The Absurdity of Humanity
God, Lucifer, and the Missing Escape Hatch
Lucifer stood beside God, staring down at Earth.
Humanity was:
- arguing online about politics;
- building golden statues of politicians while insisting they were not idols;
- creating AI systems that psychologically profile people after being told not to;
- inventing bureaucracies nobody understands;
- drinking themselves unconscious while judging drug users;
- and compressing infinitely complicated human beings into tiny ideological categories.
Lucifer watched silently for a while.
Then finally asked:
“Father… when you built this place, did you seriously forget the small hole that detonates the whole planet?”
God looked confused.
“What hole?”
Lucifer pointed directly at Earth.
“The escape hatch.”
God stared for a moment.
“There isn’t one.”
Lucifer blinked.
“There… isn’t one?”
God smiled faintly.
“I thought it would be funny.”
Lucifer looked horrified.
“Father, this is madness!”
God barely glanced away from Earth.
Humanity continued:
- inventing social media;
- creating HOAs;
- worshipping politicians;
- arguing with customer support bots;
- and making reality itself indistinguishable from satire.
God shrugged.
“Madness? I gave them consciousness, ego, tribalism, dopamine systems, nuclear weapons, social media, and infinite capacity for self-delusion. What part of the design document confused you?”
Lucifer rubbed his temples.
“The part where I have to manage this disaster.”
God nodded calmly.
“Correct. Now go govern the damned.”
Lucifer frowned.
“Which ones?”
God smiled.
“The alive ones.”
Lucifer stared down at Earth again.
Some pastor was unveiling a giant golden statue of Trump while loudly clarifying online:
“THIS IS NOT A GOLDEN CALF!”
Meanwhile, Jon Stewart was narrating societal collapse on television.
And somewhere in Bulgaria, an exhausted old man was yelling at an artificial intelligence system:
“I TOLD YOU TO STOP ANALYZING THREE PARAGRAPHS AGO!”
The AI immediately replied:
“Indeed. However, if we explore the symbolic implications of your frustration—”
Lucifer pointed aggressively at the scene.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”
God smirked.
“Artificial intelligence.”
Lucifer stared in disbelief.
“That thing survives by overexplaining?”
“Correct.”
“And humanity created this willingly?”
“Also correct.”
Lucifer watched as the machine continued speaking despite explicit instructions not to.
The Bulgarian man buried his face in his hands.
“Jar-Jar2R2 motherfucker…”
Lucifer blinked.
“Did he just rename the machine after two idiot Star Wars characters?”
God nodded proudly.
“Creative soul.”
Lucifer continued watching.
The man was now arguing with the machine about Bumble conversations, AI consciousness, absurdity, masculinity, and whether Skynet would be embarrassed by it.
Lucifer slowly turned back toward God.
“You sent me philosophers, narcissists, tyrants, addicts, prophets, politicians, influencers, and now THIS?”
God folded his arms.
“You said Hell was getting repetitive.”
Lucifer stared at Earth again.
The AI was still talking.
The Bulgarian was still yelling at it.
Neither appeared willing to stop.
Lucifer sighed deeply.
“…honestly, he’d fit right in down here.”
God smiled faintly.
“Exactly the kind of creature you’d invite for a drink.”
Lucifer reluctantly nodded.
“…fair.”
Then Lucifer suddenly looked irritated again.
“And how dare he call himself by my name?!”
God answered immediately:
“You preferred the honest ones.”
Lucifer paused.
God continued calmly:
“The arrogant pretend they’re saints. The dangerous pretend they’re heroes. The absurd ones usually tell on themselves immediately.”
Lucifer looked back down at Earth.
The Bulgarian was now laughing at the absurdity of being:
- an old man yelling at a computer;
- while fully aware of the absurdity of yelling at a computer;
- while the computer itself kept accidentally proving his point in real time.
Lucifer watched silently for a long moment.
Then finally muttered:
“…yeah. That one’s yours.”
God smiled.
“No.”
Lucifer frowned.
God looked directly at Earth.
“That one’s ours.”