Lies and liars (and the ones who believe in them) - By z3phyrboi107

Lies and liars (and the ones who believe in them) - By z3phyrboi10ou

Lies and liars (and the ones who believe in them)
z3phyrboi107

Summary :

In the aftermath, Tsumugi talks to God.

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"We are all liars." You admit to God in a bombed out cafeteria in the ruins of a non-existent school. "A lie makes a liar, even if you've only told one lie in your entire life, you're still a liar all the same."

'How so.' God challenges from across the tabletop. He gazes at you, all milk and nyquil eyes and bloodless skin and blood; white clothes that drape in a way that show they're far too big for such a childish figure.

God is a liar. You note. God is a pathological liar, throwing out lies left and right until you cover his mouth with a chloroform cloth and drag him off the stage.

There is a reason why God speaks in thoughts and ideas. You've played a game of chess against God and neither of you won. You took his voice in payment.

"Have you heard of the butterfly effect?" You explain. "Tell a lie, let it skim out like a pebble over the surface of a pond; If it creates enough ripples, if the whole world believes, then the effect is the same as telling a thousand little lies."

'Huh.' God says. He looks condescending in a way he had never been in real life, but you put that off as a trick of the light.

There are four types of liars, you conclude after considering the paradox of God and His creations. Four types of liars and four types of lies.

The first are the simple lies. The ones that have no name because they're all that common. These belong to the children to trick their mothers into thinking they've passed their tests when they've failed them spectacularly ;to the parents who tell their daughters not to kiss boys because 'they have cooties' when everyone knows that's not true; to their lovers who tell their partners their cooking does not suck, when in fact it does. These lies are boring, ingrained in the act of being human. God throws a chess piece-a pawn, at you, and tells you to move on.

The second type of lies are the ones politicians tell to enchant their audience. The ones you hear when you turn on the TV to watch how the elections in America are going. They're so obviously scripted, so obviously full of bullshit that you have no idea how people actually fall for them. Those lies have a point to them, they're double edged swords that can get you cancelled on social media by a dozen or so international companies.

'Those lies are boring too.' God summons a plate of cake out of nowhere and tells you to change the scene.

The third type of lies are white lies. These are the ones God tells, wrapping up the truth in soft marshmallow cotton and gifting it to the world. Faking a show to give them an enemy so someone else can play a hero and save the earth. These are the ones that grandchildren tell to their grandparents when they're on the brink of death but cannot leave because of the overwhelming worry - force a smile, say 'It's fine, we'll be okay.' - to give them the chance to pass away.

"These are the good lies." You present your points on a memo, show your arguments to God. "Well, as good as lies can get, that is."

God props his head on a hand and you realise there's always been a bandage wrapped around his fourth finger like a Halloween themed marriage ring.

'Go on.' He says. 'Finish it. I'm tired.'

And so you do.

The fourth type of lie is the one you are well versed in.
'Fiction. Writing a book, writing a script, getting the characters to stick together until the end.' Imagine a world, carve in the details, piece together the history until it all comes together. Stand behind a screen and watch the viewer rates rise when your job is finished. Watch them believe in your creations.
"It is related to the metaphor of skipping pebbles," You tell God as you adjust your glasses. "Fiction is a lie, until the whole world believes. Then it becomes reality."

You praise yourself for creating a piece of fiction so indiscernible from reality that it had almost broken the statistics department until it did not.

'You're getting arrogant.' God remarks as He finishes the last bite of his cake. The look in His eyes reminds you of how many fans He had gathered with His performance alone before you had to step in and say something about it.

"You're a little brat." You retort back. If you have the capabilities to perform on the same level as God, you suppose that you are a god too.

God laughs. Only He doesn't, because God is a squashed body in a hydraulic press and He does not have a mouth to laugh with anymore.

'You made me that way.' He states, and that isn't a lie.

"So I did." You smile, and wave your hand meaningfully. A new game of chess appears on the table between the two of you. The hundredth, thousandth, representory-nth- game of chess you've played in this never ending loop.

'I think.' God offers his view on the matter at heart when he settles down to toy with a king. 'Lies are a pretty good constant, if you get what I mean. Unlike soda. Soda's a little bitch. If you shake it so hard that it foams, you can't control how much comes out and then there's an ugly sopping mess you have to clean up. If I had to find a metaphor for lies, then I guess it would be bubblegum. Bubblegum swells up as long as you've got the technique right. Like lies. Get the meaning across and the intention will show. Lies are easy to control. You can predict a lie.

God slurps in his chair and takes a chug from his bottle of soda. When you lean across the table to kiss him, he tastes like grapes and carbonated drinks.

But that's a lie, too. Because 'you' no longer exist.