The God in the Machine

The Three Lives Of Subject A (Part 1) - Genesis

I am not God. I have no name. I existed in nothingness before your concept of time. I am the primordial energy that condensed at a single point, reaching an infinite density and exploding, expanding to fill the empty universe with celestial bodies. I had no plan or design; creation itself was a product of my own being. All living and nonliving things exist due to my listless presence.

Occasionally I introspect, and I question my purpose; however, I'm the force that created the universe; who would I be rhetorically looking to for answers? Even with my nigh-endless knowledge accrued over billions of years of observation and unfathomable calculative power, it is still unclear why I have a sense of self. Was there an even higher power that created me and another that created them ad infinitum? How many layers are there to the narrative of reality? There are problems like these that truly have no solution. I am the beginning, the source of all things, but with these gaps in my knowledge, unanswered questions, and search for reason, I am not God.

Now, I am a passive observer, drifting from one end of the universe to the other, witnessing the overarching narrative over the individual. I have been mislabeled as one deity or another and blamed for whatever mindless atrocities you all committed in my name, but my true form had never meddled. For ten billion years since my first act as the creator, I watched as gas clouds condensed into stars and hydrogen fused into helium, bringing a brilliant light to the formations that would become galaxies. I observed the stardust take shape into planets and marveled at how celestial bodies gathered into solar systems.

By relinquishing control over the formation of my universe, I was filled with wonder as the chaos began to take order. Then, almost four billion years ago, life was born. In a universe devoid of life, only one planet birthed living beings. The crawl of evolution became my focus over time, and not knowing the eventual outcome of its progress made the journey worth it. From microorganisms to bacteria to plants to fish to mammals, I began to see the harmony in nature. The niches filled, all life had its purpose, and the first intelligent creatures were born.

More than anything, I delighted in seeing disorder become harmonious, but humanity presented a new challenge. Humans took the delicate balance that the beings of earth enjoyed and disrupted it. As the first sentient creatures, humans could understand abstract concepts and reason in a more crude way than I but could reason, nonetheless. They could introspect, they could search for purpose, and they could attribute meaning to the meaningless. I maintained my stance of non-interference for two million years after they became intelligent. Ideally, they would fulfill my curiosity as their species grew and prospered, creating technological wonders while solving the mysteries of the universe, but history proceeded differently.

Twelve thousand years ago, humans began to settle into communities and cooperate more intelligently. From scuttling around gathering berries and eating raw animals, they had learned to coexist and communicate while working towards a common goal. This was promising, but eventually, petty disputes popped up over resources and newly established religions and gods. Watching the constant conflict got old quickly.

Their deaths were pointless, and their lives were short. The attraction that compelled them to breed was crude and inefficient. Their fierce individuality did nothing but throw a wrench in the gears of progress. Humans had a selfish nature and would only unite for a common threat or when it suited their personal goals. It became aggravating seeing them make progress and letting it all go to waste. I nearly broke down and wiped Europe off the map during the dark ages. War was entertaining only when the arms race pushed technology and culture further but watching tribes run each other through with spears, men ransacking villages for no reason other than greed and lust, and soldiers neatly lining up to be torn to pieces by guns and mortars had no value to me.

Seeing how they viewed their lives and gods, I was both displeased and bewildered. Eventually, I began to question if the humans were on track for destruction. I had watched their progress for millions of years, waiting for a shift towards uniformity, but the outcome looked abysmal for their species. I would welcome destruction as a natural cosmic send-off, but the crude nuclear apocalypse or mutual destruction with biowarfare they headed for disgusted me; it was the quickest way to ruin my favorite past-time. 

The option of intervening with their path was one that I began to consider for the first time since the very beginning. I knew that life had so much potential to entertain and decided that it would be best to see if I should push to realize that potential. This decision led to the beginning of the trials, the beginning of the first life of Subject A.

Subject A was my vessel for discovering the best path for humanity. Subject A would be born a male in America. He would be physically healthy, without deformities or heritable mental illness. He was a clean slate, perfect for experimentation. Subject A would possess natural intelligence to minimize the risk of failure due to circumstances beyond my control. The experiment's goals were as follows: observe the human inclination to ascribe purpose to their lives when given various obstacles and challenging environments, establish what the idea of a higher power means for humanity, and find if humans needed my divine intervention to place them on a more entertaining path.

Subject A would be incarnated at the same point in time to the same parents for every trial. I would do nothing to alter his personality manually but would not refrain from tweaking the minds of those around him. The circumstances behind his birth, the events he encountered, and the people he met were all subject to change.

By the time I had devised the specifics behind the experiment, my curiosity was at an all-time high. Finally, after millions of years of witnessing the endless failures of humanity, I could take the reins and shape destiny. I wrote the laws of the universe and watched the birth and death of 100 billion humans, but with all this information, I still was not satisfied with my understanding of life. This was my chance. Nearing the 21st century of the Gregorian calendar, Subject A was born, his life determining the future of all sentient creatures.