an_interview_with_god sabbie (By Sherri S. Tepper) "A very small being to see you, O God," the angelic servitor announced. The servitor looked very much like [Marjorie's confessor] Father Sandoval except he had wings. Marjorie paused in the vaulted and gauzy doorway to inspect them. They were not swan's wings, which she had expected, but translucent insect wings, like those of a giant dragonfly. Anatomically, they made more sense than birds wings, since they were in addition to, rather than in place of, the upper appendages. The angel glared at her. "Yes, yes," said God patiently. "Come in." God stood before a tall window draped in cloud. Outside were the gardens of [Marjorie's residence] Opal Hill, stretching away vista upon vista. After a moment, Marjorie realised the garden was made of stars. "How do you do," Marjorie heard herself saying. He looked like someone she knew. Smaller than she thought He would be. Very bony about the face, with huge eyes, though the person she knew, whoever he was, had never worn his hair as long as God wore His, a dark curling about his shoulders, a white mane at his temples. "Welcome, very small being," He said, smiling. Light filled the universe. "Was something bothering you?" "I can learn to accept that you do not know my name," Marjorie said. "Though it came as a shock..." "Wait," He said. "I know the true names of everything. What do you mean I do not know your name?" "I mean you do not know I'm Marjorie." "Marjorie," He mouthed, as though HE found the sound unfamiliar. "True, I did not know you were called Marjorie." "It seems very harsh. Very cruel. To be a virus." "I would not have said virus, but you believe it's cruel to be something that will spread?" He asked. "Even if that's what's needed?" She nodded, ashamed. "You must be having a difficult time. Very small beings do have difficult times. That's what I create them for. If there weren't difficult concepts to pull out of nothing and built into creation, One wouldn't need very small beings. The large almost parts make themselves." He gestured at the universe spinning beneath them. 'Elementary chemistry, a little exceptional mathematics, and there it is, working away like a furnace. It's the details that take the time to grow, to evolve, to become. The oil in the bearings, so to speak. What are you working on now?" "I'm not sure," she said. The angel in the doorway spoke impatiently. "The very small being is working on mercy, Sir. And justice. And guilt." "Mercy? And Justice?" Interesting concepts. Almost worthy of direct creation rather than letting them evolve. I wouldn't waste my time on guilt. Still, I have confidence you'll all work your way through the permutations to the proper ends..." "I don't have much confidence," she said. "A lot of what I've been taught isn't making sense." "That's the nature of teaching. Something happens, and intelligence first apprehends it, then makes up a rule about it, then tried to pass the rule along. Very small beings invariably operate in that way. However, but the time the information is passed on new things are happening that the old rule doesn't fit. Eventually intelligence learns to stop making rules and understand the flow." "I was told that the eternal verities..." "Like what?" God laughed. "If there were any, I should know! I have created a universe based on change, and a very small being speaks to me of eternal verities!" "I didn't mean to offend. It's just, if there are no verities, how do we know what's true?" "You don't offend. I don't create things that are offensive to me. As for truth, what's true is what's written. Every created thing bears my intention written in it. Rocks. Stars. Very small beings. Everything only runs one way naturally, the way I mean it to. The trouble is that one of the very small beings write books that contradict the rocks, then say I wrote the books and the rocks are lies." He laughed. The universe trembled. "They invent rules of behaviours that even angels can't obey, and they say I thought them up. Pride of authorship." He chuckled. "They say, 'Oh, these words are eternal, so God must have written them.'" "Your Awesomeness." said the angel from the door. "Your meeting to review the Arbai failure..." "Ah, tsk," said God. "Now there's an example. I failed completely with that one. Tried something new, but they were too good to do any good, you know?" "I've been told that's what you want," she said. "For us to be good!" He patted her on the shoulder. "Too good is good for nothing. A chisel has to have an edge, my dear. Otherwise it simply stirs things around without ever cutting through to causes and realities..." "Your Awesomeness," the angel said again, testily. "Very small being, you're keeping God from his work." "Remember," said God, "While it is true I did not know that _you_ believe your name is Marjorie, I do know who _you_ really are..." (Tepper, Sherri S. _Grass_ pp 427-9) 010917 ... three words sisters_of_mercy i_fell_in_love_with_a_girl an_interview_with_god 050708 what's it to you? who go blather from