In humble acknowledgment of Bertrand Russell’s original from Fact and Fiction, 1961.
“We live on a hunk of rock and metal that circles a humdrum star that is one of 400 billion other stars that make up the Milky Way Galaxy which is one of billions of other galaxies which make up a universe which may be one of a very large number, perhaps an infinite number, of other universes. That is a perspective on human life and our culture that is well worth pondering.” (Carl Sagan, quoted in Dan Lewandowski and John Stear, A Tribute To Carl Sagan.)
The eminent theologian Dr. Thaddeus dreamt that he died and pursued his course toward heaven. His studies had prepared him and he had no difficulty in finding the way. He knocked at the door of heaven, and was met with a closer scrutiny than he expected.
“I ask admission,” he said, “because I was a good man and devoted my life to the glory of God.”
“Man?” said the janitor, “What is that? And how could such a funny creature as you do anything to promote the glory of God?”
Dr. Thaddeus was astonished. “You surely cannot be ignorant of man. You must be aware that man is the supreme work of the Creator.”
“As to that,” said the janitor, “I am sorry to hurt your feelings, but what you’re saying is news to me. I doubt if anybody up here has ever heard of this thing you call ‘man.’ However, since you seem distressed, you shall have a chance of consulting our Chief Information Officer.”
The CIO, a globular being with a thousand eyes and one mouth, bent some of his eyes upon Dr. Thaddeus. “What is this?” he asked the janitor.
“This,” replied the janitor, “says that it is a member of a species called ‘man,’ which lives in a place called ‘Earth.’ It has some odd notion that the Creator takes a special interest in this place and this species. I thought perhaps you could enlighten it.”
“Well,” said the CIO kindly to the theologian, “perhaps you can tell me where this place is that you call ‘Earth.'”
“Oh,” said the theologian, “it’s part of the Solar System.”
“And what is the Solar System?” asked the CIO.
“Oh,” said the theologian, somewhat disconcerted, “my province was Sacred Knowledge, but the question that you are asking belongs to profane knowledge. However, I have learnt enough from my astronomical friends to be able to tell you that the Solar System is part of the Milky Way.”
“And what is the Milky Way?” asked the CIO.
“Oh, the Milky Way is one of the Galaxies, of which, I am told, there are billions.”
“Well, well,” said the CIO, “you could hardly expect me to remember one out of so many. But I do remember to have heard the word ‘galaxy’ before. In fact, I believe that one of our data managers specializes in galaxies. Let us send for him and see whether he can help.”
After no very long time, the data manager made his appearance. In shape, he was a dodecahedron. It was clear that at one time his surface had been bright, but the gloom of the data office had rendered him dim and opaque. The CIO explained to him that Dr. Thaddeus, in endeavoring to account for his origin, had mentioned galaxies, and it was hoped that information could be obtained from the galactic section of the data base.
“Well,” said the data manager, “I suppose it might become possible in time, but as there are billions of galaxies, and each has a database to itself, it takes some time to find any particular one. Which is it that this odd molecule desires?”
“It is the one called ‘The Milky Way,'” Dr. Thaddeus falteringly replied.
“All right,” said the data manager, “I will find it if I can.”
The manager spoke a series of demands into a small handheld device, rolled three of its eyes at the handheld’s high pitched beeps and started pacing the room. Some three minutes later the handheld beeped again and identified the galaxy as number QX321762.
This search string,” intoned the handheld, “engaged 45% of processing power. This galaxy’s data has never been accessed since Number One accidentally created it during that explicit verbal battle with Lucifer way back in 804.68! Why was this search requested? I am programmed to register an Out of Bounds Report on Gabriel’s Log.”
“Override the OOB”, ordered the CIO.
The clerk of QX321762 was sent for and turned out to be an octahedron with an eye in each face and a mouth in one of them. He was surprised and dazed to find himself in such a soothing region, away from the glare of display units.
Pulling himself together, he asked, rather shyly, “What is it you wish to know about my galaxy?”
Dr. Thaddeus spoke up: “What I want is to know about the Solar System, a collection of heavenly bodies revolving about one of the stars in your galaxy. The star about which they revolve is called ‘the Sun.'”
“Humph,” said the QX321762 clerk, “it was hard enough to hit upon the right galaxy, but to hit upon the right star in the galaxy is far more difficult. I know that there are about four hundred billion stars in the galaxy, but I have no knowledge, myself, that would distinguish one of them from another. I believe, however, that at one time a list of the whole lot was demanded by the Administration and that it is still stored in the archives. If you think it worth while, I will engage special labor from the Other Place to search for this particular star.”
It was agreed that, since the question had arisen and since Dr. Thaddeus was evidently suffering some distress, this might be the wisest course.
Several hours later, a very weary and dispirited tetrahedron presented himself before the galactic data manager. “I have,” he said, “at last discovered the particular star concerning which inquiries have been made, but I am quite at a loss to imagine why it has aroused any special interest. It closely resembles a great many other stars in the same galaxy. It is of average size and temperature, and is surrounded by very much smaller bodies called ‘planets.’ After minute investigation, I discovered that some, at least, of these planets have parasites, and I think that this thing which has been making inquiries must be one of them.”
At this point, Dr. Thaddeus burst out in a passionate and indignant lament: “Why, oh why, did the Creator conceal from us poor inhabitants of Earth that it was not we who prompted Him to create the Heavens? Throughout my long life, I have served Him diligently, believing that He would notice my service and reward me with Eternal Bliss. And now, it seems that He was not even aware that I existed. You tell me that I am an infinitesimal animalcule on a tiny body revolving round an insignificant member of a collection of four hundred billion stars, which is only one of many millions of such collections. I cannot bear it, and can no longer adore my Creator.”
“Very well,” said the janitor, “then you can go to the Other Place.”
Here the theologian awoke. “The power of Satan over our sleeping imagination is terrifying,” he muttered.