God Fingers

One day last week, I was walking down the street to my car after work. All of a sudden, the large and all-powerful hand of God reached down and plucked me straight up off the earth. He pulled me up and up until the sheer weight of the G forges rendered me totally unconscious.

When I woke up, I figured I must have died and gone to heaven. This had nothing to do with how good I had been, but rather with the fact that I was surrounded by puffy white clouds and the hand before me was emitting a bright white light. Needless to say, I was pretty freaked out. I didn’t want to be dead yet, it was only Tuesday!

His face was every face, and yet no face I knew. He was my height, yet I couldn’t tell if I was dwarfed by him or if I towered over him, because in the same moment I was both. His clothing was a mirad of different colors, always changing, like his face. It seemed that although nothing had changed, he finally settled on a face and body type. He was youngish, maybe 25 or 27, with almost androgynous features and the color of a southern gypsy. He was still every person and no person, and at that moment his features made him look positively uncomfortable.

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. If only my friends could see me now. Why not three wishes? Isn’t that how the story is supposed to go?

I realized at that point that God was getting rather irritated with me. I sensed that this was not a smart move, so I nodded quickly, trying to stifle the laugh that again threatened to erupt from my lips.

I shook my head no, unaware of the look of disbelief etched onto my face.

I stumbled over all the ideas in my head, trying to find one without any obvious negative consequences. Fame and fortune were automatically disqualified, as was everlasting life and the ability to stop time. I was almost skeptical at that point whether or not God could grant me these things. In a last ditch ploy for time, I said,

He finally laughed, the irritation completely leaving his face. It seemed as though everything in the universe laughed with him, ringing out in the heavens.

I smiled back, rather unsure of myself. What had I said, exactly?

I probably have no room to talk, but I think God is rather forgetful. He left me there for a whole day and a half. I only know this because my digital watch still seemed to work. In that time I didn’t need anything; I wasn’t hungry, thirsty, tired, and I didn’t need to use the bathroom. I spend the time walking around on the clouds, playing with their strange cotton-like substance, diving into them, and just thinking. Now that I knew what I had to do, wouldn’t it make sense, I thought, to wish for something that would help me accomplish my task, so I could keep my wish? Granted, the wish was not the important part of the job, by far. It was merely the most important thing to a mortal like myself. At any rate, it made sense to me to wish for something useful, and it was probably the reason God said I was so smart.

When he came back, he wouldn’t stop apologizing for being late and forgetting about me. I didn’t really care; I had had fun with the clouds and picking the best wish ever. I had it. I was ready.

He stared at me for a minute, then shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

I wish I could tell you, describe to you the tenderness in his voice when he said that. The words seemed to convey more than mine ever would. He seemed to say that he had complete faith in my ability to complete this task. He seemed to say that I was beautiful and capable and competent. He seemed to say that the universe could wait while my wings were fitted, because this task was important and I was important.

He raised his arms and there appeared a long line of wings, of many different sizes and shapes. After trying on several pairs and disqualifying many others, I chose a great big white pair, almost exactly what I had envisioned. With fingers more caring than you can imagine, he fitted the wings to my now naked back, pressing them gently in place. He brushed his lips over the spot where they met, not quite a kiss, and then picked me up and tossed me into the air. I took my first tentative wing beats.

I soared up, fell down, soared up again. I loved the feel of the wind rushing around my feathers, buoying me up and up. I took a minute to look at God’s face; I think I was looking for his approval. He looked much more resigned than before, and waved me down.

I nodded again, and he disappeared. Questions ran through my head, all kinds of things I would need to ask him. How would I be able to find the Russian kid – Russia is a damn big place! Wouldn’t the genius’s parents know something was different and check the kid’s DNA? What if people saw me? Would they try to shoot me down? How would I get back into heaven once I got the genus kid? And not the least of all my questions was, what are these kid’s names, anyway?

I played around with my wings for a while, trying new things. Luckily the clouds were soft and the wings were pretty securely attached, because some of my falls definitely tested them. I prepared my questions as best I could, trying to think of every single situation that I would need to know about. I called for God and he came.

I asked him what I had come up with, not waiting for answers between questions. He didn’t tell me to stop or slow down, but just nodded every time I finished one question and went to another.

He seemed rather proud of himself at this announcement, and went on to tell me that there was nothing else in the world that was as identical as these two boys. There was a lot of biology talk involved, and being a chemistry kind of person, I didn’t get much of it. But it was somewhat interesting, if rather irrelevant.

I wanted to speak more, to say something, but he put his palm on my forehead and pushed. I felt myself falling, free falling down and backwards. There was a moment when I felt absolutely nothing, and I thought I had passed out. Moments later, I could see gray clouds, and realized that I’d better use those God-given wings, or be right back up in heaven before I knew it. I turned over and soared down. He was right, which is rather redundant since he is God. I just knew, somehow, that I was over Russia at that moment, and I knew where the boy was. I felt pulled to him by strings I couldn’t see. I’ll save you the details of my flight, but I finally found him, wrapped in a dirty sheet, hiding in the bushes. I alighted on a nearby fence and watched him. He seemed peacefully asleep, so I hopped down, walked over, and touched his shoulder. Immediately he awoke, shying away from my touch. When he saw my wings, his eyes widened and he stood up. I took him into my arms and tied him to my chest with the sheet. It would have been difficult if he had been a normal six year old, but his body was so small and malnourished that he felt like he might have only been three or four years old. He shivered, and I whispered his name. “Sven. Shhh, it’s okay now.” I murmured comforting words as I took off, wondering how we’d get to Oregon, USA before my wings gave out. In addition to being invisible, God must have also given me the power to teleport, because I closed my eyes and wished to be in the right place, and moments after feeling the same nothingness that I did when coming out of heaven, I was above a small town. I swooped down and landed, trying to read the street signs. I was close now. Sven began to point, and I followed his finger and small arm extending from my chest. We flew around and around and finally he pointed down, jabbing at one house. I flew around the house, checking the windows for light. One light was on, and I hovered in front of it, looking in. A small boy was sitting at a computer, but seemed to have dozed off. I didn’t want to wake him, but Sven tapped at the window and the other boy, his twin, jumped up and came to us. He did not seem at all surprised to see us. He opened the window and told me to come in. I may have been rather bemused by all of this, but neither of the boys seemed to think that anything was out of the ordinary. After I untied Sven from me, Arthur began speaking (what seemed to me to be) fluent Russian to him, totally ignoring the winged figure sitting on his bed. Once Sven seemed settled in, Arthur turned to me. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, extending his small hand. I took it, holding it firmly. “My name is Arthur, but you should call me Pendragon. That’s the only good thing that came with being named after a legend. Anyway, I have some questions to ask you, but I think we should get Sven there cleaned off. The bathroom is down the hallway, I’ll come with you and we can talk then.” “Won’t your parents wake up?” I knew they couldn’t see me, but we would have a lot of explaining to do if they found their son had a twin, and I had a feeling I would not be fulfilling my mission if they found out. “Naw, they sleep like logs,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “That’s why I’m so smart I guess, because they wouldn’t wake up when I cried as a baby, so I decided that I should do something for myself. I was potty-trained and out of my crib by one. I could barely walk, but I could wipe myself. It was rather annoying to be physically incapable of doing lots of things when I knew I could mentally do them. Anyway, let’s get moving, we don’t have much time before dawn.” I carried Sven to the bathroom. He may have been comfortable, but he was definitely tired. I wondered about post-traumatic stress syndrome for him later in life – would starving for the first six years of your life be something that haunts you for the rest of it? My wings were also getting in the way, and I was wondering about keeping them. But the job wasn’t done yet. As we bathed and dressed Sven (who had amazingly few cuts), Arthur asked me some of his more pressing questions. I noticed that he was also very small for six, and wondered if Sven was not actually malnourished, but simply naturally small. “The most important question I have is about what I know. I just found out where cancer comes from, and possibly how to cure it, but I don’t know whether or not humanity is capable of using that information for good. I fear that they would use it for evil, and it would be all my fault.” “You found a cure for cancer? Will you tell me about it?” I almost insisted that he keep talking, even though it was unlikely that I would understand. “It just hit me when you flew in what I had been seeing. There are genes in all of us from other animals, but nobody ever thought to look and see if that was what they were. When you flew in, I realized that I had been seeing bird’s genes. When wings try to grow on people, they become cancerous. This is really not a good description of what’s going on, but I can’t explain it without using terms that you probably don’t know the meaning of. No offense,” he added, shrugging. “I’m not offended at all. But why would we have bird genes?” “I think it has something to do with evolution. We didn’t evolve from birds, but I think that we may evolve into them. But something has to happen to change that cancer into useful genes, something that hasn’t happened yet. One day we may all have wings. My problem is that I don’t think this knowledge would be used for good.” “How could someone use a cure for cancer for evil means?” I asked, genuinely interested. “I may be smart, but I am not wise enough to know the outcome of every new development. I just know that every tool can be a weapon, depending on the hands that hold it. I would use it for good, but I’m only a child.” “Socrates said that the wisest man is the one who admits he knows nothing. I think you’re pretty wise, considering.” “Thanks,” he said, leaning over the edge of the tub and brushing the hair from Sven’s face. It was an uncommonly tender gesture of a six year old, and it almost brought tears to my eyes. “You know, right, that you can’t stay here any more?” I asked him. He nodded, and astounding me once again, crawled into my lap, burying his face into my chest. I rubbed his back, wondering how one consoles the most intelligent creature in the world. We bundled Sven into Arthur’s bed, and I told him he had until dawn to say his goodbyes. We talked for a while about getting an English/Russian tutor for Sven and covering our tracks. We concocted a grand plan that I had a feeling would go right. When we had a few minutes left, Arthur took his leave of me and crawled into his parent’s bed to say goodbye to them one last time. I don’t know what happened in there, but I like to think that from the description of them, they embraced him sleepily but lovingly, and he knew how good he had it. We flew out, closing the window behind us. I warned Arthur that I wasn’t sure how to get back into heaven, but he didn’t seem worried. In fact, he assured me that he had done this many times before. After the moment of nothingness, we hit the clouds and burst into light. God was standing there, waiting, and Arthur jumped down from my arms and ran to him. “Daddy!” He laughed, as God swung him up in his arms and kissed him on the forehead. I know my eyes were wide, but I couldn’t stop watching. This was love, this was beauty, this was awesome. God set Arthur down and said, “Run along, Pendragon.” To me, he said, “Thank you for bringing him back, it means a lot to me. Turn around, and you can go home.” Speechless, I turned around. He took his hands and put them on my back, and I felt once more like I was falling, only this time it was forward. I hit the moment of nothingness and lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was sitting in my car, seatbelt buckled and key in the ignition. I sat there until I could feel for sure that every piece of me was still attached. Then I remembered my wings. I felt my back, trying to find them, but there was nothing. I was crushed. He broke his promise. Or was it just a dream? Did I really save a genius child, God’s son, and go up into heaven with him? Or did I just hit my head when getting into my car? I haven’t cried since I was ten, but at that moment I burst into tears, absolutely devastated that I no longer had wings. I drove home, not quite knowing what to believe. I dodged my family, not wanting them to see my tears, because I didn’t know what I would tell them if they asked me what was wrong. I ran to the bathroom, planning on taking a long, long shower. I took off my shirt, my pants, my socks, and my underwear. I ran the water. I took a last look at myself in the mirror before stepping in, and something stopped me. Something black was on my back. I turned, trying to see it, and my breath stopped in my throat. There were my wings. I may have expected to keep the full white wings that would let me fly, but there was something that rivaled even those. On my back were the most beautifully tattooed wings. They went from my shoulders all the way down to my buttocks, and when I ran my hand down my back, I could almost feel the feathers, as though they were still there. The tattoo was a downy white, outlined in deep, deep black. It was the most astoundingly exquisite tattoo I had ever seen, and it was mine. Shivering with excitement, I stepped into the shower and let the whole experience run through me, and the disappointment was gone. It was real. Back to Subplot list 1