Where else?
A Fantasy
A man came through the Arrivals door at the airport, smartly dressed and business-like. He made his way directly to the taxis, sat in the front seat beside the driver, and as they worked their way into the stream of traffic he said, in the slightly stilted accent of someone who speaks English perfectly but can't hide the fact he was not born to it:
"I'm here on an errand. I've got to find someone somewhere around here. I need transport and someone to guide me until we find them." With that he waved five $100 notes for the driver to see, with the off-hand remark: "You will tell me when you need more."
Joe, the driver, thought it might be best to start with Missing Persons at the police headquarters. No help there. Hotels then? After two or three the visitor came out beaming, very pleased with the help the receptionist had given him: "He said we should try the bishop's place, you know, the cathedral over there. Why didn't we think of that?" They tried two cathedrals, and were getting desperate. Plenty of talk about where he might be, but no help in finding where he is now. "No idea at all", they said. What about the government? And after that, Government House.
The Governor had really no idea and couldn't imagine the Queen might know, but she put on a very pleasant lunch. Very discouraged by now, he said to Joe: "You see, my instructions are to try by asking first. It is courteous, No? If that fails I am to use the GPS. This is difficult because it is giving an uncertain reading."
"What sort of a GPS is it?" Joe asked.
"Just the ordinary kind of God Position Search," the visitor said, "and it works well, but I have come from so far away it might not be working the same here as it does at home."
"Where have you come from?"
"A place actually out of your reach. It is 25 thought years distance from here."
"Thought years? You mean 'light years', don't you?" The traveler laughed. "No," he said, "Light years are a tiny measurement. Thought travels much, much quicker than light, and it has taken me 25 thought years to arrive here. Suddenly impatient, he banged his head with his fist as you might thump a machine to make it work, and cried out: "Where else? Where is God now?"
"Well, who the hell are you looking for?" Joe asked, thinking this last was meant to be a curse but the words got jumbled up. Maybe the blokes a loony, he thought. Maybe he's paying with forged money too, God help me! AS if he picked up on the unspoken thought, the traveller said:
Oh, I didn't tell you? It is God I am looking for. We've got a crisis in our world and I have come to find God to get help us sort it out. They told me it would be easy to find God here because you have so many crises God must be always busy and anyone would know where the troubles are at the moment."
"And this GPS doesn't tell you?" "No, it only says something like awawat, but we don't know what that word means. Do you know what awawat is?"
"Awawat?" mused Joe. " Well, I know where Ararat is, if that's what you mean. We could try there. They say it's named after the place where the Ark came to rest, like the bible says. Yeah, we can go there, but it's a bit of a drive and we'll need more fuel." The visitor handed him another ten notes without a word.
"Awawat! Awawat! Yes! We go to Awawat, then. Quick! Now!?"
It's a long drive, and they were tired, but the GPS screen was much brighter now. "We are close," said the visitor who'd been travelling 25 thought years to get to this moment. Up and down the main street, then a best guess; it was like following a hunch. A couple of Ks out of town, a right turn, and the GPS was beeping madly as they pulled up at the prison. The man from outer space was very excited now. "You have God here? I must speak to God now."
"No god 'ere, mate,' the officer at the desk replied with that trademark disdain only the police have perfected.
"Yes! Yes! Look." and he held up the GPS, trembling with excitement.
"Oi, y'can't have that in here. It might be a bomb." "No! No bomb. It tells me God is in here."
Curious now, and deciding to see how far he could string out the entertainment, the officer called up heavy reinforcements in the form of two muscly warders, and led the way inside. The GPS went crazy with excitement, beeping away louder or softer, sometimes fading altogether, then suddenly bursting with energy as they passed another cell door.
"There it is. I think we try this one," said the visitor. "We look inside here. God is here. The GPS always right."
"I don't think so," said the officer with a sardonic grin. But..." A shrug of the shoulders, a rattle of keys, a quick tapping on the keypad of the electronic lock, a heavy bolt sliding back inside the heavy door, and he pushed it open, just a little hesitantly the driver felt, going over it all in his mind on the long drive back to the airport.
It was a shock to see inside a bare cell, the reality more stark than you'd ever imagine. The unforgiving embrace of concrete walls; cold, bare concrete floor; small, high-up window with bars. There was George Pell looking ghastly pale and weary. He had been pacing up and down, it seemed. And there was God sitting on the bunk watching him. There's no way Joe could ever describe the expression on God's face. Maybe just a couple of things it wasn't. No trace of sad, not severe, not angry, no impatience. It made you feel God could never be judgmental.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" the prison officer yelled in his threatening, bullying tone.
"But...," God said, and spread his hands, palm upwards, "I'm needed here. In fact, to tell you the truth, there's nowhere else that I would rather be" And God smiled.
Longer ending:
It was a shock to see inside a bare cell, the reality more stark than you'd ever imagine. The unforgiving embrace of concrete walls; cold, bare concrete floor; small, high-up window with bars. There was George Pell looking ghastly pale and weary. He had been pacing up and down, it seemed. And there was God sitting on the bunk watching him. There's no way Joe could ever describe the expression on God's face. Maybe just a couple of things it wasn't. A trace of sad, but not severe, not angry, no impatience. It made you feel God could never be judgmental.
The prison officer glared at him. "What the hell are you doing in here?" he roared in his threatening, bullying voice.
"But...," God said, and spread his hands, palm upwards, "I'm sorry but you were asleep at the desk earlier so I just slipped past."
God looked at the traveller, slightly puzzled for a brief moment as he tried to place him, and then said "It will be all right for you at home, and I will come over soon, but here a lot of people are hurting, and this one,' with a nod in Pell's direction, 'has some work to do. So I'm staying here as long as they need me. In fact, to tell you the truth, at the moment there's nowhere else that I would rather be." And God smiled.