The Great Cosmic Game of Hide-and-Seek (and the Very Patient Landlord)

The Head Office—or what mortals vaguely imagined as the Big Blue Beyond—was quiet, save for the faint, steady sound of harp music and the occasional sigh from the Boss.

The Boss, an eternally patient, infinitely powerful Entity known best as The Architect, or sometimes simply The Landlord, leaned back in His swivel chair (He found the cloud-thrones a bit stuffy, frankly). On the wall-sized, holographic display before Him, millions of tiny blue dots representing humanity were zipping around a small, rotating planet.

“Honestly, Gabriel,” The Architect murmured, adjusting the feed, “look at Gary.”
Gabriel, the venerable archangel and Celestial Operations Manager, peered over The Architect’s shoulder. Gary, a middle-aged accountant in suburban Ohio, was currently performing a complex ritual in his backyard.

“Ah, Gary,” Gabriel observed, stroking his chin. “His ‘Quartz Manifestation Ceremony.’ See, he’s trying to secure a raise.”

The Architect zoomed in. Gary was kneeling barefoot on his lawn, earnestly reciting affirmations to a moss-covered river stone, which he had affectionately named ‘Brenda.’ He was also attempting to balance a tiny vial of organic lavender oil on Brenda’s uneven surface.
“Right,” The Architect sighed, rubbing the bridge of His nose. “Now, recall the memo, Gabriel? The one I sent out to all of humanity 3,000 years ago, summarizing the whole ‘how-to-get-your-needs-met’ thing?”
“Yes, Boss. Point 1: Talk to Me. Point 2: I’m listening. Point 3: It’s a free, 24/7 service.”

“Exactly! But does Gary talk to Me? No. He talks to Brenda, the slightly damp rock. Brenda, who, by the way, has the cognitive processing power of, well, a rock.”

Suddenly, the screen flashed, indicating a major global event.
“Oh, a water ceremony!” Gabriel brightened. “It’s the annual ‘Finding Inner Peace Through Submerged Pebbles’ festival in Bali.”
On the screen, thousands of people were lined up, waiting their turn to whisper their deepest desires—a promotion, true love, better Wi-Fi—into a small stream before dropping a personalized pebble into the rushing water.

The Architect threw up His hands. “They’re speaking to moving water! It literally carries their requests away! It’s the ultimate metaphysical ‘Return to Sender.’ And yet, I’m right here. My ears are open. I even installed a cosmic suggestion box called ‘Prayer,’ but they treat it like a spam folder!”

Gabriel chuckled softly. “It’s the great human tradition, Boss. The Grand Post-Eden Sprint.”
“The sprint! Precisely!” The Architect’s voice rose slightly. “Adam and Eve—first thing they did? Flee. They heard my voice and immediately booked it, hid behind a fig bush. Fig bush! Since then, it’s been a non-stop marathon of misdirection.”
* They ran into caves and invented totems.
* They ran up mountainsides and established complicated sacrifices.
* They ran into dense forests and started worshipping particularly tall, ancient trees.
* They ran into cathedrals and created detailed dogmas about Me that made Me sound like a very irritable, bureaucratic tax collector.
“They do everything but sit down on the metaphorical park bench next to Me and say, ‘Hey. Got a minute?’” He tapped a button, and a small, isolated feed appeared.

It showed a woman, Eleanor, sitting alone in her apartment. She was struggling with profound loneliness. Instead of reaching out, she was carefully arranging a collection of house plants—a Philodendron, a Zamioculcas, and a Ficus Benghalensis—into a ‘Feng Shui Tranquility Circle’ hoping they would somehow, mystically, align her life forces.

“Look at Eleanor! She’s trying to get emotional support from the chlorophyll! She’s trying to manifest a soulmate by giving her rubber plant a pep talk! I’m the ultimate source of companionship! I’m literally woven into the fabric of her being! I just want to talk about her day, maybe offer some pointers on that Ficus—it’s looking a little dry, actually.”

Gabriel smiled warmly. “But that’s the beautiful, infuriating paradox, isn’t it, Boss?

Every time they run, they run toward something I made. They seek solace in the rock, but I laid the foundation of the Earth. They seek calm in the water, but I set its boundaries. They seek wisdom in the ancient grove, but I planted the seed.”

He gestured to the main screen, where Gary, having successfully balanced the lavender oil, was now beaming at ‘Brenda.’

“They are running away from the very thing that is relentlessly, patiently, lovingly running after them,” Gabriel concluded. “They can try to hide under every man-made theology, every ritualistic groove, every shiny self-help crystal… but they can’t outrun the sheer goodness of the One who just wants to hug them and say, ‘Took you long enough. Now, tell Me about the raise.’”

The Architect watched Gary. He sighed, but the sigh was warm, not weary, suddenly a humorous glint appeared in his eyes…
“Alright. I’ll give Gary the raise. Maybe he’ll think Brenda did it. It’ll just buy Me another couple of weeks before he starts talking to his toaster instead. Get the ‘Unmerited Favour’ package ready, Gabriel. We’re deploying it again.”