THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS

Adapted and condensed from a book by Peter DeRosa

Once upon an eternity—long before your world—I, Horgath, decided to make a world of My own. If I may say so Myself, I really am rather kind and fair. And I was in My kindest and fairest mood when I said to Myself, “I’m going to make The Best Of All Possible Worlds.” I planned Happyland down to the very last detail. You see, I was set on making My creatures perfectly content. Out came my drawing board for preliminary 3-D sketches. First of all, there was the problem of My creatures’ shape. I experimented with cubes, pyramids, and countless other forms. But eventually I erased them all and settled for the sphere. “It’s so beautiful and harmonious,” I thought. “And, besides, a sphere is very like Me: no beginning and no end.”

In next to no time I drew the first of My Roundfolk. “How beautiful!” I exclaimed, quite overcome by its magnificence. And I proceeded in the first flush of creation to draw another. “Beautiful,” I cried again, until I realized that here was My first major policy decision. “Are all My creatures to look alike?” I saw at once that any differences would ruin their perfect symmetry and however slight, might lead to rivalry and misunderstandings. My head was in a whirl, I can tell you. Why risk envy, jealousy, greed, hatred, theft, fighting, and ultimately war? Far fairer to make all My creatures exactly alike. “Then they are sure to live in peace and harmony.”

My planning now complete, I uttered My magic formula, and five thousand friendly Roundfolk bounced delightedly into Happyland.

I looked on unseen. In order to be fair, I remained invisible. I didn’t want them to catch a glimpse of My infinite superiority and feel envious. I was pleased to see many of the Roundfolk pressing their brain-computer buttons and asking who had put them in this wonderful world. The programmed reply was: “The great god Horgath.” The Roundfolk’s cry of praise and thanks was music to My ears.

I congratulated Myself on having made My first attempt at The Best Of All Possible Worlds. From time to time, I glanced at Happyland to watch the Roundfolk enjoy a round of golf, a musical concert, or a trip up a tall mountain with a glorious view. It seemed to Me in those moments that everything was not merely good but the very best.

It is hard to say exactly when I first noticed signs of coolness creeping into Happyland. But no doubt about it, fewer prayers of thanks were being offered. Before things got completely out of hand, I made myself visible to the Roundfolk. I wanted to have words with My creatures. “Now,” I said, when all the Roundfolk having recovered from their astonishment, had congregated on the cliff, “tell Me, what’s the trouble? Haven’t I placed you in The Best Of All Possible Worlds? Surely I have a right to know why you are miserable.”

Encouraged by My gentle tone, one of them rolled forward to say, “Excuse me, Horgath, but we don’t bounce up the mountains as we used to because it’s… unrewarding.” Another added, “There’s no challenge in it. Who wants to do what everyone else can do without even trying?” Another backed up this complaint. “It costs far too much to do effortless things. It’s too monotonous. That’s why, in the end, nothing gets done.”

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”I planned everything for your happiness,” I protested.

“We know that,” several creatures hastened to reply, “but we are finding perfection just a little boring. We were wondering if life could be made a bit more difficult so we might enjoy ourselves?” “I’m beginning to suspect,” I admitted, “that I don’t understand you very well at all.” “It’s like this,” one creature said. “We feel You have done everything for us. We wonder if You made the world more for Your own peace of mind than for our benefit.”

“But look at your shape,” I said. “It’s spherical, without beginning or end. Can’t you see I made you in My own image and likeness?” “Only outwardly, Horgath,” one of them said. “We are more counterfeits than images because we, unlike You, are not allowed to create.” “But,” I said in My defense, “if I let you create, there will be lots of differences between you.” “We would prefer that.”

I confess I was startled by the spontaneity of their response. “But I wanted to be perfectly fair, and that’s why I made you all alike.” A mutter of “Boring, boring, boring” went around the assembly. I continued hurriedly as if I hadn’t heard, “If I were to allow differences, don’t you see there would be endless squabbling?” “We’ll risk it,” all the Roundfolk cried.“But then there will be pain and evil.” “So be it, Horgath,” was their loud reply.

“How can there be evil in The Best Of All Possible Worlds?”

“In our view, Horgath, there has to be evil in such a world. Otherwise, how will it develop? How will we ever make our contributions? How can we show each other love when there is no possible risk of pain or loss?”

Politely, I took My leave of Happyland to think over the Roundfolk’s complaints. Absolute fairness, I realized, has its disadvantages. It made all My creatures equal, but equally bored and lonely too. No one needed or helped anyone else. “But isn’t this,” I asked Myself frustratedly, “the price of perfection?”

I was horrified to notice a couple of Roundfolk slyly picking up their houses and heading towards a remote valley. They were in revolt against My plan for their well-being and were defiantly choosing a less favourable view simply to be different from the rest. To stop the nonsense, I put in another public appearance and called a meeting. Even those who were carting off their houses to a distant valley came to it, though with obvious reluctance. I addressed them in these few words: “My beloved creatures, My aim in creating The Best Of All Possible Worlds was to be perfectly fair and guarantee you happiness. However, even gods, it seems, must live and learn. Think over very carefully the ‘improvements’ you want Me to make. I will give them My most serious consideration.”

After a surprisingly short time, the Roundfolk returned with a scroll on which they had inscribed The Creatures’ Bill of Rights. It consisted of four basic demands:

• THE RIGHT TO REST FROM LEISURE • THE RIGHT TO BE DIFFERENT • THE RIGHT TO BE RESPONSIBLE • THE RIGHT TO FAIL

“The right to fail!” I gasped in astonishment.

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One of the Roundfolk rolled forward and said sympathetically, “There can be no success, Horgath, without the possibility of failure. And that applies to You, too.” “Then,” I said sorrowing, “My world is not finished. I shall have to go on creating it and peopling it over and over again.” “Ah, Horgath,” the Roundfolk cried ecstatically, “if only we could help you create the world and people it, how happy we would be. We would then feel our lives made a difference. We would feel that when we died we would be part of those who came after us, part of their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and tragedies. In this way, we would live in Happyland forever after all.”

“Promise Me,” I said, “that you will be patient a little while longer. I don’t want to rush My decision.” They solemnly promised, and I left Happyland, knowing that to the kind of self- reliant world they wanted I would never be able to return.

I could tell the Roundfolk were confident I would not fail them a second time. And they were given some indication of what I had in store for them when they saw the golden sun start to move in the sky and sink slowly westward over the Sea of Smiles.

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Learning to do

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