God walks into a Bar
Naomi Gathigi
Creative writer. Creative Brand storyteller. Certified professional Mixologist. Certified Barista. Beverage Explorer. Drinks Recipes.
A Recreation of; Watchmen, episode 8
“Do you take Sunday offs too?” Angela shares a fascinated smile at Dr. Manhattan, his smile remains hidden behind his mask. He tries to speak back, engage her in yet another unbelievable tale of his doings. But her voice and that of others in the bar becomes distorted, and soon after, inaudible.
“So many blue gods in one bar, I see you’ve made quite an impact on my people Dr. Manhattan.” A flash of bright light flits in his eyes. He covers his sight with the back of his palm, struggling to recover the view of his surroundings.
“Oh, now, now, Dr. Manhattan, I assumed gods didn’t get dazzled.” He blinks once, twice, all in rapid successions, his concentration being thrown quite off-balance.
I’m afraid you assume wrong, Father of all living and non-. It’s not every day that I’m graced by the presence of one who created me a man; from my forefather, Adam, and later transformed me into this; a blue god.
“You mean, the same Adam you believe to be a fictional character?” He chuckles. “Yet, here you are, blue god, cozying up with one of Eve’s descendants, leaving Jon and Janey in the moon of Jupiter, to serve Adrian Veidt.
The Adrian Veidt with a god-complex, burning cities just to convince the world he’s a man. Surely, you can sense my confusion here.”
Isn’t that what you do too, burn cities just to convince man you are God?
“There are so many missed facts in that question alone. But yes, I did make man in my own likeness. Did I mention he has a god-complex? Believing he’s some sort of god?
I mean, I’d say you do the same, but you seem to be in dire need for man’s approval, to fight a war in Vietnam, in your own physical form. Isn’t that what this whole 'blue gods in one bar' charade is all about?
Meanwhile, all I do is burn cities, torture men, kill men and women alike, I kill their children too. And, when I’m in a good mood, I do away with the whole human race altogether.”
I understand you’re being sarcastic.
Adrian Veidt is simply their master. Jon and Jane, much like Adam and Eve, are conditioned to seek a governing factor, be it from fellow man or a higher power. They are like sheep, needing a shepherd.
What’s a people without its leader? Rebels starting a revolution, or an uprising, end up choosing one amongst them to lead them. In which case, there’s order.
Besides, the way I experience time is unique. I am present in this bar and in Europa, simultaneously. Call it omnipresence if you may; you did make me a god after all. Now all the power you have, I possess.
“And yet, ten years down the line, all this power you claim to possess shall be squeezed out of your blue body, by mortal men. Make no mistake Manhattan, whatever power you believe to carry, is a drop, and I’m the ocean.”
But, that is how you engineered it. Isn’t it? We are all just pawns playing in a game that you’ve rigged to make sure you always win.
You want to act surprised that I’m here planning a decade-long future with Angela Abar, but you’re the one who intended for me to be here. You chose her, just like you chose me and the rest of your mere mortal men, to live the life you purposed us to live.
We are all Pharaohs to your Egypt. We are all Adam and Eve to your Eden. Wasn’t it your intention for man to know right from wrong in the first place?
Given that you are all-knowing, you must have known they’d be seduced into eating that which was forbidden.
Man’s greediness, tendency to kill, the bed of lies that they are so willing and comfortable to lie on. It all stemmed from a single fruit in the middle of the Garden of Eden; your Garden of Eden.
Why else would you laugh when man makes plans? Why else would it amuse you when man decides to live a life contrary to that which you’ve destined him for?
Why else will there always be the poor and the rich, the evil and the self-righteous, despite efforts made to change it?
“Here I was, trusting that the bestowal of my God-given nature to you would somehow grant you the wisdom and the comprehension of a god. An understanding, far from a man’s level of realization.
But, as it turns out, the nature of your origin keeps scratching itself from underneath your skin, trying to peel itself out, with an attempt to reclaim its true form.
Somewhere deep within you, there’s still a man in there. And, like man, you know so little of me. But, even then, the little knowledge you seem to have lacks appreciation.
So, all you do is speculate, creating theories and conspiracies about my existence or my lack of it. I suppose it’s easier to justify man’s inhumanity, without feeling like there’s some sort of higher power, looming over you, as a restraint.
You think so little of men. You believe they lack choices, that I’m a puppeteer to their selfish gains and evil ways. Why else would I place a forbidden fruit in a garden full of all kinds of fruits, if not to let man exercise their will to choose?
You’d think that man knowing what’s right and what’s wrong, that they would, of course, choose to do what’s right. But, as it may come as a shock to you blue god, more often than not, man always chooses what’s wrong.
Then later, blame me, the same God they so claim not to exist, for foreseeing the consequence, but doing nothing to prevent it from happening.
So you see Manhattan, with or without my help, man will always destroy fellow man. This isn’t a rigged game, men just play by their own rules; sometimes, even bend the same rules, and I let them.”
“Dr. Manhattan, are you still here?” Angela snaps her fingers towards his direction, and Manhattan slowly recollects himself.
“Sorry, I was conversing with God.”
She frowns, as if puzzled, but then regains her momentum. “Oh, so you were talking to your colleague?” No, not my colleague, my creator.
Photo credit: HBOWatch.com
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