Day of Reckoning

By Kevin Michael Marley

Day of Reckoning was written initially as a play well over twenty years ago, and was subsequently turned into a novel by the author. Day of Reckoning is about an American town, Pleasantville, in rural Oregon that is destroyed by The Great Flood. Essentially, the people of Pleasantville are simple God-fearing folk, and after the disaster, which has

• Language: English
• Publisher: Human Spirit
• Release date: Jun 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781495153839

Book preview

The Town of Pleasantville

They what?! No, Frank. You've gotta be joking. Nobody issues a warrant for God's arrest in the 21st century. I mean, it doesn't happen. We might go down to the local courthouse and sue Santa Claus, take pot shots at the Easter bunny, but we don't issue warrants for the arrest of God!! Perhaps we shouldn't have concocted that devilish and very brilliant story?! Frank, if we said the breaking of the dam wasn't an act of God occurring from God's will, we would've had to pay all those flood claims. We've saved hundreds of millions, Frank. Perhaps, billions and even trillions! It's a bonanza—a windfall of good luck. Just relax, man. There's no way they can catch us. It's our golden word as vice presidents by a leading national corporation against their small puny voices and empty pockets. Hey, I'll tell you what. After all this gets settled, we'll take a wonderful vacation together and go to the Bahamas. Heck, with all the money we've saved, we'll be able to travel to the next galaxy, meet some other god or deity and ingratiate ourselves with him before we die. Relax, it'll be okay.

Theo M. Clay hung up the phone anticipating what would come next in the world of business. Verily, behind the common façade of life, history always winds up repeating itself. Man hadn't become more civilized during the ensuing centuries and decades, despite the many proclamations to the contrary. Like our ancestors, we still cleverly fought with strong bows and sharp arrows, and iron swords and shields, used maneuvers by phalanxes and cavalry, and prospered by outsmarting our opponents as the ancient battle field between clever Romans and the Huns became the field of cutthroat business. Now, today it was the caustic field of national politics and global business that incessantly demanded the marshaling of vast resources across stretches of the entire globe and the unrepentant acquisition of both power and wealth. It needed not compassion nor goodwill although lip service would be paid to such respects, but a well coordinated effort much like the Allied generals that had invaded Normandy in the mid-twentieth century against the Nazi blitzkrieg; only now you needed a well developed product or service, marketing strategies that were brilliant and flawless, and the steel-like determination to overcome any impermanent obstacles and the enemy. Unflinchingly, Theo stared at himself in the length-wise mirror knowing that he couldn't fail today. It wasn't an option. As the vice-president of Farmers Insurance, Theo had honed himself like a highly trained decathlon Olympian athlete throughout the years, and he subsequently possessed an unblemished record at saving the company money. The more he diligently tightened the company's purse strings by whatever nefarious means he used like a hungry miser, the more he had been graciously rewarded.

Ka-chink.    Ka-chink.

Gold coins had come rolling in.

It didn't matter how he did it.

Theo had the uncanny ability to spin anything with mere words so that not only they deflected liability suits and losses, and tarnishment in the press, but that they looked like the good guys in doing it. Surprisingly, it had worked, so far.

Indeed, New York City and Wall St. were a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah where big bellied bankers, lobbyists, the SEC, and many other government officials were lustfully tearing off each other's clothes and making love and buggering each other in corporate board rooms, and in the closed locked door offices of Congress and the Senate. By all accounts, they had unholy offspring, half-human and half-beasts. Of course, if you watched television and read all the news print before the great disaster, things had never been better in America. Fortune 500 companies, the financial sector, the real estate market, and the insurance industry were our saviors as Old Glory waved in the background on 20 Broadway St. New York, NY. as America herself was sailing towards shores of even greater fortunes. No one cared to deeply analyze anything. Through various ribbon cutting ceremonies, the bottom line of money was enshrined at the golden altar as men and women lined up to pay homage to their idols much like in the old days. The Almighty Dollar was now that! These American businesses were Greek and Roman temples filled with money lenders and smudged ledgers, and it was only looking to become more bullish and richly rewarding for the one percent at the top of the heap.

Only this was the infinite glow of inflated stock values, mortgage-backed securities, cash bonuses, mistresses, early retirement, yachts, villas in the Mediterranean, and unmitigated power.

In their Swiss Tudor mansion overlooking the muddied waters of the Willamette River that meandered northward towards the Columbia, Theo confidently strode out onto the deck in late evening with his arms folded, and glanced at the panoramic view: Powell Island, the speed boats, downtown Portland with its high tech economy, businesses and K-12 schools, the green and lush spacious lands often sprinkled by rain, and even Mt. Hood shining with its crooked needle-like summit. Theo's mind was never truly calm. It raced like a supercomputer with CPU's and lots of RAM, speaking in a binary language of 1’s and 0’s, and going through a thousand different permutations per second. Painstakingly, his mind analyzed everything about how he would handle the press, the initial public outcry, memos, initial stages of litigation, and any tedious lawsuits. The odds were precipitously stacked in their favor these days despite the initial outcry. While the general public had fallen asleep foregoing their basic civic duties in The Land of the Free and the Brave, the playing field had become very steep, and then mountain-like.

Now freedom and democracy were gone, and most workers were Medieval serfs tilling their land for their own Feudal Lord who paid obeisance to The King.

In the end, they would prevail as they always do.

I can't believe how far this God stuff has gone—even Frank has flipped, Theo blurted out scratching his face. Tentatively, he stood in the theatrical wings of a Shakespearian play, seeing himself as talented vice-president and ultimately, a practical man when the chips were down. Margaret gazed up from her book with lovely brown eyes probing what was wrong with her husband. Theo sat beside her.

Why didn't man choose to worship …?

Women? Instead of God? Margaret asked.

We all ready do!

Theo coyfully slipped his arm around her and pulled Margaret closer. His romantic relationship with Margaret had been a worldly blessing that had showed him Heaven and Earth had a few tangential meeting points that ultimately made life worth living. Their love was as simple as the sky raining and copiously wetting a green stemmed garden rose; and the sun brightly shining, afterwards. It was his Rock of Gibraltar. They kissed like entangled newlyweds. They drank from each other's cups. It refreshed and charmed him like a youthful schoolboy. But like the sweetest things of this world, it began to lose its charm.

The Multimedia Machine that discombobulated thing-a-ma-jig that had constantly reproduced itself a million times over was relentlessly churning with a strange new life of its own as it warmed itself with kajillions of electrons, and talked a new language of complex math. Like a three year old child, at first, it could think in rudimentary terms with DOS, C++, and then with Java; and at times, like a savant idiot, it could think in much more sophisticated terms and even fuzzy logic, and outwit grandmasters of chess and some of our best thinkers as it had grown to something strangely more mature fed now by huge resources of IT companies, vast quantities of manpower world-wide, and even national budgets; its octopus-like monstrous tentacles spread all over the globe voraciously grabbing, not just for more data and information, but for more and more people and things to put under its spreading command; as such, its imperial commands were obeyed and throughout the past two decades, it became even more empowered by millions of servers in cyberspace, more programmers, Fortune 500 companies, and even more government dollars and ultimately, it spread like a fledgling nervous system covering the entire earth unbeknownst to most humans. Not surprisingly, most humans had developed a very keen symbiotic relationships with their plastic machines and were now already inextricably connected and joined at the hip. The cell phone rang. The pager beeped. The Blackberry went off. The fax machine hummed, and the fancy Dell laptop and the Intel Celeron M processor played the five ubiquitous notes of Microsoft Windows heard ‘round the world that signaled the start of another work day. At the same time, the TV and the radio obnoxiously blared in the background calling for our undivided attention. But overall, we weren't freer. We were like a pithy and hapless Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times caught in this massive factory with hundreds of massive gears methodically turning, and trapped in its wretches.

Theo watched TV, and then surfed the plethora of channels. There was the usual alphabet soup of news haphazardly thrown into the air by invisible hands: ABC. CBS. NBC. CNN Breaking News. MSNBC. The Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer. Fox News. Bill O'Reilly. Sean Hannity. He could easily see news gathering had all become a rather trite ritualized fencing game as reporters respectfully bowed in their white fencing uniforms and masks before their opponent—a CEO or a national politician. Overall, they crossed sabers rarely, queried with much less thrust and riposte, and ultimately, put on a good show for viewers. What else could we do? the reporters asked themselves. They might get hurt in the pursuit of the truth like the high risks Edward Murrow or Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein took to bring the actual news to their viewers. In some back alley in Washington D.C. or New York, news corporations and reporters had made some covert deal with underworld entities in dark glasses and trench coats, and they had bought fame, money, and a worldly security in lieu of the unvarnished truth. They became infallible loudspeakers for: The Big Status Quo. They told the same story in a tiny black box as gaseous figures moved behind it about how great we were as an American nation under The Declaration of Independence, The Constitution and God. Naturally, with mouths agape, we believed it dressed in our flannel pajamas like three year olds watching the television.

The American Public was sleepwalking.

Hey, could you make me a pastrami sandwich on rye with Romaine lettuce, a couple pickles, a tomato, and Dijon mustard? I'm so starved, honey!

Theo stood on the U.S.S. Ulysses as the battle ship itself listed in heavy seas, and began sailing through the perilous straits of Hormuz as this ordeal would not be over for months. Theo put his foot firmly down and tried to summon his usually prodigious amount of strength in times of a crisis, but lately he had been feeling terribly distracted. The burning fire in the pit of his stomach had with time diminished to mere glowing embers. His unabated hunger for new challenges had ceased. Something was inexplicably missing in the very marrow of his bones. At Farmers Insurance, the victories were less exuberant and the champagne toasts in the board rooms were quite stale even though he made good speeches. The setbacks stung, and he felt more like a hampered and aging NFL quarterback toward the end of his own illustrious career. But what was it exactly that bothered him? He stood in front of the TV that strangely glowed with a life of its own, the massive verbiage, and ruminated about this latest news coverage. There would be the head on blitz of reporters that would be awaiting him at his office trying to knock him down for the sack.

His nerves began to fail him.

He felt nauseous.

But quickly he remembered the old adage, one of his favorites, spoken by Abe Lincoln: It is true you can fool all the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time unless you have a multimillion dollar Marketing and Public Relations campaign!

Of course, he had slightly modernized it.

Theo patted himself on the back. Admittedly, he was a clean shaven Mephistopheles as Theo had The Knack, The Gift of Gab, and The Sweetness of Sophistry. He could sing the raspy blues with an other worldly enchantment like a Billie Holiday. Likewise, Theo could convince The Everyday Man with a few dollar bills in his pocket to Sell His Soul for another product. With the twirling of mere words, Theo could sell a common cup of coffee for the outrageous fee of $5.70 a cup by changing small, medium, and large to tall, grande, and venti, and by convincing the gullible public that they were having an exalted and memorable coffee experience in their cozy living room, only it was at Starbucks. Or he could sell worthless rubbery shoes manufactured in Southeast Asia, made for only a few dollars apiece to inner-city basketball frenzied kids for a mere $125 by putting the Nike swoosh on them; or sell to the general public football or baseball stadiums with luxury suites in major U.S. cities for a cool half billion more in tax dollars by talking about ‘our children’ and ‘our national pastime’ in order to watch someone pitch a fastball that no one can hit, or someone hit a ball that no one can catch; and in the meantime, cleverly subsidize these multimillionaires and billionaires; or pedal pharmaceutical drugs for multinational corporations by telling them it will alleviate most of their symptoms and then at the end tell them in the tiniest print: It may actually lead to an increase in suicide and violent behavior. It may also cause: dry mouth, urinary retention, blurred vision, constipation, sedation, sleep disruption, weight gain, headache, nausea, gastrointestinal disturbance/diarrhea, and abdominal pain, inability to achieve erection, inability to achieve orgasm loss of libido, agitation, and anxiety. And for harder products? Don't know how to market it? Hell, call it The Purple Pill. Don't dare say anything more. Then encourage people to hurry up and go ask their doctor for it; or take a break from the field of advertising itself, and make pork barreled legislation deals for billions of dollars by buying members of Congress or the Senate; or try your hand at selling water downed verdicts in tort cases while being reimbursed by the millions; or in a nifty sleight-of-hand trick sell a virtual stalemate in the Exxon Valdez case as many of the thousands of plaintiffs, fishermen, merchants, and local townspeople, die; or hawk various kinds of snow to the Eskimos; or pure sand to the Bedouins; and in this entire process, wave a magic wand, and make National and State Politicians and Corporate America look like they were the Good Guys.

Even though there was a twinge of guilt.

I can't bother with having a conscience, right now, Theo firmly told himself. The prevailing ethos of today hasn't changed. It has been and always will be: Every Man for Himself.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

Utter darkness.

What's this?! Another fuse blown?! Margaret, could you run downstairs and check the fuse box, sweetie?

Okay.

Miraculously, a spotlight from no particular source shone on Theo as he stood in its glare.

Hey, what is this?! What are you trying to do blind me?!

Strangely, a deep baritone voice spoke with solemnity.

You are already a blind man ignoring your own Brothers for a pocket full of gold.

Cash, man. Cash!! And in case you haven't been keeping up with the Joneses and Smiths, CD's, stock options, choice real estate deals, mega bonuses, and multimillionaire dollar stock portfolios. Hey, who are you? And what the hell are you doing breaking into my house?!

Suddenly, like in the midst of a great cumulous cloud, cymbal crashing thunder sounded and shook the entire house rattling its wooden beams, furniture, and cemented foundation to its very core. A booming voice, not of pathetic tones, false urgencies, and incessant melodrama, but more akin to a former age, of burning bushes, of Mt. Sinai, and of the Ten Commandments, deafeningly sounded:

Who do you think I am?!

Listen, Theo blurted, thinking where the hell are the local cops in their sirens and cars when you really needed them—off drinking mocha lattes and eating Dunkin Donuts. "If you think, who I think you think you are, well, I think you're crazy!"

Well, then don't think—believe!

Fed up, Theo moved over to the living room fireplace and grabbed a heavy poker. "Hey, this is ridiculous—LOCO! This stuff only happens in late night TV and in bad Hollywood movies, which are pretty ubiquitous these days! Man with no conscience but with lots of money meets God with fantastic conscience, but NO MONEY. Man gets a fantastic and well rehearsed sermon, gives up his evil ways, repents for everyone to hear, and then gains eternal welfare while he now has to look for a piece of rope to hold up his pants!!"

An interminable silence passed.

Forget it, man. I'd rather spend the rest of my days at the North Pole as an Eskimo with my zipper stuck!

Theo wondered when the damn lights were going to come back on, or when Margaret, someone, or—ANYONE!!!—was going to rescue him from this silly and very peculiar mess he had gotten himself into which was growing more odd by the minute.

A booming, thunderous voice filled with a vengeful anger resounded again: Repent sinner or you will be eternally damned!!!

The handsome European-styled furniture, a wicker chair, a dining table, a large cabinet, and two end tables, began mysteriously wobbling, and then moving back and forth across the wooden floor as simultaneously the overhead lights went on and off. There were independently moving on their own as Theo could see no visible wires. No props. No optical illusion. Was it a poltergeist come to haunt him? Some inexplicable phenomenon? Or some elaborate hoax? A horrible joke by one of his brilliant high tech friends at work?

Theo's mind raced processing as he stood in the middle of his living room, not knowing what to actually think, watching this bizarre scene.

Not bad, he feigned as he walked to the middle of the room, "But I've seen much better in the Exorcist!"

Do you know how long eternity is?!

Hey, just drop the act! Nobody buys that stuff anymore, hell and eternal damnation, fire and brimstone from the Spanish Inquisition warmed over! Listen, you're obsolete. The Edsel is more remembered than you! The hula hoop has been more frequently used. You gotta change your show, market yourself better, if you want people with all their worries to pay attention again. Be REAL!

The disembodied voice broke slightly: But the sheep will be lost without the shepherd.

Sheep, shepherd?! You've gotta forget all about that stuff. You're behind the times two thousand years!

In a sudden turn, the voice sounded strangely vulnerable, indeed, human: I … I know. I've been on vacation.

VACATION?! Theo stammered.

For the first time, Theo pondered that he might just be talking to The Big Guy Upstairs, The Head Honcho, and The CEO of the Milky Way Galaxy and the Universe that ran mostly everything from atoms to subatomic particles to the four forces of nature as he wasn't hallucinating. His wild-ass floppy hat and bandana hippie days when he dabbled in pot, amphetamines, and LSD at U.C. Berkley eating tofu and sprouts in whole grain sandwiches and listening to the Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead in the hazy 70’s were over. No flashbacks, thank God! His mind conjured its own images as he pushed its many buttons. Beyond a doubt, it dreamt up its schemes and plans. This was too strange to be anything else.

It rang as clearly as a bell in a church steeple.

Well, it gets boring being God! The disembodied voice sounded more perturbed than anything. It's like being the ATT telephone operator all day long. All you get are the same dull routine calls: ‘I want a new boyfriend, God.’ ‘I want another job, God!’ ‘God, could you please fill up my gas tank and throw in fifteen bucks on top of it?’ ‘God, I want to be more beautiful than Angela Jolie!’ ‘God, I want an A+ on this calculus test in Mr. Withelder's class.’ ‘God, I want a new three bedroom house in Gladstone.’ God, I want to play Major League Baseball when I grow up. And I want to bat fourth, and be an All Star center fielder like Ken Griffey Jr. for the Mariners!’ ‘God—God—GOD!! GOD ARE YOU THERE?!! I want to be a powerful CEO, but even bigger than Warren Buffet and Bill Gates combined if that's mathematically possible!’ ‘God, I want, I want, I want, I want …"

And so one day you just decided to take a break?!

Yeah.

"Jesus!"

Well, he's here, too.

He is?

"But he's busy. He's saving another planet."

"God, no wonder things have been so messed up down here!"

They have?

"Man, the Anaheim Angels suck big time, and almost always have in the West Division. The New Orleans Saints haven't even come close to winning the Super Bowl until recently when they won almost by sheer luck!! It's horrible down here. The world's frightfully backwards. Common sense is a rare commodity. Rarer than gold. Our so-called leaders talk ad naseum, but never lead. Every good deed goes punished. The nail that sticks up gets relentlessly hammered down. Spaceship Earth is frantically moving towards Water and Oil Wars, regional conflicts, and maybe even Armageddon if things don't change in a substantive manner. The Industrial Wars go on all continents. The Misery Index is mercurial and setting records. The only way to actually survive here is to blend in, act like everyone else, and follow the basic maxim: Monkey see, monkey do."

Well, have … have there been any wars? the voice tremulously asked.

"A couple biggies, World War I and World War II with 90-80 million dead. But we got over it, and swore never to do it again. After that, we had the Cold War that went on for about 45 years, the Korean War, only for a few years, the Vietnam War, the Falkland Islands War, the Persian Gulf War with George H. Bush and the second one with George W. Bush where we did a brilliant pre-emptive strike on Iraq since we were thinking that they were thinking about attacking us, so we thought it was good to attack them first! Or so, we thought! And then if all that doesn't work, we have the other garden variety wars that go on all the time in Africa, Asia, Central America, and Europe where they're quite busy killing and maiming."

I get the point!

A differently hued spotlight now shone on Theo as he looked at his own hands that radiated a kind of energy. The tenor of the conversation had changed. Theo felt himself to be talking to a very old friend whom he could begin sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings more than he ever did with his own psychologist, Dr. Spivey. He slowly turned the pages of this Book of Nature, and he saw an earlier time when he believed that all was possible, even the so-called impossible, when he had been a child. Strangely, they were becoming slowly reacquainted with each other and they were having a long overdue conversation about what really mattered, about The Big Questions. These were the questions that Socrates, Plato and Aristotle had once asked in ancient Athens, that Lao Tzu and Confucius had asked in China, and that Albert Einstein and Sir Ernest Rutherford had asked as cutting edge scientists, and they had answered to the best of their abilities. But these burning questions had not been asked since by many people who had deferred them to others in position of high standing authority.

But the human mind was asked these same perennial questions, and the concrete answers would be your life.

A cold wind blew a pageant of autumnal leaves as they twirled and danced about on his deck. This same warm wind then passed through his living room as a heavy sigh could be heard.

Well, what made me come back was when I heard about that town issuing a warrant for my arrest.

Pleasantville, Oregon. It's a small town about one hundred and forty miles southeast from here. It has a population of 54,042 people that are very respectable God-fearing folks who go to church every Sunday rain or shine. Those people think you purposely destroyed their schools, town hall, railroad stations, farms, houses, cows, chickens and roosters by letting the dam break. Namely, you ruined the Town of Pleasantville, Oregon, and then had the audacity to kill their loved ones, Mom and Dad, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, teachers, the local minister, and the mayor of the town himself, Mr. Hewitt, who was washed away in The Flood. It's a veritable mess. A Public Relations Disaster. A crisis of faith. Basically, you've got a huge problem, padre. And you need to get your butt down here in front of this ever growing mob that's now dangerously congregating about getting a bunch of ideas, and straighten things out in a hurry. Or if you don't, you're going to have a lot of angry atheists on your hands.

The disembodied voice that sounded, at times, like a creaking oak tree, a rumbling cloud, the moaning earth under great seismic pressures now suddenly became defensive: "But I didn't do it. You're the one who lied and said it was my fault. You straighten things out!"

Theo backpedaled several feet, maneuvered, and then adroitly positioned himself to hit the volley back. "Hey, nobody said it was your fault, just your will. YOUR WILL."

But the dam broke on its own and you lied.

But you weren't here to stop it!

I was …

"You were vacationing!!! You checked out of this quite shabby hotel called The Earth and were living The Life of Riley in the splendid Universe, more than likely, in the highest Heavens, not a care in this measly world about where shelter or a next meal is going to come from. Come on, it would make our very best resort in Hawaii or the Caribbean with fine dining look rat infested and crawling with snakes. You were probably sleeping across an unimaginable expanse of thousands of galaxies, and using colorful nebulae for a soft downy pillow! In case, you didn't know, being God is easy. Being Human is hard! Look, you're going to have to come down here as there are a few brawny and brainless ‘world leaders’ in this one room schoolhouse playing with some extraordinarily HUGE matches. They're a single incident away from starting Nuclear Armageddon. To top it off, we've got very angry restless mobs about to start ‘Holy Wars’ in the Middle East and attack one another in YOUR NAME. Besides that, there are a bunch of finely dressed wolves feasting on your sheep.

"I get a migraine just thinking about it.

"This global village called The Earth isn't quite making it, Big Guy. In short, nobody is having the important dialogues we need to have, and nobody can muster the political will to change things for the better.

"The rest of humanity might be considered ‘well off,’ but that's like brilliantly dusting off a stool in the tiny corner of a very large one room schoolhouse, placing a dunce cap on your head, and staring at the two walls, the floor, and the ceiling itself.

"Basically, things are real tough.

We could, ummm, use some help.

But I can't appear down there! I won't!!

What are you shy?

No, but …

But what?!

What form should I take? the voice stammered. A few hints might help.

"‘What form should I take?’ You sound like Margaret asking me for the umpteenth time: ‘What dress shall I wear, Theo?’"

Of all people in the world copiously filled with sages and fools, Theo had to give God advice?

Wear whatever will catch their eye! For these people, straightforward appearances are all that matters. That's all that they pay attention to. The usual outfit: Father Time. He's God. He's the very pinnacle of all we worship on Sundays with white silvery hair, a very long beard, a flowing Toga-like robe as though belonging to the Senate in Rome, and cheap sandals. In terms of personality, let me see: God has a very serious face like he's holding a straight royal flush, but you'd never know. He also has these piercing black eyes that can reach far into our sordid past, and make us feel a tinge of guilt about the sins we've committed. But besides all that, He sits on a cumulous cloud overseeing all our good and bad deeds, and doesn't put up with heathens. Nor does He take rudeness from anyone! Go for that Old Testament kind of authority. Believe me, it will work. Remember, You are The Lord Almighty who made the world in six days! Essentially, you need to make a strong statement. You're back as CEO! You're in charge! No one else is! You mean it! And oh, yeah, a slightly ascetic streak as you can't go checking in and staying at 5-star resorts, eating at nice restaurants, riding in luxury cars, drinking Chateau Lafitte, and chasing the babes! It will ruin your image faster than any notorious political scandal. Ask John Edwards.

Thanks, but how about if you go instead?

"Me?! I'm not the immortal one!"

But you know these people better than I do.

But I don't look like you.

That can be changed.

Quickly, Theo dabbed the beads of perspiration on his forehead.

Look, I'm a terrible actor. I once acted in a two-act play in college as an undergraduate, and it was the most painful experience of my entire life. If pure embarrassment could've killed, it would have been lethal. A slow lingering death by botulism would've been more bearable. The Ebola virus would have been more efficiently quick, and had a more compassionate ending. To be blunt, it is hard enough playing myself in this B-rated film that most people call Life itself—let alone You. The Big Guy. I would need method acting lessons from Robert De Niro himself for six months in NYC. Also, it would just be a little difficult for me to stay in character and remember who I was when all those gorgeous women come up to me wanting to be blessed.

Listen, you'd be perfect.

Well, yeah, Theo said as he pondered some of the fringe benefits. Hey, just draw up some papers by your attorney, and I'll have my lawyers look them over first thing tomorrow morning. Okay?

There's no need for that. The trial will last only two days.

The trial?

The People of Pleasantville versus God.

Hey, nobody said anything about a trial?! It would be The Trial of the Century, greater than the Lindbergh and Rosenberg trials combined in terms of press coverage, maybe, even bigger than the O.J. trial in Southern California. Now, that's something to think about! Look, I'm very busy these days. I've got this potential lawsuit as you already know and plenty of commitments, and if I make any more commitments, I'll be committed to Oregon State Hospital's J Building in Salem.

It's too late. I've all ready decided.

Hunh?

"Besides, you owe me one."

Awww, come on, look at what happened to some of your other messengers, namely, poor Socrates, who told the truth and was forced to drink hemlock!

Time eerily stood still. Slowly, the movie picture moved forward frame by frame. Theo tried to inconspicuously backpedal towards the door as he began moving out of the spotlight. You know, your people can meet my people. Have lunch. Chit chat. It would be like two foreign countries re-establishing diplomatic relations again like the US and China during the Nixon era, Theo stammered. He sounded like a nervous insurance salesmen on his first business call. "They can have a long and friendly discussion before we finally sign any kind of formal business agreement. At a later date, we can stipulate clearly what our expectations, what form of payment we can expect, have you put something in an escrow account, and formalize a one year contract with Farmers Insurance whom you have personally chosen to take care of your needs and represent you.

"It can't hurt to follow some common sense procedures.

How ‘bout it, Big Fella?

Our agreement between You and I was made a long time ago before there was a beginning and an ending. It transcends time and space, and the many illusions you have about yourself. I'm simply reminding you of it, Theo. We have always been intimately joined. In fact, I experience everything that you do from joy to a stubbed toe. Also, My Will is yours. That is how you have manifested everything in your life. However, your will is Mine, only some of the time. Essentially, I have become You. And You are Me. You are Divine in Nature and have incredible powers at your disposal although you are slowly awakening to this incredible fact.

Well, hey, it doesn't hurt to have something in writing then, doesn't it? Theo asked. Scribble a few notes on a legal pad?

You can postpone this engagement. But not indefinitely.

Hey, I just want a day or two. That's all. I need to think about it before signing my important life and agenda away on the dotted line?

The spotlight abruptly faded and it became lonesomely dark. The baritone voice was silenced. Finally, the lights came back on, and the miraculous meeting that could not be adequately explained was over. Margaret ran back upstairs carrying two sandwiches and a bottle of Chardonnay wine.

What happened?

Either I had a long conversation with God, or I'm hallucinating, Theo said as he looked at Margaret and tightly held a drink with his fingers wondering if he should go find his doctor's number. Theo had glimpsed something as real as the physical world itself, and for the first time, Theo could see: All the so-called important things of this world were like 0’s. He had been incessantly writing 0’s. And like a fool, he had forgotten to put a 1 in front of them to make the eventual number that he was writing ‘a million.’ But soon, Theo's own will came back to him, and quickly, he tucked his blue shirt tail in, adjusted his tie, and remembered that he would rather face the terrible wrath of God than the opprobrium of Farmers Insurance stockholders. For the moment, his world had become topsy turvy, but the vicissitudes of life, and surely, a brief conversation with God were not going to profoundly change him. Theo shrugged it off. I can't let anything ruin this deal, Theo muttered to himself as he stared at his Rolex watch, and began packing his briefcase for his trip tomorrow to Pleasantville. It's the deal of a lifetime.

A Higher Calling?

We're on a road to Nowhere

Come on Inside

Takin’ that ride to Nowhere

We'll take that ride.

I'm feelin’ okay this mornin’

And you know,

We're on The Road to Paradise

Here we go, here we go.

Down Interstate Highway 84 towards eastern Oregon, Theo rode in his sparkling Porsche as The Talking Heads were playing one of his favorite songs live in concert as it blared and resonated. Methodically, he tapped his foot and headed towards the town of Pleasantville where people lived the simple life from cradle to grave. Nothing had changed in its 154-year history as an early settlement town in the 1800’s originally founded by Eastern settlers moving along the Oregon Trail who wanted to create a new life and who had hard struggles in the Northwest, and the occasional skirmishes with Indians that eventually led to their resettlement