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Divine Recursion


Bob took a deep breath and dialed the number. "You only get to call once, Bob, so don't blow it," he muttered, trying to keep the shudder out of his voice. He brought the receiver to his ear and sweated for what seemed an eternity waiting for the line to connect.

Finally, he heard the other end ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.

"Hello, Bob," a deep, rich voice said. "What can I do for you?"

Bob swallowed hard. "Uh...um...Is this really God?"

"Yes, it really is. Now get to the point, Bob, I'm a very busy deity." There was just the slightest hint of irony in God's voice.

"Well...uh....You see, I just wanted to know, uh, what's the meaning of... uh... you know... life."

"The Answer," intoned God over the phone, "is the Question, and the Question is the Answer."

"Er," began Bob, sorely perplexed, "Er, how so?"

"Well, Bob, I've been around for a long time. A really, really amazingly huge amount of time. So long that even I do not remember my own origin, or whether I even have one. Because of this, I have spent countless eternities pondering my own purpose in life. I could never come up with a satisfactory reason for my own existence, and I have therefore concluded that I cannot find such an answer due to my paradoxical nature. So I created the Universe and all of the Life in it to find out the answer for me. Do you understand now, Bob?"

"Eh," Bob replied, hoping he didn't appear too dim in the eyes of God. "Not quite," he said.

God gave forth a truly cosmic sigh. "It is my hope, Bob, that somewhere within Life's infinite diversity in infinite combinations there will arise a final, conclusive solution to the meaning to it all."

"Uh," spake Bob, "could you maybe put it in, uh, simpler terms?"

Again, God sighed. "I'll put it as simply as possible for you, Bob: The Meaning of Life is to discover the Meaning of Life."

"But," Bob sputtered, "but that's recursive - it keeps addressing itself in its own definition! How will we ever know when we've found it?"

"I'm sorry, Bob, but your two minutes are up."

Click.


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I must down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky, and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. -- John Masefield, `Sea Fever'

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