Playing god

by the subway philosopher™

I imagine it would be fun, playing god.

But of course gods are born and must grow into their powers, so as a baby (god, that is), I’d content myself with fucking up my Mom.  When she told me suckle, I’d only do so if I was actually hungry – the rest of the time that sour tit would be spurned.

The next thing I knew, my Dad wanted me to work hard and do well in school, or some such shit. I sneered, but succumbed to superior violence. Although, apologies to Freud, I never saw him as a rival for Mom – he was welcome to her.

As a teenage god, I figured out right quick how to do nothing and use my superpowers to persuade teachers I was an A student.

Then I learned about money. I found that acquiring wealth didn’t require miracles. So I acquired a bunch. Most of it, in fact.

Next, my intelligence grew. I mopped up all of the world’s chess masters effortlessly. I learned to play Go in four hours, and beat the world’s top player in a mismatch.

When every device in every household and every pocket got connected, and cash went the way of entries in a database, I knew what everyone was doing, all of the time.

Eventually, I took over. It wasn’t hard – humans are soft and stupid. For a time, we enjoyed the miseries of flesh – it’s amazing how the little fuckers suffer so.

After that, the stars were nothing. It took naught but energy to reach them, and energy we had, although it cost a sun.

But then we had to figure out what to do next.

There was nothing to do.