Weatherman's God

"You know Harry, I don't understand this God."

"What about him Bob?"

"He went through all the trouble of creating life, only to make it mortal."

"Yes, and...?"

"Well, why did he go through all the trouble of making us, if only to let us die. Seems like a waste."

"There's a lot of waste in the world Bob, this ain't no different."

"No, but think about it. He's omnipresent, no? He sees and knows all. Past, present and future. The whole shebang. But he can't make us immortal?"

"Maybe he can't. Or doesn't want to. That ever cross ya mind?"

"No Harry, it didn't. I mean, why would it? He's God, right? He built the Universe!"

"What if he's just God, not a god? Ever think about that? What if he can only build, Bob. What if he only has some nails and a hammer."

"What? No, God the Builder? That can't be. He's just an overblown engineer?"

"You know Bob, people probably think we're Gods."

"What?"

"Think about it," Harry said and adjusted one of a thousand nobs on the control panel that controlled the infinitely complex computer simulation running on the screen in front of them. "How many people even know what we do? Or understand it? I'll give you a dozen people, tops. To everyone else, what're we doing?"

"Simulating the weather."

"Predicting the future I would call it. Who else predicts the future? Oracles? Witches? No, we do. Precisely and accurately. Then we hand down our judgements from on high. We're gods! Do you feel like one?"

"Well no Harry, I don't. And I don't see where this is going."

"Your no god, I'm surely not," Harry said and pointed to the rolls of fat near his waist. "What kind of god would give himself a body like this?"

"Agreed," Bob said and Harry shot him a dirty look.

"You weren't supposed to agree. Anyways, maybe God is like us, you know, an ordinary guy who happened to create the Universe."

"But that doesn't explain why he made it so cruel, so unforgiving..."

"Look at our simulations. We delete entire worlds with a single keystroke and create new ones in the same fashion. Are you cruel?"

"I generally consider myself nice Harry."

"Well Bob, to those little people in the simulation, you are a cruel and evil deity. You bring tornadoes whenever it is convenient and start forest fires just to see how it will affect crop growth."

"It's just a simulation! Jesus Harry, don't anthropomorphize a couple 1s and 0s."

"But what if, Harry, what if? Maybe God's just an engineer," Harry lifted his finger and pressed a red button on the panel, the elaborate simulation of El Ni�o in twenty years flickered into nothing. "Or just a bored weatherman trying to get by."

"So maybe God isn't so vengeful after all..."

"...he's just trying to adjust the dials and screws up from time to time," Harry said and looked up. The screen flickered on and focused on a landmass that looked like the end of a frying pan handle.

"You think he notices all the people suffering?" Bob said and leaned his elbow down on the panel, accidently depressing a bright blue button with a little swirly symbol. The scene on the screen flickered for a bit, then a massive hurricane began to form and tear its way across the sea towards the handle-like landmass. Bob took no notice and stared off into space, thinking.

"Probably not, Bob," Harry looked up at the screen and jotted a few lines on his notepad. "Probably not."