God’s Offer and My Big Mouth

The damn golden hallway stretched on forever. Or at least it felt that way. After what seemed like minutes of trudging through blinding light and silence, I finally arrived at a massive door marked with a giant “1.” No handle. No bell. Just polished wood carved with strange symbols I couldn’t decipher.

“So what now? Do I knock? Do a little dance? Start praying?”

The door creaked open on its own — slow, dramatic, straight out of a horror movie. Of course. Even in the afterlife, they had to make everything theatrical.

I stepped into an office that would make any corporate CEO weep with envy. Vaulted ceiling, marble columns, windows overlooking… nothing. Just an endless, soothing white void. And behind a mahogany desk that probably cost more than my annual salary, sat her.

She was breathtaking. The kind of beauty that punches the air out of your lungs and scrambles your brain. Golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Eyes as deep and blue as the ocean. Perfect, sculpted features like some divine artist had spent centuries chiseling them. She wore a simple white dress that seemed to glow from within.

Even through the fog of my own death, my brain clocked the situation’s potential.

“All right, listen…” I said, putting on my most charming grin as I walked toward her desk. “I don’t really know what’s going on here, but maybe we can skip the foreplay and go straight to the main event. Your place or mine? Assuming you’ve got bedrooms somewhere in this heavenly admin building…”

She gave me a look so profoundly tired it could’ve crushed mountains. Like she’d heard that exact line a thousand times.

“You really never change, Ethan…”

I froze. That voice. That tone. That way of saying my name.

“Wait — do we… know each other?”

She sighed and fixed me with those ocean eyes, scanning me like she was peeling back my skull.

I racked my brain. I would remember someone like her. Unless… oh crap. One of those nights. Too much whiskey after a brutal shift, and I’d wake up next to someone I didn’t know. It had happened before.

“Uh, look… if we slept together and I forgot, I’m sorry. I was probably blackout drunk. But hey, we could always make new memories, right?”

Her expression shifted from tired to exasperated to genuinely pissed. Her eyes flared with an ominous light.

“Sit. Now.”

The tone left zero room for argument. My legs moved on their own, carrying me to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk.

“What the hell did you just do to me?”

She opened a file and silently read for several long, uncomfortable minutes before locking eyes with me again.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly, Ethan Russell. I’m God.”

I stared at her for a few seconds, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. A loud, unrestrained belly laugh.

“God? Seriously? You?”

I stood up and started pacing.

“Listen, sweetheart, I don’t know what kind of cosplay cult this is, but God’s supposed to be some old bearded dude in a toga and sandals. A primitive bedtime story people told to explain rain and thunder. A washed-up concept for people who need a cosmic daddy to hold their hand.”

She didn’t flinch. She smiled. And that smile sent a chill down my spine.

“Still as… eloquent in your blasphemy as ever.”

Her voice suddenly changed — deeper, almost masculine, with a thick French accent.

“Where was your grand plan when a twelve-year-old girl died because some idiot botched her diagnosis? Where were you, you cosmic sadist? Lose a poker game to Satan?”

I froze. Those were my words. I’d shouted them in my office, alone, after Yuki’s death. My exact words. My tone. My fury.

“How do you —”

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

She stood and walked toward me. With each step, I felt an invisible weight press against my chest.

“And that free will crap? What a convenient excuse. You give monsters the freedom to hurt innocents, but you don’t give doctors the power to save everyone? Bravo, genius!”

My jaw snapped open and shut like a fish out of water. Those were my private thoughts. Words I’d never shared with another soul.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I told you. I’m God. And contrary to what you think, I’m neither bearded nor male.”

She waved her hand and a transparent screen shimmered into existence in midair. It played scenes from my life like security footage: me yelling at the ceiling in my office; me screaming at the “Grand Architect” in my car; me in my apartment, toasting the sky with whisky and mocking divine incompetence.

“Okay… okay, let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you’re the ‘Being X’ upstairs. What do you want from me?”

She dismissed the screen and returned to her desk.

“Excellent question. You see, Ethan, your case is… fascinating.”

“Fascinating how?”

She flipped through the thick dossier again.

“Graduated top of your class. Specialized in emergency medicine. Twenty-five years on the job without a single malpractice claim. Thousands of lives saved. Sixteen-hour workdays. You refuse cushier administrative positions. You treat patients who can’t pay. You pay for their medicine out of your own pocket.”

“And your point? Guilty of doing my job well.”

She laughed — a clear, ringing laugh that filled the entire room.

“You’re extraordinary. You spend your vacations performing free surgeries for undocumented migrants. You strong-arm insurance companies into covering treatments. You fight for people no one else will fight for.”

She leaned forward, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“And last night, your final words on Earth… do you remember them?”

Images of the falling girl and her bloodstained silver cross flashed in my mind. My usual divine rant came flooding back.

“Once again, you protect the guilty and punish the victims. Nice job, you cosmic joke! Your justice is as fake as you are!”

She chuckled. “‘Cosmic joke.’ I admit, that one’s my favorite. You spent your entire life insulting me, blaspheming me, denying my existence. And even with your dying breath, you spit in my face.”

She walked around the desk and leaned close, her presence overwhelming.

“So here’s what I’m going to do, Ethan. As a reward for your relentless dedication, I’m giving you a second chance. Reincarnation.”

“Reincarnation?”

“In a world I think you’ll enjoy. A fantasy world — like the ones from your favorite books. A place called Aetheria.”

My heart kicked up despite myself. A fantasy world? Magic?

“But…”

Of course there was a “but.”

“This world is deeply religious. Hierarchical. Magical healing is reserved for nobles and temple faithful. The poor die quietly while priests grow fat on their gold.”

A wicked smile spread across her lips.

“As punishment for your incurable heresy, you’ll be reborn into the body of a man in his forties. You’ll keep all your memories and medical knowledge — but you’ll inherit his life, his history. In this world, you’ll have no choice but to turn toward faith for inner peace. You’ll discover the beauty of devotion, the serenity of prayer…”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, sweetheart!”

I jumped to my feet, anger flaring hotter than fear.

“You can dump me in any world, any body — you won’t change me. I’ll never worship you. I’ll never pray to you. And I sure as hell won’t become one of your bleating little sheep!”

She clapped slowly, mock applause echoing through the chamber.

“Perfect. That’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

“What?”

“You see, Ethan, I could make you believe. It would be easy. You’d become the most devout believer overnight. But where’s the fun in that?”

She strolled toward me, hands behind her back, almost giddy.

“No, what I want is to watch you struggle against yourself. To see if even the staunchest atheist can find something bigger than himself.”

“In your dreams!”

“We’ll see.”

She snapped her fingers. My body grew heavy, my eyelids drooping uncontrollably.

“Sweet dreams, Ethan. And remember: the next time we meet, you’ll be one of my faithful.”

“Never! Do you hear me? NEVER!”

My protest was swallowed by the darkness rushing in. The last thing I heard was her crystalline, satisfied laughter.