Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Gawd's angels


 













As Gawd sat on his Harley surveying the interminable snowy tundra enveloping his horizon, he shuddered at a thought that just happened to pop into his frozen apperception. His poor angels, how would they take to this frigid latitude given their lacklustre use of thermal underwear as their mission on earth expanded to follow these oil crazed lunatics who where wanting to drill in this here environment. Even with global warming he couldn't defrost this place fast enough to keep his angels comfortable without giving up his reticence.

He started up his Harley and roared off into the starry darkness. Blessed are the meek, he kept thinking to himself, they shall inherit the white heaven on this little blue marble. But it wasn't happening. Those stubborn plutocrats who thought in actions of all men, especially princes, there was no recourse to justice, the end was all that counted. Did they not know that it was easier for a rope to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to survive in this heavenly inclemency? Or did they just plan to send hooligans, paying them minimum wage, and coming themselves for a once yearly summertime visit to extol the wonders of this great white heaven, totally ignoring the liver damage caused by the amount of booze needed to maintain an ebullient year round workforce.

Gawd sputtered to a slow stop on a windswept plateau overlooking the grey wintry sea. How many angels could he safely place on one rig to keep these idiots safe, not to mention the pristine ice? He reconsidered the major theological question since the Middle Ages. Thomas Aquinas had wondered how many angels could dance on the point of a pin? The basic issue here was the maximal density of active angels in a small volume. Due to quantum gravity, space was not infinitely divisible beyond the Planck length scale of 10exp-35 meters. Hence, assuming the point of the pin to be about one Ångström, the size of a scanning tunnelling microscope tip, this would produce a maximal number of angels on the order of 1050 since they would not have more places to fill.

Using this one Ångström x 1050 x the size of a rig this would probably be enough to stave off most catastrophes. His angels were pretty agile for the most part, even in thermal underwear. Gawd gazed at the stars. Nowhere in this vast universe had he run into such bullheaded lifeforms. But given the freewill imparted on these special creatures who had created him in their own image, he'd best mollify the impact their free enterprise system was about to ravage upon these icy waters. He'd have to set up a training course for his angels to deal with arctic conditions. Maybe they'd go for thermal underwear if it was red.

As he took off again, pulling a wheely on the ice, Gawd chuckled to himself. Billions of angels in red underwear trying to camouflage themselves against the white backdrop whilst keeping his boozed out creators functional enough to prevent them from smudging up this heaven. That should give rise to some strange myths.
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