[ WP ] God , wanting to retire , takes corporeal form and attempts to convince the world he 's not real .

The Serpent chuckled when he saw his visitor. It was a dry, rasping noise, the sound of a heavy oak door being closed over desert sand. The summer heat was bearing down upon them both and it would be hours until there was any respite, but the visitor did n't seem to mind: his robes hung loose around his portly frame, the linen flowing in a gentle ripple even though there was n't even the faintest hint of a breeze. 
 
'It's been a long time,' the Serpent said at last.'I thought you might have forgotten about me.' 
 
 There was no danger of that. He was not the forgiving sort, and his memory was long – too long, perhaps. That was part of the problem.'Liar,' he said. 
 
 The Serpent would have shrugged, way back when, but he had long since adapted to his limitations.'I am what I am,' he said simply.'You should know that.' 
 
'I do.' 
 
 They sat in silence, watching the skittering insects as they raced around his feet. At first the Serpent thought they were just seeking out shade, but there was more to it than that. Everything was drawn to him eventually. He had that strange sort of magnetism, an oasis of calm in a world of troubles. 
 
 Even after everything, the Serpent still felt more at peace with him around. He hated himself for that. 
 
'I'm here to say goodbye,' the visitor said eventually. 
 
 ‘ I thought we settled that after the Garden? ’ the Serpent hissed. There was anger in his voice – anger that surprised him, that he thought had long since been locked away. ‘ Your goodbye seemed pretty final then. ’ 
 
 ‘ Things change. Even for me. ’ 
 
 ‘ Evidently. ’ 
 
'I... misjudged things,' he said. It was the closest the Serpent had ever heard to an admission of wrongness.'A few small errors. Things I thought were for the best turned out not to be so.' 
 
 ‘ If it ’ s the whole free will issue, I ’ m pretty sure I warned you about that. ’ 
 
 ‘ It ’ s not. ’ 
 
 ‘ Then what? ’ 
 
 ‘ Hope, ’ he said simply. ‘ Too much hope. ’ 
 
 The Serpent laughed at that, a series of hoarse barking that split the desert air and sent waves down his slender body. ‘ Well, well, ’ he said. ‘ And there was you maintaining that hope was what made them glorious. How wonderful for you. ’ 
 
 ‘ It is, ’ the visitor said. ‘ There ’ s just too much of it. They spend their lives wondering about what comes next, rather than living in the moment. ’ He sighed. ‘ I supposed I just didn ’ t make that clear enough. ’ 
 
'So what happens next? Back to the drawing board? Universe 2.0?' 
 
 The visitor shook his head.'I do n't think so. Not yet. This one was my fault, not theirs. They deserve a fair shake at it.' 
 
'They've had thousands of years.' 
 
'No, they have n't, ’ he said. ‘ That's the problem.' The visitor picked up a beetle from the sand and held it between his stubby fingers. Six legs kicked and flailed in the air under a hard carapace. ‘ Look at him, ’ he said. ‘ Isn ’ t he beautiful? ’ 
 
 The Serpent sighed. *You and your riddles*, he thought. ‘ Yes. Positively charming. What do you mean, they haven ’ t? ’ 
 
 ‘ They lost their way. ’ 
 
 ‘ That ’ ll happen without guidance. ’ 
 
 ‘ Or with too much. Too many rules… it made it hard for them to grow. ’ He paused. ‘ Do you remember the Greeks?' 
 
'Vaguely.' 
 
'Funny little people. Western Mediterranean… not too far from here, in fact. Very big on columns. They used to tell stories about a man named Atlas who carried the weight of the cosmos on his shoulders. The burden of the ages. Can you imagine that?' The snake shook his head.'Well, they did. Poor bastard. ’ 
 
 ‘ It wasn ’ t supposed to be fun. It was meant to be a punishment. ’ 
 
 ‘ I can ’ t imagine it being anything but, ’ the visitor said. ‘ There ’ s a saying down here. “ I ask not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders. ” They do love their little soundbites. Everything in one convenient package, all ready to be sent off for consumption at the earliest opportunity. Anything quotable will be passed on. ’ 
 
 ‘ It ’ s the best way to sell an idea, ’ the Serpent said. ‘ Tried and true. What ’ s wrong with that? ’ 
 
 ‘ It misses the point. They shouldn ’ t be asking for broader shoulders. They shouldn ’ t be asking for anything at all. I can ’ t. The beetle can ’ t. Why should they? What makes them so special? ’ As soon as he had said it, the visitor found himself unable to stifle a dissatisfied smirk. ‘ I suppose I rather walked into that one, didn ’ t I? ’ 
 
 ‘ Rather. ’ 
 
 ‘ So yes. That ’ s why I have to go. That ’ s why they have to learn that I ’ m not going to help them anymore. If they want broader shoulders, they ’ re just going to have to work harder to build them up themselves. They need to learn that it ’ s OK to fail in the name of progress. They deserve the credit for their own achievements. ’ 
 
'Why now?' 
 
 He shrugged.'Why not?' 
 
'Why ever?' 
 
 There was a long pause, and the visitor ran a hand around his mouth. Perhaps the dryness of the desert was beginning to get to him. Perhaps he was just stalling.'I'm... *tired*,' he said eventually. The word came out of him in a single breathy sigh. It was the first time he had ever said it out loud, and it showed. He had always had a sense of eternity surrounding him, but now he just looked *old*.'I did n't know how much it would drain on me. ’ 
 
 ‘ You just didn ’ t see it coming, eh? ’ 
 
 The visitor did n't have an answer to that. It was a good start. 
 
 ‘ So why me? ’ the Serpent asked. ‘ I ’ m assuming you ’ re not planning on putting me in charge while you ’ re away? ’ 
 
 ‘ I need your help, ’ he said. ‘ I ’ ve never done this before. ’ 
 
 ‘ What? ’ 
 
 ‘ Lying. Deception. ’ 
 
 ‘ You ’ re not lying. You ’ ll really be gone. ’ 
 
 ‘ They won ’ t know that, though. They have to think I never existed. It ’ s for their own good. They have to think they were wrong the whole time. How else will they learn what they ’ re capable of? ’ 
 
 The Serpent considered it. 
 
 ‘ You ’ re sure this is what you want? ’ 
 
 ‘ I ’ m sure. ’ 
 
 ‘ You ’ ll have to be smart about it, then. You can ’ t just replace one truth with another, ’ he said. ‘ Only with doubt. People will reject anything that ’ s too far from what they know, even if what they know is wrong. You break it down first, piece by piece. Sand through an hourglass. It takes time. ’ 
 
 The visitor nodded. ‘ I have time. What else? ’ 
 
 The Serpent thought again. ‘ Convince them you ’ re the way forward. That you ’ ll lead them to the truth. ’ 
 
 ‘ Seems a little counterintuitive. ’ 
 
 ‘ Only if you ’ re always going to be there, ’ he said. ‘ Think mortal. Fleshy. Weak. As far from you as you can possibly be. ’ 
 
 The visitor looked confused. ‘ Why? ’ 
 
 ‘ Think about it. How do you kill a God? ’ 
 
 ‘ You can ’ t. ’ 
 
 ‘ And how do you kill an idea? ’ 
 
 ‘ Same answer. ’ 
 
 ‘ And how do you kill a man? ’ 
 
 The Serpent thought he saw a faint smile cross the visitor ’ s lips. He might have mellowed over the eons, but some things never changed. It sent a shiver through him. ‘ There you go, ’ he said. ‘ If you want to kill a God, you make him a man first. Find a weakness. Let them tear him down. See what they put in his place. You might not like it, but… ’ 
 
 ‘ But it ’ ll be theirs, ’ the visitor finished. ‘ And that ’ s what counts. ’ 
 
 ‘ Exactly. ’ 
 
 It had grown dark as they spoke, and a single bright star hung in the heavens. The Serpent watched the path it traced across the night sky. He had never seen something so beautiful in all his life. 
 
 ‘ So what ’ s the plan? ’ he asked. 
 
 The visitor shrugged. ‘ Find a woman, I suppose. Introduce myself. Wait nine months or so. See how it goes. Isn ’ t that how it ’ s usually done? ’ 
 
 ‘ So I ’ m told. When are you planning to start? ’ 
 
 ‘ Soon. Not now, but soon. ’ He sat back in the sand, shooing the beetles out of his way as he placed his hands behind his back and looked out across the rolling desert. In the distance, the torches of a small town glowed in the darkness. The Serpent hadn ’ t noticed it before. 
 
 ‘ For the moment I ’ m just enjoying… *this*. I forget what it ’ s like down here, sometimes. ’ 
 
 The Serpent looked around. ‘ You did a good job, ’ he said. ‘ I always thought so. ’ 
 
 ‘ I did, ’ he nodded. ‘ Maybe if I ’ d spent more time on the humans and less on the scenery, things might have worked out differently, eh? ’ 
 
 ‘ Maybe. Hard to tell. ’ 
 
 They sat in silence, waiting and watching. 
 
 ‘ It ’ s going to hurt, isn ’ t it? ’ the visitor said. ‘ When it ends. ’ 
 
 ‘ The mortal thing? Yes. Almost certainly. And during, too. It ’ s a short, cruel, hardscrabble existence. But it ’ s a necessary evil, in the grand scheme of things. It ’ s part of a greater plan. You said it yourself. And afterwards, you ’ ll be free. ’ 
 
 ‘ Free, ’ the visitor repeated. The word sounded small and yet colossal on his lips: a splinter of infinity in the darkness. ‘ Free at last, ’ he said again. 
 
 There was hope in that.
