Death and the minor deity

I was sorting the petty cash into currencies that are current, extinct and yet to be invented, when Death appeared before me, clothed in the thick black Robe of Death, gifted to Him either just before, or just after, the beginning of time. In His hand He held the Staff of Mortal Doom, which He carried on formal occasions.

“You look smart today,” I said, “you’ve ironed your Robe and polished the Staff of Mortal Doom. Is someone important due to die today?”

“ALAS, IT IS THE PASSING OF ANOTHER GOD.”

When the last of a god’s believers dies then that god too shuffles off his mortal coil. The passing of a god is always treated with the greatest of respect by Himself, as the gods share access to the Higher Dimensions and He occasionally bumps into them in the Impossible Canteen.

“I HAVE HIS FORMS. I HAVE ARRANGED A SHORT APPOINTMENT WITH YOU BEFORE HE PASSES ON.”

He handed me a pile of papers. The passing of a god generates a great deal of work for me. When a god dies their entire belief system collapses, including their ‘heaven’. The souls of all previously deceased believers have to be reassigned to another religion’s heaven. A place also has to be found for the god, which can be tricky, as many can be snobbish about having to start worshiping ‘false gods’ and handing over their supporters to former rivals. It would be like forcing all Manchester City fans to transfer to Man United if their club went bust.

I usually dedicate at least 3 hours to discussing the god’s plans and completing the various forms: The Handing Over of Immortal Souls form decrees what shall become of the gods demised believers, the Goods and Chattels of the Seventh Dimension deals with the allocation of property, including the religion’s heaven and the Religious Conversion form confirms the god’s newly chosen religion, thus enabling him (or her) (or it) to pass over into the heaven of their choice.

“So which god is it?” I brought up my database of immortal gods, a list that has shrunk significantly in recent years due to the rise of the Big 4 religions and the general loss of faith.

“IT IS A PERUVIAN CROCODILE GOD. HE ANSWERS TO NUMEROUS NAMES, BUT THE MOST POPULAR IS CROCCY.”

“Crocky with a ‘k’?”

“NO, A DOUBLE ‘C’.

“That’s the third Peruvian crocodile god in the last decade.”

“WORSHIPPING CROCADILES IS OLD HAT, I’M AFRAID. ”

“I wish you’d said something yesterday, I’d have worn my interview suit.”

“OH I WOULDN’T WORRY WITH CROCCY, HE’S VERY INFORMAL. IN FACT, CLOTHES ARE ENTIRELY OPTIONAL IN HIS RELIGION. IF YOUR CLOTHES FEEL INAPPROPRIATE YOU CAN SIMPLY REMOVE THEM.”

I’ve known Death long enough to know when He’s joking, which is a rare event. I pulled an appropriate face.

“WELL, I MUST AWAY. THE DEAD SHALL NOT DIE ALONE WITH THEIR MORTAL COILS UNTETHERED AS LONG AS I WALK THESE DIMENSIONS.”

“Okay,” I said, “have a nice day.”

Croccy arrived in good time for his interview. Unlike other crocodile gods I have met he was dressed plainly, without a crocodile head or tail, just normal human form with a crocodile tattoo on his bare chest. In fact he didn’t look much like any god I’ve met, he was below average height, of slight build and lacked any of the gold and jewels and embellishments with which smaller gods like to adorn themselves.

“Very sorry about this paperwork Croccy,” I said, “but we need to ensure that you and your followers are cared for in the next world now that you’re no longer around to watch over them.”

“That is fine,” he said. His voice was soft, but carried a great weight. You could see why he’d been worshipped. “I will make such efforts as I must to care for my believers.”

“We need to find a similar religion, so that you’re followers won’t be too inconvenienced by the change. What are your powers?”

“My powers?”

Are you an all-powerful creator god, who created the world and can work miracles?”

“No, no. I am there to hear, to heal, but man must work out his own solutions. I answer prayers, I oversee festivals and ceremonies, but that’s about it. Miracles change the natural order of the world, and I believe in the natural order of the world. It is above me, it is above my believers.”

“And what’s the qualification?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What is qualification? You mean exams? I have never done exams.”

“No, who makes it into your heaven? What are the criteria?”

“Oh anyone who isn’t bad, anyone who has mostly done good, or tried to do good. If you mean well what harm can you do?

“Well there are religions who say that good intentions pave the way to hell.”

“Anyone who preaches that clearly has bad intentions. Yes, sometimes you mean well and slip up, but what sort of a god would I be if I banished you from heaven for making a mistake. Not a god of humans that’s for sure. I’d have run out of followers a long, long time ago if I excluded people who made mistakes.”

I turned to the next page of the form. Unlike other gods, Croccy wasn’t growing impatient with my questions. He seemed to be enjoying the experience.

“And what is heaven?”

“Ah, heaven is a duplicate of The Village.”

“The Village?” Surely Croccy wasn’t some obsessive fan of ‘The Prisoner’.

“The village where I am worshipped. I did once, it’s true, have a few followers who moved away, but it was a great comfort to them to know that when they died they would return home.”

“And what happens in the heavenly village?”

“People carry on life very much as they did on earth. Even in heaven you must work, keep the village clean and tidy, though there is time to reflect, to look back on your life, witness your mistakes from a position of eternal wisdom. Many of my followers choose to return to earth to live new lives so that they might address their flaws.”

“And is there a similar religion that you and your followers could transfer to?”

“Oh, all of the villages in my region have similar gods. I have no preference.”

Are they crocodiles too? I wonder, but don’t say.

“No, but they are all animals; a spectacled bear, a llama, a jaguar.”

“You can read my thoughts.”

“I am a god, you know. Albeit, a failed, forgotten god,” he laughed, either finding his description of himself amusing or just laughing at the state of a world in which the very gods themselves are abandoned.

“You could ask the llama god, he seems friendly enough. I’ve never heard of a bad llama.”

He relaxed in his chair as I typed up his answers.

“What do you believe?” he asked, while I was typing. “After all, more than any mortal you are aware of the inevitability of death and the need to consider the journey your soul makes in the next world. What is your religion?”

“I don’t have one,” I admitted, embarrassed. “I see so many religions, so many gods, it doesn’t make sense to choose one. None of them are the single, all-powerful god they claim.”

“I don’t claim that.”

He paused, letting me breathe his words for a while, before speaking again.

“But you realise you must have a religion, at the end, so that your soul knows where to go.”

“I do, but I, I don’t know, I’m just sort of going to trust my soul make the right choice when the end comes.”

“Why not make it now? When it matters, when the religion can guide your life. You know gods aren’t a myth, a lie, whatever flaws you see in human religions you cannot justify atheism in yourself.”

“I suppose I said. I just never have time.”

For the first time Croccy raised his voice.

“You work for HIM. He can stop time. You have all the time you need. I will speak to Him, when He comes for me, make sure He gives you the time you need to reflect.”

I typed on in silence, afraid even to catch his gaze. When I had finished typing I decided to ask Croccy a question.

“This isn’t on the form but I’m interested: why do you think your religion has died out?”

“Oh I can’t compete with Christianity, it promises everything. Their heaven is eternal bliss, love everlasting, an end to all suffering and strife, not an eternity of hard work and reflection to achieve a pure soul. Besides, my village is disappearing, people leave for the big cities, those that stay are wired into the wider world 24 hours of every day, they have no time for gods, for their souls.”

“Are you done?” he asked.

“I suppose,” I said. I couldn’t explain my doubt, every single form was filled, signed and entered on my database. It was just …

Croccy disappeared. In an instant, suddenly, the way gods and beings sometimes do in Death’s realm. In his place Death appeared.

“YOU SEEM TO HAVE DONE ME OUT OF A JOB.”

I looked at Him, confused, but Death too can read my mind.

“YOU HAVE BECOME A FOLLOWER OF CROCCY. DID YOU NOT REALISE?”

I shook my head.

“WELL, YOU BELIEVE IN HIM NOW. IF I WERE YOU I WOULD TRY AND RECRUIT A FEW MORE FOLLOWERS WHILE YOU CAN, OTHERWISE ALL YOU’LL HAVE DONE IS DELAY THE INNEVITABLE AND YOU’LL END UP WITH A BUNCH OF LLAMA LOVERS FROM THE OTHER VILLAGE.”

“Thank you,” I said, “that’s good advice.”

“I IRONED MY ROBES FOR NOTHING.”

“Not for nothing,” I said, “I wouldn’t say this was nothing.”

He grinned, the way that only Death can grin, all teeth.