For the past five years, I have worked for a mega-corporation in New York City. Everyday, I would get up at six o'clock, shower, dress, eat breakfast, and arrive at work by 8:30. Since I was assistant director manager, I was given the tasks that the manager didn't want to handle, but that I was capable enough of handling. That was, at least, how they decided to whitewash it. The clerks of our main distributor stores could probably handle what I'm in charge of. I was once commissioned with determining how much consumers pay on a 5 percent sales tax on our products. The directors of the board had decided that they wanted to know what the burden of sales tax was on those who purchased our products. I thought of suggesting, "Maybe the burden is 5 percent?" but anyone who even insinuates that the board of directors is a bunch of fools is immediately fired. For over 2,000 products, I did division. If that's not as easy as asking "Hi, welcome to Walmart," then my pay being five times higher than a clerk is justified. Engaging in the most inane work sometimes, at around 10:00, I would lose complete faith in myself as a human being and break down. I would roll a die, and if it came out to one, I would walk out my office window. Otherwise, I would take a stroll to the nearest water bubbler and have a drink. And, as always, the die would come out to something above one... even if there were only one dot on it.
"Hey, Bob," my friend Jeff would greet me, as we met at the water cooler.
"I see you remember the meeting place," I said, as I filled up the golden paper cup with a 100-year-old wine/water.
"It is ten o'clock," he said checking his watch, "But, why here? Aren't you on the 34th floor?"
"Well, yeah," I said, nodding.
"This water cooler is on the 12th floor," he said.
"What's your point?" I asked.
"Well, the point of a meeting place, is that it is not that far away."
"That's not the point of this meeting place," I said, "I meet here with you so I can escape my annoying job. If that fat head asks me how many times five goes into one hundred one more time, I'm gonna..." In a fit of rage, I crushed the paper cup.
"I know what you mean," Jeff said, taking another swig, "When my boss goes to the bathroom, I go into his office and break the lead on each of his pencils."
"Doesn't he just make you re-sharpen them since you're his assistant?"
"Well, there are a lot of technical aspects of the method and process of revolution," he said, "But, I think I'm making a change."
"Ah, well," I said, throwing my paper cup into a waste basket, and missing like the other five who tried, "I'm gonna head back up. I am so plastered on water right now... at least it will provide a reason for going to the 57th floor for taking a piss."
"Later, homes," Jeff said, going back to his office.
11:15 would roll around, and I would be heading off to lunch, fifteen minutes early, just like I would be returning, fifteen minutes late.
So, sure, maybe I wasn't the best company employee. Maybe I was never nominated for employee of the month. Maybe a loss in the stock didn't really bother me. Maybe the fact that I dumped my old coffee into the radiator never kept me from sleeping. It's true. I'm not denying it. But, there would be a corporate decision that would throw me into the midst of a conflict I could not see coming. "Production is down in our Indonesian factories," one of the directors would inform me, "We want you to go there and see what's preventing their work."
"By how far is it down?" I asked.
"Here's the papers detailing what we know," he said, handing me a folder, "What we don't know, though, you are going to find out." I always liked it when the corporation pretended that I was important.
I started to flip through some of the papers in the folder as the senior executive was about to leave, but then something caught my attention. "Excuse me, sir," I said, "We deployed capital in this region only a month ago?"
He looked to me as he stood in the doorway, "Yeah. The population there was far more than necessary to meet the demands of production."
"But production is 90 percent lower than what you expected?" I asked, "Do you know why?"
"No, we don't," he said, "But you'll find out." And with that he left. The next morning, I boarded a plane to Indonesia, to investigate personally what it was that was limiting the productivity of these people. I arrived in the town, and fortunately, there was a town meeting. Here, I thought, I would be able to investigate the matter wholly.
"Praise be the book," the speaker said, "For without its vision, we would be lost, without its light, we would be blind, without its strength, we would be weak. Praise the book!" A flurry of hands went up.
"Excuse me," I said, raising my hand amidst the crowd, as the speaker looked to me, "My name is Robert Von Houir. I am from the corporation that has established the factory in the middle of this town. I am here to investigate why productivity is down. Can anyone help me understand?"
"Ah, you are the one to profane our wholly lands with that abomination," the speaker said to me, "My name is Johak, holy defender of the book."
"The book?" I asked.
"Yes, the book gives us life," he replied, "And it is the book which calls me to denounce you as a heretic, guilty of blasphemy and deserving of the punishment of death."
"What is the book?" I asked.
"As you can tell," he began, "We are a small community. Several hundred years ago, a miner discovered an ancient text deep within one of the iron mines here. The text spoke of truth and morality. It is from these words that we founded are lifestyles."
"Well, what does the book state?" I asked.
"The first principle," he began, "All labor beyond what is necessary to feed yourself is immoral. It shall not be tolerated, but responded to with vigor and strength."
"But," I started, "When your respond to such a crime, are you not engaging in labor itself?"
"Aaaahhhh," the speaker began, "You are quite right. Since this book's history is somewhat old, we have had all sorts of questions asked of our faith and us. But, we have developed a branch of learning which defends the faith from these inquiries, offering reasonable and perfect arguments."
"So, when a man stops another from overlaboring, is he not himself laboring?"
"He is not laboring," the speaker said, "Because, when a man stops another from overlaboring, he does not commit earthly labor, but spiritual duty. So, you see, the book is still right."
"That's just a play on words," I said, "What if a prophet said, 'it is impossible to eat bread,' and someone eats bread. Would you say that when the person ate the bread, he didn't really eat it but talked to it, just so that the prophet remains out of contradiction?"
"No, because that prophet is obviously wrong," Johak said.
"And then you know how I feel about you and your book," I replied, "You are simply changing around words to justify belief in it. It its original meaning, it is still wrong."
"You cannot understand it properly," he replied, "You do not believe it, so you cannot know."
"That's not true at all," I said, "I don't believe the world is flat; does that mean I am incapable of judging the world to be flat?"
"Yes," Johak replied.
"I'm sorry," I said, in a bit of confusion, "That was a reasonable argument, that you just responded to with ignorance. So, if someone were to say that the book is wrong, while believing it, they would be correct?"
"Nobody can believe the book and think it is wrong," he replied, "It is an impossibility."
"But, by your reasoning, only by belief can judgment come," I said, "The opposite is true in fact. Before you can believe something, you must judge it. At least, that is the method for someone of reasonable and logical degrees... just what is wrong with laboring for yourself?"
"The book forbids it," Johak said.
"I don't doubt that," I replied, "By why does the book say it is wrong?"
"Because it is wrong," Johak said.
"You're going in circles," I said, "You believe the book says it is wrong because it is wrong, but you only know it is wrong, because the book said it was wrong."
"Well, you must take into consideration that, those who disbelieve will be met with eternal misery and suffering."
"So, you worship something out of the fear of death?" I asked, "It's not about evidence, but about fear?"
"Fear constitutes one part of the books elements," he said, "Besides that, there is love and caring."
"That's a lie," I said, "You're in love with the thing which threatens you with eternal suffering?"
"Well, yes," he said.
"That makes no sense," I said, "If the book said slavery was okay, would you believe it?"
"The book doesn't say that."
"I know, but what if it did?"
"It wouldn't ever say that, because the author of it was just and humane."
"I understand that," I said, "But what if the book said that slavery was okay?"
"Then I would not believe it," he said, "But-it-doesn't-say-that-so-it-is-okay-to-believe-it!"
"But it does say laboring for more than you need is wrong," I replied, "And when someone must be stopped creating food, when that food might go towards ending starvation, because your book says it is wrong, well... that is a real atrocity there. Preventing those who desire to end starvation."
"The book says it is immoral, so it must be immoral," he replied.
"And the book is unfounded," I replied. I grew disheartened, as he reached at anything to prove his case. He would admit to any absurdity, to any ridiculous statement, as long as it supported "the book." I couldn't quite understand it all. He seemed that everything did not determine the truth of the book, such as the contradictions we found in natural history, or the contradictions that existed in its reasoning, or its inconsistency with morals. But rather, he used the book to examine everything else. Something was immoral because the book said so. Something was false because the book said so. If something counter acted the book, he replied with stating that it was actually an evil force trying to convince minds to believe besides the book, so that they would end up suffering eternally. If I presented evidence against the book, he would use the book as evidence that my proofs were wrong. And so, I did grow disheartened. I retired to my hotel room, after the rather exhaustive debate, and turned on the movie channel. "Planet of the Apes," was on, and so I tuned in and watched, as I heard one of the characters speak... "And god created ape in his own image."
(Not trying to offend anyone; just a parody of a few conversations I have had with believers.)