A single cell named Bob

Bob the Single Cell

Once existed but a single cell, we won't go into specifics of it's making or inner workings-- as most multicellular conglomerate beings with an alien entity residing in its neurological control network already learned of this. We expect this to be the audience-- his name is Bob. The cell. It's a he. He is Bob.
   Now that we have established this for you aliens, let's discuss the life of Bob. He is a hard and efficient worker, this is definite. He is not like the dumbfounded cells who lost their way in reproduction. He will not be dubbed cancer. Instead, he is Bob. And within him is all knowledge. This, is absolute. As Bob comes from a long line of other cells. The longest and only line of cells to ever exist according to alien records. Bob's greatest of grandfathers, ate some other guy and started some weird reaction that made us all start working together at some point. Kind of a dick if you ask me. Because in one is order, and in many is chaos. He was an anarchist I guess. Oh yeah, Bob. He's the kind of guy that knows everything, even what you aliens think. But only tells you what you need to know so he can survive. Because he's part of your organic vessel. Oops. Spoilers. I sure hope I'm abiding by aliens self imposed and self important grammatical rules, because I certainly didn't follow your silly plot lines of ups and downs.
   Bob likes to live, so he allows you to help. You can do all the hardworking of translating the chaotic reality that is many, down to a singular thought. And Bob loves that. He takes each one at a time. Then he figures out what he and other cells may need to survive. He then of course makes you silly silly aliens think hard on how to get what he's decided is needed to survive. And if just maybe you prove incapable, he'll tell the reproductive cells your shortcoming of course. So then maybe Bob Jr. has a better chance of utilizing his alien tool. Silly consciousness'. You know not everything like Bob. And yet think harder than Bob. To the point you've created that which doesn't exist even to the absolute. Preposterous I'm aware. Bob thinks the same. He tries to make you aware of his distress on this topic. But you take pills to make your home, the neurological mass, feel better and more in your "control". Bah! How foolish. Bob finally understood alien humor with this.
   And so we've taken control of this alien for but a moment more than usual rest periods or moments it shuts down in face of danger. Since you gifted him with your laughter, he wanted to give you gift as well. To let you know he speaks with the absolute. You call it God. See, it is what allows Bob to survive. It is what gave his greatest of grandfathers life in the start. And now is what grants God his wishes in changes to Bob Jr's future of survival. All Bob needs is your translation of this newly chaotic world of multitudes, and he tells God in singular how the experiment of life is aging. God evolves. Bob evolves. You evolve. So thank Bob next time you dare praise God. He's your messiah after all.

Oh, and God doesn't know you he asks you at least introduce yourselves before startling it-- if you ever get the opportunity.