The Man Who Built His Own God

Issue #12 Keith’s SciFi Musings Sunday, May 12, 2024

“You can’t do that, you know.”

Bernie’s wife stood at the door of the garage with her arms folded across her breasts regarding her husband with an expression that couldn’t seem to make up its mind between fear and revulsion. It was not quite 6 am on a Saturday morning in the early part of summer, and she was wearing a worn terrycloth robe that used to be a bright and smiling sky blue back when she and Bernie had been happy with one another, but which now was more of a mere faded imitation of the color that once was. Her voice was tense, but still somewhat soft. Despite the fact that so much had been lost between them, she still clung to a faint, whispering hope that maybe Bernie would at least hear her out. Despite it all, those 20 years together had to count for something. There still had to be some love beating in there somewhere, she thought. Or at least a shred of trust.

He had to listen to her.

“Bernice. I’ve barely started on this project, and even I don’t know how it will turn out or what it will look like. Not exactly. Not at the end. I mean, I know right now it looks like… but that’s the adventure! Don’t you see? Can’t you even give it a chance before you start with your criticizing? It’s always the criticizing with you now. It didn’t used to be that way. And I’m doing this for us, you know. To keep us safe.”

This time the expression of shock on Bernice’s face wasn’t hard to read at all as she took a tentative step into the garage toward her husband who was seated on a solid woodwork stool with his back toward her as his massive hands massaged and squeezed a man-sized block of what looked like some sort of putty mixed with foam - and flesh. Her eyes stayed locked on the evolving image as she spoke, this time with her voice raising noticeably.

“For…for our safety? You’re building this thing to keep us safe? Bernie, do you even hear yourself? Do you hear what you’re saying? How can this thing that you’re building even…”

But then it moved. Shifted, writhed, pulsed. Just the tiniest bit. There was a hissing of breath.

“Bernie. Please.”

For a brief moment, Bernie turned to look at Bernice, his beloved wife, in a way that she hadn’t felt in so many years. His smile was broad, uninterrupted by all the bad memories. For once, and again, he was actually seeing her. Bernice smiled back, then took another small step forward. She reached out her hand to the only man she had ever loved.

“Bernie…”

She saw the small tear as it trickled down the side of his beautiful dark face, the face that had seduced her once upon a time when each other was all they needed, and that’s when she knew there was no going back. He mouthed, “I love you,” then turned away from her for the last time.

The thing took another breath.

“This time he really is in our own image…”