THE END
“Am I in hell?” asked The Father.
“You were greeted at the golden arch. What did the woman in the grey skirt say to you?” asked Hitler.
“Welcome to heaven” replied The Father.
“We don’t lie here in heaven,” said Hitler.
“But if this is heaven, why are there bad people?” asked The Father.
“I’m sure they’re not all bad people,” said Hitler.
“Each and every one I’ve met, every face I’ve seen except for my wife and child, were and still are; arseholes. Every one of them. And here, in heaven, they’re just the same. Is this a joke?” asked The Father.
“Everyone is an arsehole to someone. I’m sure there’s someone out there who just saw you enter and thought, ‘oh great, here comes that arsehole, well that’s not fair’. Everyone’s an arsehole and every arsehole is welcome in The Kingdom of Heaven” said Hitler.
“What happened here? I mean, you should be in hell. You’re Hitler. You should be rotting in fucking hell. The fucking Nazis are running heaven. Those were Nazis, right? At the gates? They beat me. They did things to my wife and god knows if they did anything to my daughter” said The Father.
“God doesn’t know. Outside the gates is technically transitional and therefore kind of tricky with the rule of heaven so we only really have say on what happens inside” said Hitler.
“Where is God in all of this?” said The Father.
“It is in every one of us,” said Hitler.
“No. God wouldn’t permit this. That’s why it created hell” said The Father.
“So you believe in god now and you know what it wants,” said Hitler. “How could he approve of this? Turning heaven into a prison” said The Father.
“How many children do you have?” asked Hitler.
“Two,” said The Father.
“A boy and a girl, yes?” asked Hitler.
“Yeah, what about it?” asked The Father.
“Your girl was a good girl, not very bright for her age, but she was a good girl. And your son?” asked Hitler.
“He was a good boy, he just made some mistakes. A lot of people made mistakes” said The Father.
“Do you know what fractals are?” asked Hitler.
“What?”
“It’s a type of mathematics, geometry actually. The equation on the back of your neck, the tattoo you got at the dispatch center, do you know what it means?” asked Hitler.
“No”
“Z=Z²+C. It’s what we call a god equation. It is god’s reflection, god’s voice, in formula” said Hitler.
“I don’t get it. What is it?” asked The Father.
“It explains existence. It explains god and it was supposed to prepare you for heaven” said Hitler.
“I’m not a mathematician, I don’t understand,” said The Father.
“Imagine god as a mirror ball and existence is that mirror ball shattered into a billion tiny fragments; all the same shape, some tiny, some tinier and the image of god is caught in every single piece. You can pick the smallest piece and you will always find the image of god looking back at you and you can shatter that piece into a billion more and you will never be a stranger to what you find. For every piece; as a division of the whole is the whole itself as it’s being divided” said Hitler.
“So I am God.”
“No, you are not. Well kind of” said Hitler.
“I still don’t get it”
“Have you heard the term Agape?”
“Yeah, It’s a Greek word for love.”
“A type of love.”
“Not any love. This is not the love for your lover or the love for your brother. This is a love that cannot be acquired or learned or taught or bargained or stolen. This is a love that is born.”
“The love of god amidst any trial. The love that man has for god.”
“No, it is not. That is what your idiot theodolites thought. The love of god is debatable. It is transferable. It is returnable. And it is doubtable. But god’s love of its children, there is no bargain, there is no debate. This is Agape. This is unconditional love. Not for man to god, but for god, to mankind, to each and every child. God’s love is undivided. It is as pure with one as it is with another, regardless of what one might have done to another on Earth or as it is, in Heaven. Your son. Do you love him?”
“Of course,” said The Father.
“Explain this love,” said Hitler.
“I don’t know. He was my first child. When he was born it felt like my heart exploded. I cried for the first time. I started to really feel; this bitter sweet cocktail of fear and love together”
“Your son did a lot of bad things. Some very bad things, in fact, but you still love him even though the effect of his wrong upset you, embarrassed you, angered you” said Hitler.
“He made a lot of stupid decisions, but he’s my son. I love him. It doesn’t matter what he does. He’s my blood, from my heart and I’ll pick up his pieces as much as I have to until he’s whole” said The Father.
“Even though he killed your daughter?” said Hitler.
“It was an accident,” said The Father.
“That’s not what your heart says,” said Hitler.
The Father said nothing.
“I had a dog once. I very much loved him in that way. I spent a week once with Goebbels and Himmler, preparing our Russian offence strategy. It was perfect. When we came back from tea the dog had chewed up all of the wooden tanks and shat on The Netherlands. I shot him immediately, but I loved him, just like you love your son. His name was Nibbles” said Hitler.
“What does this have to do with god?” asked The Father.
“You son and your daughter, they fought all the time. Kids, they always do. One has something the other wants; one hits the other, the other cries and blah blah blah. Now, when your children are arguing in the car, slapping and cursing and racing your blood when you get home, do you choose one over the other? Do you make one sleep on the street?” asked Hitler. “Of course not,” said The Father.
“God is no different. It doesn’t matter what its children do to each other, it can’t choose one over the other. It loves them all unconditionally and all of them are welcome home. There is no hell. It’s just something god says. Like when your kids were young and you told them you’d run away if they didn’t stop fighting. You were never going to run away. It’s just a god thing. And the equation on your neck, that is the signature of god” said Hitler.
“So we are children of god and no matter what bad shit you do, you’re welcome into heaven? There’s no hell?” asked The Father.
“Exactly. This here, this collection of souls; this is God. God is the sum of all the collected parts. God is the whole equation and part of the equation. It prepared you for this” said Hitler.
“Why do you say it? Isn’t god a man?” asked The Father.
“God is it. Remember the general at the grey table; Eichmann?” asked Hitler.
“Yes,” said The Father.
“He was God. And you met a striking girl in an alluring grey skirt. Alluring, but not slutty, yes?” said Hitler.
“Yeah, I did,” said The Father.
“That was God,” said Hitler.
“God is a hermaphrodite?” asked The Father.
“God is whole, what equates from any sum. It prepared you for this” said Hitler.
“How?” asked The Father.
“Oh, you saw it everywhere. The conscious mind to the subconscious mind. You to your son, a rider to a horse, a conductor to an orchestra, zero to one, the government to its people, the preacher to the preached, a teacher to a student and man unto dog… I could go on for an eternity. Every part of existence played its part of the whole, replication in its own unique vibration, the same existence was a fractal of god, it was the nature of god repeated more and more minute. Together it looked very complex and when swept up by human emotion it was very easy to get confused and be taken away by the seriousness o
f it all but at its core, everything was a reflection of god. Existence is singular; an infinite singularity caught in its own mirrored reflection going on and on and on and on again. Your son killed your daughter and he killed your wife and he killed you, long before that crash. You died along time before your heart stopped beating. We’ve had your soul here, part of it anyway, waiting for this very meet. He tore up the hand brake to spite you. Children do this. They love to spite god, to spite their beliefs. Do you still love him? You told him that you blamed him. You said it was his fault before you died. Do you still carry that torch?” asked Hitler.
“No.”
“So you forgive him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain.”
“But you want to see him again.”
“So very much.”
“Now you know how god feels. It doesn’t matter what his children have done. His love is louder than their rebellion. It whispers consolingly in their hearts as they sleep. Just as your love for your son has you here now, forgiving me” said The Son, as before the Father’s eyes a trick of light brought a flood of relief to his heart and he rushed forwards and took his son in his arms.
“I didn’t mean it,” said The Son.
“I love you,” said The Father.
“I set that fire,” said The Son, tears flowing down his face and streaming onto The Father who had a smile on his face, one he had only felt in the moments his children were born.
“I know,” said The Father.
The Father held his son to his chest. His eyes caught in a heavy rain, the thick clouds that had circled his mind all of these years, finally pouring down on his soul and washing away the stains of his depression.
“I’m so sorry dad,” said The Son.
“I hate you,” said The Father holding his son for the first time.
husband, father, son, brother, philosopher, story teller, recluse
Also by C. Sean McGee:
A Rising Fall (CITY b00k 001)
Utopian Circus (CITY b00k 011)
Heaven is Full of Arseholes
Coffee and Sugar
Christine
Rock Book Volume I: The Boy from the County Hell
Rock Book Volume II: Dark Side of the Moon
Alex and The Gruff (a tale of horror)
The Terror{blist}
StalkerWindows:
BedroomWindow
BathroomWindow
LoungeWindow
LibraryWindow
The Free Art Collection ©2014 CSM Publishing
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