
“I Am the breath. I Am the life. I Am the word. The Truth and the Way.
The Alpha and the Omega.”
“I could have what you offer if you just left!”
The Nothings sighed. As he rambled on about his greatness, I noticed that they had gone away. I wiped a tear from my eye and was about to implore I Am to leave me alone and spare me his pointless salvation, for I only wished to get back to my reading. This whole ordeal had been fantastic entertainment, but I wanted nothing more than to get back to my peace.
Just as I managed to regain control, a voice, soft but stern in her
speech, interrupted his soliloquy.
“What in the seven voids do you think you are doing?” she—She?—
asked. I could have sworn her sudden appearance had startled him.
“I was- Ahem. I was just spending time with one of My Creations. His name is Noah.”
“My name is not Noah,” I said as I rubbed my nose bridge.
“Your creation? Stop being dramatic. Your noise is crashing dimensions again,” Again?! “And stop talking to the human. It’s disturbing the balance.”
Now, I was intrigued. The simple act of interacting with me was
disturbing some cosmic balance! What was the importance of my interaction with the Nothings and I Am? Was my knowledge of them truly that significant? The mystery became irresistible.
“Why can’t he talk to me? Does that break the balance of the universe? Will my knowledge of your existence threaten the order of the cosmos?” I asked.
“Of course not. Listen, explaining this would take eons, but I trust you are intelligent enough to take this with love; you don’t matter enough to break anything,” she explained with a peculiar warmth.
“It’s just annoying to hear everything from my Beyond. It’s not your
fault, this should have never happened.”
Her last words marked the vanishing of all phantasms, as if she had
dragged I Am away with her. A walk of shame back to wherever he resides, and leaving me alone with so many riddles. The seven voids? There are multiple beyonds? Where is her beyond? I voiced these questions into the empty space but received no answer.
For once, to the detriment of my curiosity, I was alone. I basked in the irony of the events and smiled to myself. You don’t matter enough to break anything. Let alone to be owed answers. Having counted my blessings, I resumed my reading in peace.
When asked about the inspiration behind this thought-provoking piece, Martinez states, “I think this piece is just an amalgamation of all my thoughts on religion, the idea of something higher, and a consequence of reading too much Camus [French philosopher].”
He shares that he is a quiet person who enjoys silence, peace, and rainy evenings whenever they do make their rare appearance here in the Borderland.
You can follow Angel on Instagram where he shares occasional book hauls and recommendations.
Leave a Reply