Somewhere halfway between the beginning of space and the end of time, there is a building that does not really belong there.
It is a mishmash of styles: a series of steps ending in a colonnade, above which is a high concrete wall with a jumble of mirrored glass and church windows, topped by four shiny domes, and turrets everywhere, alternating between the shape of a minaret and a church tower. The building looks deserted. It is supposed to be the meeting hall of all supreme beings in the universe, but since Earth is still the only inhabited planet with supreme beings in this universe, no one has any business there.
Except today. Today, a colorful group of supreme beings rushes up the stairs and into the reception hall. For the first time in thousands of years, all the supreme beings of Earth have gathered to discuss the disastrous state of their planet.
A friendly AI at the reception desk welcomes them one by one and hands out individual badges—despite objections that ‘people know me anyway’ or, as the Judeo-Christian supreme being emphasised, ‘no one is allowed to call me by my name.’
(He eventually accepted a badge with ‘My Lord’ on it, in spite of the protests of some feminist goddesses from the Greek and Germanic pantheons).
The main—and actually only—item on the agenda is: what are we going to do with the Earth? Various parties argue that humanity is busy destroying the planet, but evacuation is not an option. Firstly, there are no other planets available, and even if there were, you would rather not expose them to a bunch of destructive tenants like humanity. So the real question is, what to do with humanity?
In fact, all supreme beings agree that action must be taken. But how? The Western supreme beings are in favor of a flood: since the last one, things have been fine for about five thousand years. It’s just a matter of who you leave behind. This triggers a discussion about whether Noah was such a good choice for a new start for humanity.
Zeus and the ancient Greek gods are also in favor of the old-fashioned deluge method, but propose a different start.
It had worked perfectly for them; the two survivors simply had to throw stones over their shoulders, and then the new men and women would appear automatically. After all, their new human race had lasted a good few thousand years, they argue, and the Greek temples and shrines are still a beautiful reminder of a great past and an important tourist attraction.
Both the Eastern and South American supreme beings object that a flood is not necessary at all. Once every few million years, the earth enters a new cycle, and everything old is replaced anyway. It is simply a matter of waiting for the new cycle to begin with the new humanity. Of course, they are confronted from various sides with the argument that it may be too late by then. At the rate at which the current humanity is wrecking the Earth, there will soon be no planet left for a new beginning.
The Germanic gods argue in favor of the Ragnarok principle: they have never needed a flood. Once there are enough beings hating each other’s guts, humanity will take care of the necessary cleanup itself. In fact, they have already been busy doing so, according to the spokesman Odin. When the Western supreme beings respond that in that case they might as well bring on the Apocalypse, various parties object that this would wipe out not only humanity but the entire Earth. Odin suggests that, if desired, they can hold off on the monsters, fire and ice. War and strife alone can clean up quite a bit, and he mentions a few areas where considerable progress is indeed being made with the extermination of humanity.
The Greek supreme being Ares, traditionally the god of war, and a number of his colleagues agree. But his father, Zeus, remains in favor of a flood. Even though a modest modern can be a very efficient extermination technique, you are still left with the problem that there is a winner who can continue to ruin the earth.
Zeus’s brother Poseidon suggests adding earthquakes to the flood. As he is also known as the earth shaker, he is well qualified to talk about cleanup technologies that combine earthquakes and tidal waves.
The result is a lively discussion among the supreme beings about the best method to exterminate humanity in order to save the earth. Each supreme being can effortlessly name a few forms of death and destruction that are equally effective in stopping humanity, but the final word has not yet been spoken on the best way to rid the earth of humanity. Each time, another supreme being draws attention to yet another way to rid the earth of the problem of ‘humanity.’ No wonder, of course: supreme beings are just like humans; they meet because they want to be listened to. And now that people no longer listen to their supreme beings, the supreme beings have one more reason to prolong the meeting. When there is no more humanity and the assembly is dissolved, who will listen to them then?
And what about us? We have no idea, but in the meantime we calmly go about our business. A long time ago, we decided that we don’t need supreme beings to guide and punish us; we are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. So we deforest a piece of jungle here for a climate conference, we bomb a village or hospital there to teach others a lesson, we dam up a river for a power station that can supply a quantity of AI with energy, and we shut down wind turbines and solar parks because oil, gas, and coal are more convenient. And in the meantime, we hear about wars breaking out everywhere else, disasters happening, and deadly decisions being made, and we’re just glad it’s not happening to us here and now. Sometimes we even thank a supreme being for that. Not knowing that the supreme being in question is in a meeting to decide what should happen to us.
And at some point, in an uncertain future, the last life on earth stares out over a desolate plain where drones have dropped their last explosive payloads, the vegetation is blackened by yet another wildfire, and the mud is just drying up after a storm surge or yet another load of torrential rain that was poured over the world. Perhaps that last piece of life on Earth is unaware of the fact that it is the only life left on Earth. Perhaps it thinks that the emptiness around it is only local, that it is not equally empty and desolate everywhere.
That life has no choice but to do what life has always done: try to carry on. And without wanting or knowing it, the last life on Earth drops seeds, leaves, twigs, pieces of tissue, or whatever. And everything that falls germinates, becoming a plant that starts to grow, a mouse that runs away, a toad that crawls away, or perhaps a fish that flounders in the water and swims away.
For halfway between the beginning of space and the end of time, there is an unknown supreme being, Nzame, from somewhere in Africa, leaning against a pillar in front of the supreme beings’ meeting room. He has listened long enough to all those supreme beings who want to put a stop to humanity in order to save the earth. He already understood that humans are capable enough to exterminate themselves, that no higher power is needed for that. But he does not want an earth without life. That would be a waste of such a beautiful planet.
So while the other supreme beings continue to discuss the end of humanity, Nzame sits quietly thinking about how he can create new inhabitants for such a beautiful planet. And he decides the new life must simply rise up from the mud again and drop seeds, leaves, twigs, hairs, and pieces of itself. And every piece of life that falls into the mud will change and grow into a tree or plant or crawl away like an insect or reptile, run away like an animal, fly away like a bird, or swim away like a fish. And quietly, Nzame wonders whether it would be a good idea to try something like a human being again…