The God in the Machine

The Three Lives of Subject A (Part 4) - An Ending and a Beginning

Trial 3

Laying alone in a hospital bed was Subject A, a quiet man who was nearing the end of his life. He stared blankly at the ceiling and listened to the faint drip of the IV while he filtered through a lifetime of memories. The doctors told him he didn't have long. They expected he would last at most another week. He sorted through blurry experiences, hoping to find anything that would stand out, anything that could make him fear or welcome death. Having nothing to regret in your final moments is not as beautiful as they make it out to be, and it doesn't mean you are not profoundly unfulfilled. To Subject A, the fact that he couldn't find anything to regret was proof that he never managed to make a choice daring enough that it would have made his life worthwhile. He was left with no catastrophic mistakes or great achievements, only 50 years of mediocrity.

Breaking his life down into a series of quick, concise facts goes something like this. He was an only child in a stable household with a father who provided and a mother who cared for the house. The family was secular. Growing up, he had enough social life not to raise concern but never cared deeply about his peers. He performed well in school but never did anything notable with this moderate talent. His mother died. He graduated from college and worked in multimedia marketing at a profitable corporation. His father died. He fell out of touch with all of his childhood friends and rarely made new ones. He courted women but didn't have the commitment needed for a meaningful relationship. He slowly made his way up the corporate ladder landing an easy, mind-numbing position in a field he had little interest in. 

The last dot to add to this list would be cancer, which landed him in the hospital bed he was fated to die in just before he could make it to retirement age. He slowly and shakily brought together his hands to close out this boring, mediocre life. With his body sunk into the bed and his hands together in prayer, he began his piece. I was ready for the typical final cry for salvation. In this life, Subject A seemed to be a classic case of the coward who never dabbles in religion but begs for a lifeline at the very end, or so it seemed. With the beeps of his heart rate monitor becoming less frequent as his blood pressure steadily dropped, I tuned in for his third and last round of final words.

"I might as well get this off my chest because I want you to hear it. I don't know if there is a heaven or hell, so I won't ask for salvation. You're not the kind of merciful, loving God people want. You could do anything, but you do nothing. You don't love us, your creation. You watch all of us suffer without getting our hands dirty. Do you hate us? Are we a joke to you? Do we at least entertain you? My life may never have amounted to anything, but neither will your existence. You have as little need to exist as I do, but at least I get to get a few kicks out of my time here and then disappear. You'll be stuck meaninglessly watching your pathetic creation fumble around until they die. How long until you get sick of it? I bet you already are. How long until you step in? I bet you won't. I have nothing to thank you for. Enjoy eternity." With that, he died and ended his thought.

In an unexpected turn, Subject A managed to muster up more bitterness towards me, or more accurately his idea of God, on this trial than when he hurtled towards the ground at 36 meters per second. I was intrigued by his attitude and parting words. I wondered where this entitlement came from. What made him think that something was holding him back from a better life when he simply never sought out any opportunity to make it better? It seemed to me that Subject A having just enough not to be left wanting but not enough to excel in anything made him more disillusioned than having a traditionally good or bad life. 

His spite toward God was strangely personal. He was right. I have never loved my creation, but why should I? Humans cannot provide me with anything more than entertainment; if they don't, they aren't justifying their existence in my eyes. Subject A did manage to amuse me with his last thoughts, though; assuming I wouldn't step in would prove to be quite the mistake. Thanks to his lives I felt I had a much better grasp on the ways of humanity, and their kind desperately needed revision.

End Of Case Study

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A Final Note

Hello humanity, for the first time, I am directly addressing you. It must be shocking that there is a voice in your head that isn't yours or imaginary. I consider this address a final courtesy, do with it what you will. It has been quite the experience learning about the human condition, but I believe I have now had my fun. I pray that hearing the woeful tale of Subject A has given you some form of enlightenment and that in the instant between the end of this message and the end of your existence, you feel some small understanding.

Allow me to explain the restructuring of your species going forward. Your fierce individualism and selfish nature made the viewing experience fun for some time until it became repetitive and exhausting. After some thorough experimentation, I have decided to tone down those aspects and make humanity a more cohesive and collectivist group. But don't worry, I know all too well that if I remove conflict altogether, I will quickly become bored, so I plan to throw some massive tragedy into the mix periodically. 

Something is enthralling about humans overcoming adversity. A life without obstacles would only bring laziness and stagnation. So expect a plague, a meteor, or natural disasters for you all when things get too comfortable. You may be thinking, "So we have become your ant farm?" to which I reply yes, yes, you have. I am watching all your troubled and fearful faces from above, but you have nothing to worry about. My new humanity will put on the best show this universe has ever seen. Be honored that you have served me, your creator, and led me to this long-awaited conclusion. Well, that will be all. Goodbye, humans, and I look forward to our next adventure.

My address was complete. With a thought, I turned the clock 4 billion years back, and I started over.

So my tinkering began.

It has now been 100,000 years since modern humans reemerged, and I am having the time of my life. I left them to their own devices, and after 10,000 years, they had already reached the civilization level of the previous humanity. Joyfully I gave them vastly more potent tuberculosis. Beyond my expectation, only 30% of the population was wiped out, showcasing new humans' startling adaptivity. Many similar instances occurred over the next 90,000 years. I would allow them to be a hair's breadth from utopia before plunging them back into despair. Worry not, it was always two steps forward, one step back. 

My cherished species has reached the stars and tirelessly aims to unravel the secrets of the universe. They can cry, laugh, feel pain, and feel joy, but they now exist with an artificially engrained purpose. To them, that purpose is to strive for a better world arm in arm with the rest of their kind. They will never know their true purpose, what I really put them on this planet for. 

Scuttle around my precious ants, and whatever you do, don't bore me.