The Total BS OMG

The god, WHAT glanced around his special room, "WHAT's Testing Facility" or "WTF." Children's toys lay scattered everywhere—some missing parts, others charred, and a few sporting melted bits of plastic. It looked like the aftermath of a small child who had just discovered the joy of fireworks. Or at least, that's what mortal eyes would perceive.

To divine eyes, it was obviously a carefully engineered soul-testing lab—meticulously configured according to the Total Basic Standards organization's Operational Mortal Guesstimation suite. Or, as most gods called it, "Total BS OMG."

NOTE: The Total Basic Standards organization (Total BS) is a divine standards body that convenes every millenia to replace existing, competing divine standards with new ones that feature added complexity. "Total" was added to the name to avoid confusion with a rival standards body, Bog Standards (BS).

WHAT reached down and picked up an articulated doll in a pink dress, brushing it off. He examined it closely: It had obviously seen better days, having stains and blemishes in strange places, and what appeared to be a tire mark on its back. He thought about fixing it up but after some internal deliberation decided it was better this way.

He carefully set it down, sitting up, right in front of a mirror propped against the wall. He then took one last look around to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be and summoned a very special soul balloon into his hand.

He held the balloon close to the doll, transformed the tip of his index finger into a sharp point, and popped it. Then, quickly hurried away, hiding behind an unframed, fancy door conspicuously placed in the middle of the room.

The soul inside the balloon got sucked right into the doll and a moment later, it began to move.

What is happening? Where am I? the doll thought, its head looking down at two thick, pink plastic legs. Then, looked forward and saw itself in the mirror.

That's me?  It wondered, staring at its reflection, tilting its head before full-blown panic reached into its plastic body and grasped it, right by the soul.  OH MY GOD! THAT DOLL IS ME! I'M A DOLL!  The doll tried to scream but no sounds came out. Dolls don't have lungs, after all.

The panic-stricken doll immediately stood up, turned around, and ran away from the mirror desperately hoping to escape—from itself. It was surprisingly quick! It slammed directly into a precariously placed skateboard not too far away from its starting position and tumbled onto it, its momentum carrying it forward.

Hearing the doll's commotion, WHAT prepped for his grand entrance: He made his white business suit glow, adjusted his tie, and rubbed his hands together to ensure they produced visible sparks. Then, he made the door light up, flung it open as if it was on hinges, and stepped over the invisible threshold with gusto.

"GREETINGS, SOUL FROM EARTH! I AM WHAT, GOD OF..." WHAT announced directly into the doll's consciousness as he stepped onto the skateboard.

In a truly divine rotational motion, achievable only by a god—or a cartoon character—he sent the skateboard hurtling into the mirror as he spun and fell backward. The mirror shattered, the doll went flying into the debris, and WHAT, god of mysteries, felt the sudden onset of destiny—with the floor. This was not how this was supposed to go.

WHAT felt pain like never before. Not the physical kind that mortals endure—no. This was a divine level of pain—pure, undiluted embarrassment. The absolute worst kind. It ranked at the very top—maximum insufferability emoji—on the Spiritual Rating Pain Scale (SRPS), because he knew someone was watching.

It was the kind of pain that could latch onto a god's very existence, lying in wait, ready to resurface at any moment should the mere suggestion of it be brought up. And he knew it will be brought up again. And again. And again.

WHAT lay flat on his back, internally debating whether he should sequester himself for a few millennia in the desperate hope that the observer might forget this ever happened. No, that wasn't possible. Not even a million cosmic cycles would be enough.

He then considered his options: Should he re-balloon the soul and start over, or press on and simply hope for the best?

He mentally reviewed the documentation of The Total BS OMG and recalled that it did provide guidance on situations like this:

Excerpt from The Total BS OMG, § 404(c) 3:

"When things don't go according to plan, panic, then move on to the next step and pretend nothing happened."

Yes. WHAT would obey the sacred instructions—those hallowed, infallible decrees—penned by an outsourced committee of bargain bureaucrat souls, each selected for their uncanny ability to turn divine will into immaterial paperwork.

The doll picked itself up, unconcerned about the broken glass rattling around inside its chest. It was utterly dumbfounded.  Did that flamboyant guy just say he was a god!?

Its panic had vanished entirely. Somehow, sense had been quite literally knocked into it by that god's absolutely... hilarious fall. It tried to laugh out loud, but when that failed, it opted instead to roll onto its stomach, beam with its eyes closed, and slap the floor—mimicking the proper rolling-on-floor, laughing-out-loud (ROFLOL) technique.

WHAT took immediate offense at this blatant disrespect toward his divine nature and flung himself upright. "That was... A METAPHOR!" he declared with a grandiose flourish, speaking directly into the doll's mind. Then, smiling as if everything had gone exactly as planned, he added, "YES... It is my way of telling you to... BE CAREFUL. WATCH YOUR STEP." He gave a thumbs-up.

He paused, watching as the doll took an uncomfortably long time to stop its exaggerated ROFLOLing before finally getting back on its feet. It then stared at him in that creepy way only a doll could.

WHAT sighed internally, doing his best to conceal his true state of mind from this very expensive soul—a fact he firmly reminded himself of.  I have to take this seriously, he thought.

"I AM WHAT..." He threw his hands up dramatically, then continued, "THE GOD IN CHARGE OF YOUR REINCARNATION!" mentally shouting just shy of soul-melting volume.

The doll remained unfazed. "Your name is... What?" It couldn't speak, but it thought the words really hard—and somehow, that seemed to work.

"YES, MY NAME IS WHAT," WHAT declared—much too loudly—lowering his arms. "I AM SPEAKING IN OMNITWADDLE, THE LANGUAGE OF THE GODS," he explained. "THE NAME YOU HEAR IS HOW YOUR SOUL TRANSLATES MY DIVINE NAME INTO SOMETHING COMPREHENSIBLE."

The doll nodded in understanding, wishing for a mental volume control knob.

Then—with the professionalism of someone who terrifies souls for a living—WHAT bellowed, "FRET NOT ABOUT YOUR BODY, THE DOLL YOU CURRENTLY OCCUPY IS A TEMPORARY VESSEL."

He projected his words directly into the doll's consciousness, his voice resonating with enough force to shatter the self-esteem of lesser beings. "REJOICE! THIS FORM EXISTS SO THAT I MAY LEARN YOUR PREFERENCES FOR YOUR NEXT LIFE!"

And to deny them, hah! WHAT thought to himself as he smiled in anticipation. He really did enjoy this part of his job. Because what could be more fun than giving souls an exciting sense of hope, then taking it away?

This wasn't just any reincarnation—this was his one-hundred-millionth. A milestone so divine, so profound, that it would grant him priority seating at the Soul Auction—and double the value of his tickets at the Soul Arcade!

The doll just stared at WHAT with an unsettling, unblinking gaze, thinking, "Do I get to pick from a list, or is it completely arbitrary?"

"ENTIRELY ARBITRARY!" WHAT declared with a triumphant grin. Then, without a hint of irony, he added, "WE'LL MAKE A LIST!"

He then summoned a chalkboard and began to write on it. "WE'LL START WITH A FREEBIE," he announced grandly, then wrote, "Sex: Male / Female / Hermaphrodite."

"It's nice to know that your past life's sex isn't something you're stuck with for all eternity," the doll thought, feeling this rather progressive.

"YES. Even I am not that cruel," WHAT sent into the doll's mind. Apparently, he could hear all its thoughts.

"Female," the doll thought really hard, not wanting to accidentally send the wrong message.

WHAT circled "Female" on the chalkboard and thought, So much for turning them into a snail.  He mentally crossed off, "hermaphrodite".  One of these days, I'll sucker someone into it.

"Wait... What does he mean by 'freebie'?" the doll wondered, then, after a beat of contemplation, "...and 'Even he isn't that cruel'?"

"GREAT QUESTION!" shouted WHAT into her mind, flashing a mischievous grin. "ONCE WE'VE RECORDED YOUR PREFERENCES, YOU'LL HAVE TO EARN THEM THROUGH A SERIES OF CHALLENGES THAT TEST YOUR WORTH!" He held his hands up dramatically as if he was about to pull down a moon.

"YOU MAY LIST THREE PREFERENCES OR..." he paused for added effect, "DESIRES FOR YOUR NEXT LIFE. AND YOU HAVE MY DIVINE WORD THAT I WILL DO MY BEST TO ENSURE YOU RECEIVE EVERY EARNED ITEM."

"I better be careful what I wish for," thought the doll.

"INDEED," WHAT sent directly into her mind, tinged with a hint of disappointment. He'd never give up on finding reckless souls.

The doll immediately started to think about her preferred body and abilities, forgetting that the god could hear her every thought, "To start, I think I want to be cute/pretty because that's something of a superpower in itself."

WHAT jumped for joy and wrote, "1. Cute," then added, "2. Pretty" below it.

The doll, horrified, tried to regain some ground and immediately thought really, really hard, "I THOUGHT CUTE SLASH PRETTY! IT IS ONE ITEM!"

WHAT paused to think about it for a moment, then realized she was telling the truth. He capitulated and corrected the chalkboard: "1. Cute/Pretty."

"Oh, thank god!" She thought.

"YOU'RE WELCOME! Heh heh," WHAT sent the last bit into her mind accidentally.

The doll, exasperated, thought, "Oh no! This god is out to get me!"

WHAT said nothing into her mind but thought, They all figure it out sooner or later. I would've preferred later, though.

Suddenly understanding the situation completely, the doll thought, as loudly as possible, "I want to be brilliantly intelligent slash genius slash clever."

WHAT sighed, then explained—gently, "That aspect of your next life is up to you." He felt he should elaborate further, "In your past life on Earth, a large part of how smart you were depended on the physical nature of your brain." He then continued, "In your next life, you won't have such physical limitations on your mind. In other words, how smart or clever you'll be will be based on how much effort you put in."

"That's... Actually kinda ideal." she thought.

"YES. THE GODS OF EARTH ARE WEIRD. And careless!  Tehe," WHAT accidentally sent the last part into her mind again.

The doll—entirely and wisely focused on the task at hand—ignored it. "In that case... I want to be FAST SLASH MUCH FASTER THAN AVERAGE." She smiled, thinking that was a good one.

WHAT nodded and wrote down, "2. I AM SPEED!" on the chalkboard then giggled, attempting to make fun of the doll's preference. The doll just nodded and gave a thumbs-up.

This is turning out pretty well, actually, WHAT thought to himself. These preferences are all so mild and easy to achieve. With preferences like these, I could put her ANYWHERE! He laughed maniacally, but only in his mind.

The doll then had a sudden realization. What if... she mentally blurted, "I want to do powerful magic and I don't mean prestidigitation!"

There it is, WHAT thought, the thing that makes mortals a real pain in the divine pocket.  He shrugged and considered, Meh, I'll just give her an impossible third challenge.

WHAT wrote "3. Powerful magic" on the chalkboard, then made it float towards the ceiling, keeping it clearly visible. The letters began to glow faintly. WHAT felt that this attention to detail made him superior to other gods, so he nodded to himself as if to say, "Yes, indeed, I am the best."

"WE WILL NOW BEGIN YOUR CHALLENGES!" WHAT announced into the doll's mind, waving one hand in the air. "RIGHT THIS WAY," he said, like an overly enthusiastic executioner.

He then motioned for the doll to follow him to a corner of the room, where something resembling an Olympic high jump bar stood. Two poles, set in circular stands, held a bar with an adjustable height—except there was no landing mat.

WHAT gestured at the bar and said, "THE CHALLENGE IS SIMPLE: GET OVER THE BAR."

The doll’s fake eyebrows lifted as she grinned mischievously, thinking , "Oh? OK!"

She walked up to the bar, carefully removed it, set it down, and stepped over it.

WHAT rolled his eyes. "OK. THAT ONE IS ON ME. I SET THE BAR TOO LOW." He then levitated the bar back onto the poles—this time much higher, far out of reach.  I bet she thinks she's sooo clever, he thought.  Try to get over it THIS time, he mentally harrumphed.

The doll crossed her arms and motioned with her head and eyes toward the chalkboard floating above their heads.

FRICK! If I wasn't being watched, I'd just tell her it didn't count!  This soul was becoming an ineffable irritation.

WHAT waved his hand in the air at the chalkboard, and the words "1. Cute/Pretty" lit up as if they were on fire.

Yeah, that looks so nice. I do good work, WHAT thought.

The doll smiled and nodded at WHAT, then thought directly at him, Thanks. I was afraid you'd cheat.

WHAT pretended to be shocked.  Me? Never! he replied into her mind.

He motioned at the bar again.

The doll walked up to one of the poles holding the bar and kicked it—hard. The bar clattered to the ground, and she stepped over it.

WHAT—a god unused to having his own style of trickery used against him—set his head on fire and reached forward as though to throttle the doll. His face was once again approaching the maximum insufferability emoji on the SRPS.

Through the ether of the multiverse, he swore he could feel someone laughing at him.

Then he stopped himself, remembering his situation.  It's just one soul, he thought.  Not worth getting in trouble. Besides, I'll make sure she never completes the final task.

He hurriedly waved his hand in the air, and "2. I AM SPEED!" lit itself on fire, marking it complete.

The doll smiled broadly and jumped, pumping her fist in the air.  YES! she thought.

WHAT then considered the multitude of tasks carefully laid out in the Total BS OMG, focusing on the one with the highest difficulty rating: "Teaching rocks to think."  He needed something suited for this particularly troublesome soul. She seemed clever and surprisingly quick.

I should pick something that's literally impossible, he thought, beginning to scheme.

After some internal debate, he decided that even the "Teaching rocks to think" difficulty wasn’t hard enough. He wanted a guaranteed result. No—for this soul, he needed to break free from the confines of carefully constructed, detailed instructions where every possible outcome was studied and accounted for. That meant considering other, more popular divine standards.

The Bog Standards of Conveyance, Yeeting, and Abandonment—or "BS CYA," he recalled—had just the thing:

Excerpt from the BS CYA, § 1337(c) 3.14:

"When an official excuse for CYA is required, give the subject an ethical dilemma with no clear solution, then tell them they failed no matter the result."

The doll could tell that WHAT was carefully considering... something, and it was most definitely not good. She needed to do something—anything—to disrupt his train of thought before he had time to conjure too many terrifying possibilities for her third challenge.

She figured walking up and kicking him in the leg might be a bit much, so instead, she did the next weirdest thing: She walked up, hugged his leg, and stared up at him in the creepiest way possible.

It worked!

WHAT's ponderous expression vanished, instantly reverting to his previous state—seriously irritated emoji.

"What are you doing!?  Stop... that!" he sent into her mind at a surprisingly mild volume.

Maybe it's working? the doll thought.

"MAYBE WHAT IS WORKING?" WHAT cannonballed into her consciousness, back at full soul-crushing volume.

The doll couldn't help herself and thought back, Yes, exactly.

WHAT rolled his eyes as an image of HECK giving the doll an enthusiastic thumbs-up crept into his mind.  That's exactly the type of joke he would make.

Then, suddenly, he had an epiphany!

There was a super fun game he and HECK used to play where they'd make mortals choose who lives or dies.  What was it called?  He delved into his memories.  Aha!  The Trolley Problem.  He remembered.

He immediately summoned a model train set, configuring its tracks into a large loop. On one side of the loop was a switch that could divert the train between two paths, both of which eventually reconnected to the main loop. He then summoned two toy robots—one pink, one blue—each lying on opposing sides of the split tracks, tied up in toy-sized barbed wire. The robots kicked their little legs, doing a convincing job of simulating a struggle.

The train sat motionless on the tracks near the two robots, pointing in the opposite direction—meaning it would have to travel the entire loop before reaching them. The track connected to a transformer box that controlled the train's speed. The box featured a knob with a circular green-to-red gradient labeled: "OFF," "DEATH," and "FASTER DEATH."

WHAT smiled broadly and strolled over to the section of track where the switch was placed—the doll still clinging to his leg. With an unamused sigh, he plucked her off and set her down beside the switch before announcing the next challenge.

"FOR THIS NEXT TRIAL, I WILL TEST YOUR ETHICS TO DETERMINE IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF... POWERFUL MAGIC." He waved his hands in his usual dramatic fashion, then paused to flash a sinister grin at the doll.

"THIS PINK ROBOT IS PREGNANT AND DUE TO GIVE BIRTH SOON. THIS BLUE ROBOT IS A YOUNG CHILD WITH LIMITLESS POTENTIAL."

He sauntered over to the transformer box, twisted the knob to "FASTER DEATH," and thundered, "GO!" directly into the doll's mind.

The doll didn’t hesitate. She immediately reached down, grabbed the track, and lifted it—disconnecting the circuit that powered the train. The train quickly came to a stop.

She turned to face WHAT, mirroring his sinister grin with one of her own.

WHAT remained unfazed and simply summoned a new section of track in its place.

"THAT’S CHEATING!" the doll thought at WHAT with all her mental might.

WHAT’s grin never wavered.

The doll sprinted to the spot where the wire from the transformer box connected to the tracks. Without hesitation, she plunged her hand into the "wound" on her chest—still there from the mirror’s cut—pulled out a shard of glass, and sliced through the wire.

Once again, the train came to an abrupt stop.

This time, WHAT was genuinely annoyed. Summoning an entirely new transformer box and track was a hassle—though still less annoying than reconnecting wires that had been cut. Nobody likes dealing with wires that have been cut.

He used an invisible force to shoo her back to the switch, summoned replacement parts, and cranked the dial to "FASTER DEATH." The doll now stood there, her own face rapidly approaching maximum insufferability emoji.

She hesitated only for a moment before deciding to attack the problem head-on—literally. Sprinting over to the train, she slammed her head into it, knocking it clean off the tracks.

WHAT sighed, rolled his eyes, and sent a thought directly into her mind at a volume that suggested he was so done with this soul: "That won't work either."

A brand-new train popped into existence exactly where the old one would have been had she not knocked it away.

The doll decided now was the time to panic. "THIS SUCKS!" she thought at WHAT, then fired a very rude mental emoji before concluding, "YOU SUCK!"

WHAT just laughed, a wide grin spreading across his face, and said, "INDEED!"

Frustrated by this totally unfair exercise in soul evaluation, the doll ran over and laid herself down on the tracks—right in front of the robots—hoping it would stop the train in a way that couldn’t be re-summoned with momentum.

WHAT, again, simply shoved her off the tracks in that gentle, soul-crushing way only a god could.

Now intensely angry, the doll gave WHAT the creepiest stare she could manage and sent a mental message that would give any god pause:  I NEVER BELIEVED IN YOU ANYWAY!

WHAT turned the transformer's dial to "OFF," and the train came to a stop just before the switch. He turned to look at the doll with a serious expression and gently sent a heartfelt message into her consciousness:  Thank you.

The doll was surprised beyond belief.  What?

"Haha! Exactly!" WHAT mentally replied, then turned the knob back to "FASTER DEATH."

The doll, in a last-ditch, desperate attempt to reason with the unfathomably unreasonable, thought as hard as she could:  THERE IS NO ETHICAL DILEMMA! THEY’RE JUST ROBOTS!—right before the train ran into the pink robot, gently pushing it off the track before continuing on its infinite loop.

Noticing that the robot didn’t seem to be harmed, the doll’s face lit up slightly as she sent a mental plea to WHAT:  See? It didn’t even hurt that robot!

Suddenly, there was a loud:  DING!

--------------------------------------------

Reality seemed to shift, and the doll suddenly found herself standing before WHAT. Above him hovered the chalkboard, all three of her reincarnation preferences listed. Every one of them was on fire—including "3. Powerful Magic."

The room was now empty, save for a large, remote-controlled delivery truck parked nearby. On the side of the truck was a logo: A smiling cartoon snake giving a thumbs-up, above the words, "KUNDERTAKER."

WHAT stood next to the truck, holding a pistol-grip remote control. The word "TRUCK" was written on it in several places.

Oh my god! Did I do it? Did I pass!? she thought.

WHAT, wearing an expression that somehow exceeded maximum insufferability emoji on the SRPS, peered directly into her soul and stated simply, "Yes. NOW RUN FOR IT!"

He pulled the trigger on the remote, and the truck immediately sped toward the doll.

She tried running in a zig-zag pattern, thinking frantically, SERPENTINE! SERPENTINE!  But it was no use. She heard one final mental message from WHAT:  "SPECIAL DELIVERY!"—right before the truck slammed into her backside, knocking her soul straight out of the doll...

And into her next life.