in the soul factory, they are busy at work.
rows and rows of conveyor belts carry the entities
to and fro, in shiny tin test tubes
[so that the energy does not escape and mingle
with the rest, so that each soul remains separate;
energy disunited in contained individuality]
now and then, a tube falls on the floor,
but it does not break; it is safe
inside its tin shell.
the workers inject liquid ideas into the tubes
with tiny needles filled with
the essential substances for soul-making.
^
on the second floor, the white coated
scientists mix some of these substances:
faith, love, patience, morality and
truth come to the lab in bottles.
the white coated carefully fill up the tubes
to be inserted into the injection needles
for the workers back on the first floor.
they are careful not to spill such substances
on their white coats, for they stain dramatically.
..
the other group of scientists reside
in a sealed chamber on this floor.
they wear thick rubber gloves and gas masks.
they have one of the more hazardous
jobs at the factory. in their sealed lab
there are large vats of another kind of chemical.
they fill much larger injection needles with these:
fear, doubt, laziness, ignorance, suffering, and hate.
[they are specially qualified to deal with
such substances because they are considered
an essential part of soul making.]
^
on the third floor, the researchers are
creating new chemicals. ones, they say,
will make the souls even more versatile.
this is where they create wonderful diseases,
ones that will make the soul last
even longer once it has overcome them.
currently, they are working on a new kind of cancer.
^
on the fourth floor,
the advertisers are creating new campaigns.
they are the ones who write myths and sermons alike.
sometimes they create special kinds of souls
to inspire the others. they call them
saints and priests, prophets and artists.
but really, they are just tubes
full of chemical potential. if anything,
they are simply actors, playing out
their assigned roles.
^
on the top floor of the building
the ghost of god is writing the scripts
for these divine characters.
he swivels in his high-backed chair
in contemplation and occasionally
chews on his gold pen.
this does not hurt his teeth
because they are not real
and neither is he
or his leather swivel chair.
but he doesn't know this, and neither does mary,
his secretary, who calls over the intercom,
periodically, to notify him that somebody
is on the other line and they want to know
when jesus christ is supposed to return.
"tell them i'll get back to them"
the ghost god growls fiercly
and tosses a piece of crumpled paper
into the overflowing waste basket.
*
back on the second floor,
one of the new scientists
knocks over a bottle of truth.
it eats through the nonexistent floor
to the conveyor belt below.
the truth dissolves several tin tubes
which never existed in the first place
