The Interview - 5. Yes, let's get the interview started

Chapter 5: Yes, let's get the interview started

'Yes, let's get this interview started,' God says.

            'OK, why not?' I answer, after only a moment’s hesitation. I’m impressed with the show they've put on so far and I'm interested to see how far they are willing to take the charade.  Besides, the drink I've been given has done wonders for my hangover so where as my earlier motive was to get back in bed as quickly as possible, I'm now feeling up for a little more diversion. And despite having four strangers in my apartment, at least two of who look like they could do me serious damage, and probably would if given the chance, I feel oddly at ease with them.

            I move over to the lounge, kicking away the scrunched up papers from my path and sweeping away those that ended their journey on the couch. 'Take a seat,' I say to God, and he happily obliges. Michael follows suit, taking up a spot on the other end. Gabriel eyes the couch for a second before declaring that she'll stand, and busies herself setting up the lamp to shine down on God as if preparing for some movie shoot. I look around the room for another place to sit. With no other furniture in sight, my eyes alight on the crate which currently serves as the TV unit.

            'You've got to be kidding me,' Gabriel mutters as I lift the TV off the crate and set it down on the floor. Ignoring her, I drag the crate forward until it faces the lounge and take a seat.

            'Before we start, I'll need to screen the list of questions you have for our Lord,' Gabriel says, holding out her hand for the list.

            'Um, I didn't write down the list, they are all up here,' I improvise, tapping the side of my head.

            'Right. Lord, can I have a chat to you in private?'

            God stands with a slightly exasperated look and they move over into the corner of the room. I look at Michael and he raises an eyebrow at me and shrugs his shoulders. From the corner comes some furious whispering which, due to the fact that the room is a small one and they are only a few metres away, I hear everything.

            'For the last time, I strongly advise you against taking this interview, Lord!'

            'And for the last time, I insist that we proceed. Let's give him a chance.'

            'A chance?! He is hung over, his apartment is a pigsty, and he has not even bothered to prepare any questions. It would take a miracle for anything he writes to get published, let alone for it to prove compelling. This is a complete waste of time.'

            'You forget that miracles are my thing, Gabe.' Out of the corner of my eye I see God place his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. 'I know this is hard for you, but it does not diminish the work you do. This is just a broadening of our portfolio, a test of a fresh medium. There is no need to feel threatened.'

            'Threatened?!' Gabriel blusters. 'My reservations are about damage control, not about job security. I'm worried about the damage this guy can do to your brand!'

            'Well, my brand cannot get much worse than it currently is, so I'm willing to take that risk.' God ends the conversation with no opportunity for further objection and returns to the couch. Gabriel turns away, but not before I catch the dark storm cloud expression painted across her face and hear her grumble something about the indignity of suggesting she is feeling threatened.

            Seeing my pad and paper on the makeshift coffee table right before him, God picks it up and hands it to me. 'You'll be needing this, right?'

            'Oh right,' I say, taking it. I notice again that the top page is empty where I could have sworn I had left the mock letter I had written to God the night before. I decide it must be on the floor with the rest of the discarded papers. I take up the pen and then, thinking twice set it back down on the coffee table and pull out my phone.

            'You don't mind if I record this do you?' I ask, flicking through to the memo App. 'It will allow the conversation to flow a little easier and make sure I capture everything.'

            Gabriel leans forward to object, but God gets in first, throwing her a warning look. 'No, of course I don't mind.'

            I aim a pointed smile at Gabriel, watching her as I press the record button on the app and set the phone down on the coffee table in front of me. She glares back at me, but I turn my attention to the others who are watching me expectantly; God and Michael from the couch, and Raphael from the kitchen, leaning against the door frame that borders the two rooms. I realise that I have no idea what to ask, on account of not having prepared anything.

            I clear my throat, flip a couple of pages on the pad to buy some time and think of a question. Poising my pen to write, I glance down and see the crumpled piece of paper on the floor at my feet that has “Justin Bieber” written on it in my drunken hand-writing. With no other idea's flowing, I shrug and ask, 'So, what were you thinking when you created Bieber?'

            Gabriel steps forward to object once again, but God waves her back. 'I guess I should have seen that question coming. Not my finest creation ever. Gave him the voice of an angel but didn't spend enough time on the virtues of humility. By the time we realised our mistake, he had so many hits on You Tube it would have taken more than a miracle to reign him in. Still, I'm confident we can salvage some sort of parable from his example, even if it ends up being a “this is what you should not do” kind of lesson.'

            I chuckle, impressed at the wit of this guy. Next to God, Michael continues to look on impassively, while on the other side, Gabriel is glaring at me, arms folded, foot tapping. The question was a dumb one, but God answered it well. I decide to throw in another silly question, to annoy Gabriel more than anything.

            'How's your relationship with your parents, Joseph and Mary?'       

            The question has the desired effect, and Gabriel's nostril's flare in annoyance. 'Lord, I must insist that we end...'

            'Gabe, if you are going to interrupt every time, I'll have to insist that you wait in the other room,' God cuts in before she could finish. Gabriel huffs and when I smirk at her she stomps over past Raphael into the kitchen. God watches her go before turning back to me.

            'Well, I should qualify first that they are not technically my parents; technically, I’m their father. They did give birth to Jesus though, who is part of me, which would make them sort of like my parents. But then again, Jesus is also considered my son, so that might make them more like foster parents, I guess.’ He looked slightly puzzled, before rallying ‘It’s complicated. But I do get on well with them both. Mind you, they are a little annoyed at their treatment in the Bibles.'

            'Annoyed? How so?'

            'Well, the whole label of “the Virgin Mary” for starters.'

            'So, she wasn't a virgin?'

            God scoffs. 'No, of course not. The whole story started off as an excuse to her Dad who was angry about her getting pregnant before marriage. It was one of those silly lies that people tell in an effort to avoid negative consequences. But then it blew all out of proportion and once it made it into the Bible there was no turning back, and they were stuck with it forever. I guess you could say that Mary’s lie grew to biblical proportions.’ He grinned, doing that thing Dad’s do when they have just made a Dad joke and are waiting for a laugh or groan, generally happy with either. He looks a little crestfallen when I don’t deliver, but he rallies and continues.

‘So anyway, now every time she Mary gets together with her friends and the talk turns to guys and sex as often happens, she can't say anything without someone making a joke about popping cherries, or telling her not to worry, her first time will come one day. And Joseph? His mates up in heaven started calling him 'God's Cuckold' in about the second century and it has stuck ever since. That particular joke has been going on for close to two thousand years. Even Jesus' brothers and sisters are annoyed, because they effectively got written out of the bibles'.

            ‘You don’t have to lower yourself to this fool’s level, Sire!’ Gabriel hisses in God’s ear, drawn back into the room by the discussion. ‘To be expected to answer these crass questions…’

‘It’s alright Gabe,’ God assured. ‘Please Dan, go on.’

            'So Jesus did have brothers and sisters?'

            'Even if Jesus was conceived without intercourse, do you really think a newly married couple would abstain from sex for their entire marriage? Of course Jesus had brothers and sisters, and Joseph and Mary were good parents.'

            'You've mentioned Sex and Heaven just now, both things I want to ask you about.' I'm finding myself enjoying this.' Let's start with Heaven – it does exist then?'

            'Of course Heaven exists, though it might not match everyone's image of what they will find there.'

            'So, what is it like?'

            'It's pretty similar to Earth, but things are just more chilled out and peaceful. All the stresses of normal life have been removed, so it's kind of like waking up on the right side of the bed every day.

            What about Hell?'

            'Hell? That's an interesting one. I guess hell exists in some way, but like some people's image of heaven, it's not what you might expect.'

            'No fire and brimstone?'

            'No, not exactly. It's all a matter of perspective really, so it’s hard to give you a straight answer. But here's what I can say: I've heard claims from some religious groups that believe that good people are condemned to burn for eternity in the fires of hell if they do not go to church and do not believe in God. That's a load of bullshit they make up to try and scare you into joining their particular church and it gets me riled up every time I hear it. The whole point and purpose of religion is less about worship and more about community and people agreeing to a moral code of behaviour. Some people find this without the benefit of religion and I will not punish them just because they do not go to church. For those that have a harder time finding a place in community and adhering to a social code, or those that simply want to benefit from the good things a church can offer, then that is where religion plays a bigger role.'

            While God talks, I find myself sinking into his words, into the gentle tone of his voice. I am surprised to find myself nodding, agreeing with much of what he's saying. The feeling that I could sit here and listen to him speak forever comes over me and this realisation causes a level of discomfort.

            When he finishes, and all eyes turn to me, I know I should challenge him on his claims. As much as they have resonated with me, it is pretty clear the Catholic church at least, would differ on most points and outright deny some. I imagine a tiny John Holmes, perched on my shoulder and urging me to step into journalistic shoes and ask the question.

            But I don't. Part of me clings to the fact that this is just a hoax, a convincing one, but ultimately someone taking the piss. Part of me wants to stick it to the imaginary John Holmes; he wouldn't publish my book so why should I bend to his wishes? And another part, though I try to deny it, is afraid of getting into a deep theological discussion. So instead, I ask a question that will bring the conversation back to a lighter, and ultimately safer place.