“I’m trapped in a bubble of solipsism,” said Dave.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not sure; it just seems like I’ll be the fool no matter what I think or do.”

Dave took a bite out of his burger.

“Well, I start here: you have to eat and pay rent,” replied Billy. “You need to know how to make money, how to support yourself then the people around you, and how to clean up after yourself. After I do that, I go to bed.”

“No, I mean does truth really make a difference? There are hundreds of rooms on the Titanic, but no matter which one you choose, the ship’s gonna sink.”

“You sailing on a ship of hubris?”

Dave made a face and rolled his head in acknowledgment.

“I’m just not satisfied with where Jesus, Nietzsche, Sartre, and Camus leave me,” said Dave.

“Do you believe in God?” asked Billy before shoving a forkful of chili fries into his mouth.

“I try to, no matter how stupid anyone says it makes me.”

“I couldn’t come around to accepting the idea. It just didn’t make sense to me, believing in something I didn’t have proof of. Finally, my sponsor said, ‘do you know where all the wires in the walls are that lead to the light switch?’

“I said no, and he went on, ‘do you know where the power plant is that the electricity comes from or the exact route that the powerlines follow?’ and again I said no.

“He said, ’what do you think’ll happen when you flip the switch? You believe it’ll connect the circuit, the current will alternate, and the light will turn on, right?

“He told me I knew a lot about electricity, but that I didn’t know everything about it, and the light still turns on, regardless of what I think or know about it.’ I told him, yeah but I can go look all those things up and figure all those things out. He said ’and you could do that with God if you were more than a man.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“I’ve heard that before. I always thought the example worked better with a computer. Most people think computers are magic. I’ve got my own reasons though.”

“Okay, so what makes you believe in God?”

“Imagine you spent months working on a clay sculpture, tediously making every detail perfect. Every day, you tweaked with the arms, or worked on the texture of the ‘cloth.’ Every day, you looked at your project while you wash the clay off of your hands. ’This is going to be great!’ you think. ’I can’t wait until I’m done. This’ll be my greatest work.’

“Finally, you’re done, everything is just right, and you put your masterpiece of masterpieces in the kiln. You open the kiln, and out pops your little person, the person whose face you looked on day after day as you paid careful painstaking attention to every single detail that could possibly be noticed.

“She looks up at you and says, ‘wow! Who are you?’ You say, ‘I made you! I worked really hard to do so. I counted the hairs on your head and the pores of your skin. I also made everything in this studio. I thought you would fit in as the masterpiece of all these works. I hope you like them because I made them for you too. What do you think?’

“Your project covers her little ears and screams ‘La la la la! I can’t hear you. I hate you. You don’t exist. You’re dead to me. I made myself in the fires of creation. Where were you then? Everything around me is happenstance and I’ll prove it. What have you done for me lately?’

“You’d be pretty upset if that happened, right? It’d break your heart. You’d go home and cry about how you put so much hard work into that little gal, and she just kept screaming about absurdity and being a meaningless shout in the dark. All you wanted her to do was comment on your works of art, admiring what you’d done, but there she goes running off to kill herself because ‘there is no purpose.’ I believe the Golden Rule is the most effective way to be a person, so I do my best to take the same approach to God.”

“That is an interesting approach.”

“Thanks, but it has the same problem as most examples; it’s too simple.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, we’re just monkeys or barbarians talking within our limits. It’s like that scene in Conan the Barbarian.” Dave put on a Schwarzenegger voice, “Crom laughs at your electrical circuit and my clay sculptor.”

Billy laughed and said, “that’s not half-bad.”

“Thanks, but do you get what I’m saying? My model is a code I use to distill something from the enigma of life. In and of itself, it’s still another riddle.”

“...And we, who found it, are just men. Not gods. Not giants. Just men.”