Gods Can't Quit

"And this is... what?"

I gulped, clammy palms wiping down my thighs, nails scratching at my knees. "It's a... um... Letter of r-resignation..."

He lay my paper on his desk, pinching his brow with a heavy sigh. "Gods can't quit. That's not how it works." He leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of a pen against his chin. "Why would you want to quit anyway? You've got millions of followers, and they all adore you."

"Well... You see..." My voice snagged in my throat like driftwood caught in a net, tightening with every breath. I scowled, shaking myself free. "I've said everything I need to in the letter." I watched him scan his eyes across it again, though I could tell nothing of it was going in.

"For too long, mortals have been using my name for blasphemy. They claim they love me, yet they've completely misinterpreted my teachings. I've been called 'the almighty one,' still my will is put to question. What is there to debate? I thought I was clear enough in my messaging."

He snickered, highlighting the dimple in his cheek. "That's what these creatures are like. Tell them to go east, they'll head west, then blame you when they're lost."

"All I said was, 'do no evil, keep love in your heart, and return what you take.' That should have been plain. I-I watched them write it in their books, word-for-word. They carved it into stone, and they passed it on to their children."

"So what's the problem?"

I can only offer a shrug at first. "They re-wrote their books. They scratched off the stone, and dismissed their children. Now they have my words understood as 'do evil, claim love and withhold it, and take until there is nothing left.'"

"Sounds about right."

"So you know what I mean?"

"Of course. Back in my day, the only commandment I gave was 'honour your people' - by which I meant all their people, all mortals. But they interpreted it a bit too literally. They thought 'their people' only included their clans, and so they slaughtered everyone else."

"Exactly! Mortals who claim to love me are killing each other! They twisted my gospel to justify and absolve them of their sinful ways - of the things I made very clear they will be condemned for in their afterlife. I just wanted them to be kind to one another, regardless of their differences, because they are all truly equal in my eyes. And yet, it's like... like I'm being challenged."

"They reshape your teachings then blame you when your so-called followers tear each other apart. Then more of them abandon you because it must be your fault..." He tilted his head with a shrug. "You're not the first god to go through it, we all have."

"Then you know how it feels? You see why I want to quit?"

He sighed. "I do... but it's not that simple. You know, none of us ever really quit, we just take a break and let someone else step up. We're still on call though. If mortals were to pray to us, we'd have to answer. You could do the same."

"And what do I do in the meantime? How long will they keep using me to justify hurting one another? To impose control over the vulnerable? That's not reverence, that's them trying to replace me!"

"Someone would replace you if you quit, so what's the difference?"

"That's not the same! They want to reshape the entire world in a way that benefits them in this brief age - that satisfies their gluttony at the cost of starving everyone else. They'd use my name to get as far as they could then claim godhood for themselves. And I'd get the blame!" My voice quivered, and I felt tears bulge in my eyes. "I'm not doing it anymore! I've given them everything, and it's still not enough!"

He offered me a tissue. "As I say, we've all been there - known the handful of mortals seeking divinity through false devotion. You aren't the first to experience it, and you won't be the last. But you can't quit. You have to be there for those who still live by your teachings, who truly revere you and practice by your guidance. Keep them in love and joy, and shun those who would invoke your name for evil to a silence of bitter hate. Their afterlife will take it from there. Hold your chin up, and don't worry about them too much. They're only mortals after all."

I sniffled, wiping my eyes. "I know... But I can't stop loving them. For all the wrong they do. I just want what's best for them - all of them."

"We all do."

"M-Maybe... maybe I need to send another prophet - try sorting all this out like I did last time."

He grimaced. "That... did not end well. The poor kid was traumatized."

"Yeah, but it sort of worked, didn't it?"

"You were young and inexperienced in your early days. We've all been there - made it all about us, got too involved with mortals, scared them senseless. So we backtrack, send a prophet to clear things up, share a new gospel now that we're older and wiser... Still we really only do that once. And the way they are now, would they believe it if one of yours showed up to set them right?"

I slumped, staring down at my hands. When did I get so old? I wondered. It hadn't even been ten thousand years, and yet... I'd become so frail. So tired of it all. "You're saying I shouldn't bother trying?"

"I'm saying that they've changed... a lot. To the point where they don't want to change anymore. Some might be up for it, but a lot more will deny any of it is true."

"What if I do it? They'll have to believe it if it comes straight from me! 'Stop killing each other! Love each other! Be kind!' Surely they'll listen then!"

"They might. For a while. After a few generations, they'll have forgotten all about it."

"How can I make them listen and remember?"

"You can't." He sunk into a slouch. "Send a flood, an earthquake, a tornado, even a firestorm... They'll see it, think about it for a while, then move on. For creatures that hate change, they get over tragedy rather quickly." He chuckled. "You know, when it was my turn, I sent a flock of ravens over a battlefield. They wrote stories about them - weaving it into their culture. Then after a while, they stopped caring what it meant. They wanted war, they made it happen."

"I've done plagues of insects, wildfires, disease, floods, and famine, and they still haven't taken notice. Even when I had followers begging for aid, their leaders promised me their prayers. I never received them. And the ones who actually suffered? For some of them, their prayers stopped the moment they finished rebuilding."

"They beg and take and plunder, but the second things go their way, it's not 'thank you,' it's 'about time.'"

"So why do any of us keep doing it?"

"As much as they may try to achieve godhood themselves, so long as at least one of us is beloved, other mortals will hold them back. We're all that's stopping them from becoming, well, unstoppable."

"We just have to exist, and be here when they have real need of us..."

"Exactly. We have our ways of making ourselves known. Through their artists, their musicians, their doctors and scientists, even in the wind through the trees, the sun on their skin, the creatures around them, and of the very planet that sustains them, we say 'no matter who you are, you are loved, and you are not alone.' That comes from all of us. You included."

"I... I see."

"So... Still want to quit?"

"I... I'll have to think about it."