feeling cross
Am I a man, or a God? I was born of flesh, yet I know that I was created by God.
The pale, brown haired man looked at the swarthy, evil looking crowd of jews, come
to heckle him. Pinkish sweat dripped from his scraggly beard and long straight nose.
He thought of using his devine powers to blast them into oblivion. But when he reached
for the power to fufill his will, it was not there. "God, why have you forsaken me?"
Even as he spoke, a new force flooded his mind, the awsome power of omniscience. He
knew everything. He knew that one day his followers would have their revenge for him,
slaughtering the jews by the millions. He knew that the Roman who had ordered his death
would be beheaded. And he finally understood his own pain. It was a trade, his blood for
the souls of his followers.
And he would have many followers, billions of them. But his hold would not extend to
everyone. Even as his followers tried to force every human on the planet to his will,
some would resist. When his followers fought wars to convert people in distant lands,
When they brought plague and famine. When they gave the hungry and homeless bibles
instead of food. It would not be enough. But he was not dying for them, he was dying
for the lucky few. He was happy to send billions into the fires of hell, just as his
followers would create war, suffering, and hatered in his name.
He looked ahead in time, and picked an arbitrary point. Two-thousand years from now,
almost two billion souls would be his. All striving for wealth and power to lend glory
to his name. He was dying for them, not some poor fools who would never hear of him or
who would not fear his power when it manifested itself to them.
