The only reasonable response to this is to seek quantifiable scientific proof. Is there a God?
He was born on Christmas Eve, an irony of sorts.
He bashed the side of the monitor with his hand and the mottled static resolved itself into the image of a man.
On this the fifteenth day of August in the year of 2115 we gather together to witness a turning point in the history of mankind.
“There,” he sighed, “these are all the places that you’ll find pieces of me.”
“Look, Louise, it’s…it’s not you…it’s me,” he stammered. “Well, of course it’s not me, I’m fucking amazing!” she replied, angrily. “Why would it be me? You’re the one who wants to end it, so it’s obviously you,” she took a long drag on her cigarette.
Come out with us. Have a drink. Just have one drink. Have a couple. It won’t hurt. You can just have a couple, can’t you? What’s the harm?