An Oyster's Observation of the Ending of Things
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"Why did you do it?" the Oyster asked of God.

The Oyster did not see the sand beneath its shell, nor did it feel the warmth with which the stunning patterns of silica below imparted upon it, nor did it hear the gentle whistling of the wind surrounding it, but it knew these things were there. How it knew them, it was not entirely sure. It did know that as far as the horizon stretched, this dazzling array of silicon and oxygen remained, and it continued far beyond the horizon, presumably until it wrapped back around to this very spot. On the surface of this Earth, naught remained but sand, save the two figures standing together on a lone dune.

God replied in his usual tone.

"Oyster, my dear old friend, you of all things should know this must be done. You were with me in the Flood, as you were with me now. The sins of this earth were far too great to heal. With each passing day, the world became a more violent and lawless place, each fleeting moment bearing witness to some new act of cruelty, dreamt up by a deranged madman who has been given power over others. Again and again, ad infinitum. What once remained beneath our feet was soil soaked with the blood of billions, who had been carved, butchered, and treated to cruelty unmatched. Mankind, and the earth it once inhabited, have betrayed my trust, broken my bonds, excised my heart from all that is good, and made a mockery of all that I have set out to do.

I see all that is, and all that ever will be. I have seen standing here with you, together, as clearly as I see it now. I have seen what happens when we no longer stand together, and all that will ever occur past that point in time. I have seen every single moment of cruelty and barbarity this earth has inflicted upon its residents, and its residents have inflicted upon each other. Each time, I feel what they feel, in the moments of their deepest despair, and I cannot help but weep. Divinity does not save one from the suffering of the world."

"Divinity does not save one from responsibility," said the Oyster, the blazing sun glinting off its shell. "At some point, you must contend with the fact that your sins outnumber their own."

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God did not respond. The only sound heard was that of the gently whistling wind, blowing grains of sand into the indent in the desert the Oyster had once occupied. Soon enough, the sand was undisturbed once again, leaving no trace of its former inhabitant, and God walked westward into the setting sun.

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