the god lottery Danielle Q. Lee

the god lottery

danielle q. lee

“So, Susan, what would be your first act if you were chosen to be the next God?” The interviewer smiled, pen hovering expectantly over his clipboard.

The woman’s gaze slid away from the interviewer and up to the balcony where a gallery of angels watched and listened—and judged. She swallowed loudly. “I would end poverty…and war.”

“Mmm, thank you.” The interviewer took note of her answer. “And what about you, George? If you were made God, what would you do first for Earth?”

George crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “I’d rid the place of evil. Ya know, all them politicians and thieves and the like—and mother-inlaws.” He gave a loud guffaw, nudging Susan with his elbow. She scowled in response.

The interviewer scrawled across his clipboard. “Thank you, George.”

He turned his attention to the next. “Steve?”

Steve’s face bunched up in concentration, and then he finally replied, “Well, after I tried out my super powers— like flying and making lightning bolts and stuff—I guess I’d grant all the prayers and wishes. Heal a bunch of people who are suffering. Especially the children.” He gave a surreptitious side-eyed glance to the gallery.

“Janet?” The interviewer directed his query at the woman standing away from the group. She was examining the various paintings hung about the room. “What would be your first act as God?”

Janet didn’t reply.

Susan shook her head and clucked her tongue. George rolled his eyes over a grunt of disapproval. Steve just twirled one of his hoodie’s strings. The interviewer rose and set his clipboard onto the seat of his chair. “If you’ll excuse me.”

His footsteps echoed on the marble floor as he approached Janet. While he could have simply flown over, he didn’t like to startle the humans. He’d interviewed over nine trillion people so far for the position of God, enough to know that new arrivals were often skittish at just the sight of his wings, let alone fully extended.

“Janet? Did you wish to join us?” he asked calmly.

Janet was absorbed by the artistry before her. “This is a Van Gogh, yes?”

The interviewer nodded and joined her in quiet reverence of the painting.

“I’ve never seen this one before,” she said, puzzled. “I thought I’d seen all his paintings, you know, before I died.”

He nodded again. “You are correct, he painted this after his death.”

Janet moved closer to the image, peering at the swirls of soft blue, the hazy yellows and muted greens. “It’s beautiful, but it’s all wrong.”

The interviewer tilted his head. “Why do you feel that way?”

“It’s too…perfect.” She turned and offered the interviewer a gentle smile, adding, “Nothing.”

“Pardon me?”

“That would be my first act as God? Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me that if given the opportunity to have boundless powers over all of

humanity—over the whole Universe—you’d do… nothing?”

Janet just smiled.

The interviewer paused, glanced up at the gallery of his peers, and then leaned closer to Janet. “Why nothing?”

Janet took a few steps towards Van Gogh’s tormented self-portrait, the one with the mustard-coloured hat. “His eyes—they’re so haunted. So lost and alone. You can feel his desperation, his search for meaning.”

The interviewer examined the art and agreed. He could indeed feel Vincent’s angst conveyed through the paint.

“And in this one—” Janet led him towards the one with the human skull abandoned in a desert of sand, “he is capturing the loneliness and harshness of death.”

The interviewer nodded. “Yes, but why is that important in your decision?”

“Being human on Earth is hard—so very hard—but without suffering, without war, illness, and despair, we’d never grow. Never evolve. We’d never strive to be better, to find the beauty amidst all the decay and horror, because we would always know there was a way out. Life there has to appear…dire. Hopeless.”

“What about death?” Susan said bitterly, clearly having heard all that had transpired from her seat at the table. “We should be able to live forever. My family misses me. I can feel their pain. They don’t believe in this place.”

Janet gave a sad smile. “Flowers can’t bloom forever. Death is part of the beauty. If life never ended, we’d have no appreciation—no respect—for it or anyone else.” The interviewer pondered this. “But why not make it a paradise? Take away sin, sadness, suffering, see what they do with it. Make it perfect.”

Janet smiled sagely. “It’s always been perfect. It can be a Heaven or a Hell. They just have to choose.”

The interviewer glanced up at the gallery of angels, his peers, and they gave a united nod.

For the first time in five billion years, a new God had been found. The last God they’d chosen had decided to start fresh. Wipe the slate clean and start with a brand-new Universe. It wasn’t their place to judge the acts of God, only to choose the soul they felt best suited for the job.

The lights dimmed and the gallery of angels went dark for the first time in an eternity. The interviewer ushered his guests out of the hall, thanking each of them for their interest in the position.

On his way out the door, George mumbled under his breath, “Should at least get rid of all them politicians— and mother-in-laws.”

As he started to close the door, the interviewer realized Janet was still inside. She was standing in front of an empty frame, for a painting yet to be displayed.

“Janet?”

“This one,” she said, her voice hushed. “This one is my favourite.”

The interviewer tilted his head, puzzled. “But…it’s empty.”

She smiled. “Yes, but just imagine what it could be.”