He Who Visits does not believe there is such a thing as too much truth at once. “Sniper’s bullet pierced this skull, destroyed this brain, and killed this body, whereupon I reverted to existing only in My universe, post quem this body was resurrected by a miracle worked by This Universe’s Maker through His agent, a child narratively resembling Asclepius here known as Bridger, whereupon My consciousness returned, both to this flesh and to this universe.”

The heartiest of the sensayers still took some seconds to process and recover. “Your universe?”

“The one I generate, sustain, and Am. It differs greatly from this one. I agree with your Maimonides that divine things are often more easily defined by what they are not than by what they are. My universe does not have time, space, limit, ignorance, discovery, exploration, hope, solitude, or death.”

Fear dashed among their glances, and a few hands wriggled as scholarly instinct drove them to bring Maimonides’s works up on their lenses. In saner days they might have slipped into debating Crescas and the old scholastics: Anselm, Abelard, Duns Scotus, medieval questions alive and evergreen. No time now. “You have a private universe?”

“Not private. There are many beings there. But I am its sole Author, so it is Mine. I am a God, and, there, I am the only God, omnipotent and all-creating. Your own Creator, the Maker of this universe, is My Peer. He made this flesh so that I might visit His universe and here perceive His works. It is a dialogue between Us. During My visit I have experienced some forms of human suffering, so I sympathize with what you endure for Our dialectic, but I know no other way for Us to communicate.”

In my wayward childhood I read as many forbidden things as I could lay my growing hands on, including Geneva Mardi’s sensayer training books. There are several formulae for handling a parishioner who says he is God, or who says he is a god, but none for one who claims to be another God. I wish there were more people in this world whose answers I could trust when I ask if they believe Him.

“Why are you having this dialogue with our Creator?” one sensayer asked, definitely not any formula’s next question.