An Interview with the Master o' the Universe

This is the story of a bad writer, having a bad day, as told by a bad writer.

 

An Interview With the Master of the Universe.

 

 

“You’re what?” I asked the guy.

I’m the Master of the Universe, The Ultimate Being.” He said it without changing expression. Obviously a nutcase. “And I’m here to give you an interview.”

“I see.” I stated, trying not to yawn. We get people like this in here all the time. They just walk into the newspaper and try to make instant appointments, assuming I have nothing scheduled. It goes with the territory.

When I was young and impressionable I used to dream about interviewing famous and powerful people. I was under the impression that they would talk to me, you know, answer questions. They don’t. I now understand the truth, which is that the only reason anyone with power or influence would sit for an interview is because they have an agenda. They need something from me. I represent free publicity, nothing else. I pimp that publicity for any reason just to fill a few column inches. I long ago gave up the dream of making a difference. For the last fifteen years I’ve basically wasted my efforts writing useless crap. I’ve even gone stale about the publications in which I am published. Occasionally one of the wire services will pick up on a story I had something to do with, but even when that happens the facts seem unimportant enough to be distorted into whatever the publication sees as politically correct. Now I’m a stringer for a crap, sensationalist weekly rag. It’s actually no big deal for someone to come in and claim to be an extraterrestrial, or a spirit-being, or for that matter, The Master of the Universe, the Ultimate Being.

“So what do I call you? How would you like to be addressed?” I asked the nutcase.

“My name sounds like Ohhmmmmm, but it’s probably easier for you to just call me Bob.”

“Right. The Master of the Universe’s name is Bob.” I stated matter-of-factly, as though it made perfect sense to me. “Well, Bob, take a seat.” He did. The look on his face was totally noncommittal. It gave me no hint of what he wanted from me. Probably just a crank killing time on a Wednesday afternoon. Well what the hell, I had a deadline coming up and nothing more interesting had turned up so far. Maybe this guy could help me fill up a few inches.

“So Bob,” I began, my voice flat and obviously uninterested, “What would you like to report?”

“I’m sorry. You misunderstand. I am here to answer your questions.” There was a pause as he looked at me. “You do have questions, don’t you? Please, ask them. I’m a little limited on time here. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, I understand alright. You being Master of the Universe and all, you’re probably running on a pretty tight schedule, true?”

“Actually, my schedule is not limited by time, but yours is. You do have a deadline coming up don’t you?”

“I always have a deadline coming up.” I answered.

“And you could use some help filling up those precious column inches, yes?”

God, I hate working for a s**t little weekly. Why me? Why do I get the crazies all the time? The greater question is why do I allow idiots like this guy to take up my time?

“Because you have to fill up column inches.” Bob stated without my asking. “And who knows, I might be the real deal.”

Sure. You f*****g goon. I hate goons. I hate wasting time. More than that, I hate wasting column inches with dribble from losers like you, Bob. You’re a nothing. A super-loser, a piss ant with delusions of godhood.

“So, Bob, tell me, what is it like being the ‘Ultimate Being?’ Describe a day in the life…”

He smiled ever so slightly, leaned back in his chair to formulate a lie for me that might sound worth publishing. He came up with; “Well, the concept of a single day is sort of foreign to me. In fact time is not actually a real thing. It’s just something I let you developing sentient beings use to keep track of things you learn. But I’ll answer your question. My typical day begins as an empty void containing unending nothingness, and ends as a crowded universe including everything. In a single one of my ‘days’ I see everything, do everything, and am – everything. Nothing, not one little detail escapes me. I experience everything possible. I learn all that is to learn, taste all that is to taste, feel every sensation, understand every fact. I am – every possibility, every day.” He sat forward and reached for a cigarette from my pack on the desk. “May I?” he asked.

“The Ultimate Being is a smoker?”

“Nope. Never had one. May I?”

“Um, sure. So, Bob, you’re saying that a day in your life encompasses all the expanse of time, every event from the beginning of the universe to the end of time..,”

“The lifespan of the universe, Yes.”

“… but you’ve never had a smoke?”

“Until now.”

“That’s a little hard to believe.”

“Call me a thrill-seeker.”

“Why have a smoke? I don’t get it.”

“For the same reason I ate a dandelion earlier today. I am the Ultimate Being. I experience everything imaginable. That means that yes, I’ll smoke a cigarette just to do it. The reason I do everything is because I am.”

“You are what?”

“I am…everything. I am the Master of the Universe. Nothing exists if I don’t use it. Nothing happens unless I experience it. Nothing changes unless I change it. Therefore I must use everything, experience everything.”

“Because it’s there?”

“Because it is possible.”

“So what would happen if you didn’t smoke a cigarette? Would it change anything?”

“Most certainly. The universe would be incomplete. It would stall.”

“If you don’t smoke a cigarette, the universe as we know it would not exist?”

“You’re catching on.”

“How is that possible?”

“It’s a little hard to explain, but I’ll simplify. If I did not smoke a cigarette, cigarettes would not exist. That would mean that the millions of problems brought about by cigarette smoking would not exist, that would mean that millions of people who have died from various cigarette-related causes would not be dead. Billions of dollars would not have been spent. Fortunes would disappear in a heartbeat. Histories would change and on up the line of events until the very universe as you know it would cease to exist.”

I’d have given Him the smoke without the big song and dance, but what the heck. After all, as Masters of the Universe go, this guy seemed to think it was important. “But those things you mentioned happened in the past. How could you smoking a cigarette now change anything?”

“There is no time, remember? You only think there is. In point of fact, everything in the universe just changed when I lit this cigarette. You simply aren’t aware because you are mired in the time thing.”

“You can’t think I’m buying this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, or what you believe. What is, is. What happens, happens. But things only happen if I do them. So I smoked a cigarette. Now cigarettes are real, and all those people died, and the billions were spent, and the universe goes on.”

“What if you hadn’t smoked that cigarette?”

“Then the universe would be a different place.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Wanna test that theory?”

“OK. Prove that the world would change if you hadn’t smoked that cigarette.”

“I can only prove that the world has already changed.”

“How can you prove that?”

“What is this?” he asked, holding up the butt for my inspection.

“It’s a cigarette butt.” I replied.

“See? There’s your proof. Cigarettes exist.”

“Cigarettes always existed, even before you smoked one of mine.”

“Can you prove that?”

“Well sure, I… come on, this is ridiculous. You’re trying to tell me that just because you do something it is real. OK, prove you exist. Prove to me that if you don’t do something it can’t happen. What haven’t you done yet? What isn’t real? Tell me that.”

“I have never corrected the platypus thing.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I knew you’d be skeptical, so I’ve left evidence of my existence all over the place. Little jokes. Look at the world, and look for the jokes. They prove that I am. Even someone as skeptical as you can see that there is something very wrong about the platypus. That’s because I never changed it. I left it like that to convince you today that if I don’t fix things they don’t change. So look at a platypus and understand that I am in control of everything, and I do everything, and if there is something that I do not do, well, you end up with a platypus.”

“That’s just crazy.” I said.

Bob had a smile on his face. I noticed for the first time that day that it was a wonderful smile. Kind, gentle, understanding. It made me feel good just seeing him smile like that. Then he rose from his chair and started toward the door. As he reached it and grabbed the knob, he paused, turned to me and made his last statement.

“No, it is not crazy. I left jokes like the platypus all over the place to show you people the truth. I exist, I’m not a boring guy, and I enjoy amusing myself with the universe. In point of fact, the platypus is proof that I am. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go eat an artichoke.”

And he left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

thank you for your input