The God Complex: The Book Of Alan, Destroyer Of Worlds

Chapter Fifty-Six

Each morning, Alan, Destroyer of Worlds woke at his celestial alarm and fumbled his way out of bed, the weight of his own divine indifference toppling him backwards, where he rested a while before nailing it at the second attempt. Bathrobe on, he began the religious shuffle to the bathroom, a path so well-floated it was a wonder it hadn't started to form its own gravity. He passed the mirror without so much as a glance - he never looked at himself that early in the day, why would you? The heavenly spirit is such a fragile thing, at least give yourself a fighting chance of making it past breakfast.

The morning waft continued past the celestial gateway of the celestial abode, in the finest neighbourhood of the most heavenly realm of his parents house, stifling any form of divine or independent thought, which was a good thing - he wasn't ready for that either, not yet, not on this of all days.

He wafted back against the infinite space of the kitchen counter and waited for the kettle to boil. If Alan was being honest with himself, he was depressed. He honestly believed he'd cracked it this time - in the two thousand or so Earth years he'd been looking after that account, it was the closest he got to any form of meaningful worship and they ruined it for him.

He heard the familiar movement of mysterious ways from the celestial hallway and the door to the bathroom click.

Today was the day of his work tribunal, the day his superiors would pass judgement upon him and no doubt send him packing. In all likelihood, this would be the very last day he could ever call himself a God. At least he prevented those idiot humans from wiping themselves out and turning this into a criminal case. It would be a little difficult to find new employment with 'Corporate Terrorism' on his CV.

Perhaps, deep down, there was some small relief in all of this: to finally be free of those humans and the heavy shackles of his parent's expectations - the weight of which had been slowly crushing him for eons. For as long as he could remember he wanted to be a God, at least he thought he did, but the monotheistic game just wasn't for him - no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he studied, those Earthlings still found a way of blowing themselves up in his face. So, the prospect of doing it all over again filled him with a nameless dread, a cold sweeping tide pulling him under - he simply didn't have the strength left to keep his head above water. Infinity was too short a time to waste on Earthlings.

As tough as it would be, his parents would finally have to face up to the truth: that he wasn't like them and would never follow in their footsteps. He'd be free to be Alan, destroyer of worlds - whoever that was.

'Son, good you are awake and ready to battle once more,'boomed his father. 'We will destroy their pathetic tribunal and reinstate you to your rightful position of Junior Account Manager.'

'Morning Odin,' said Alan, depressed.

'Please Son, call me the All Father.'

'Sorry All Father.'

'I'm glad I caught you. Mother and I, well, we've been talking, we know this last little set back has hit you pretty hard, but we all make mistakes, even I: marrying Freya so young, well it took your Mother to help me realise that, and we're all glad she did, otherwise we wouldn't have our little Soldier of War here today.' Odin ruffled the top of Alan's cumulus wisps.

Alan withered, wishing the heavens would open and he could disseminate into another realm - for the only thing worse than his Father's pity, was his kindness.

'All I'm saying is we believe in you. This tribunal is a sham - your Mother and I built that place up from the ground and we won't rest until you reach your potential, it's an outrage those idiots haven't recognised your talents and accepted that being a god is in your physical matter. Don't you worry, Son, I will be there by your side today and by Thor's hammer you will keep your job.'