- a short story by M. Johnson
So you get what appears to be a Christmas card. This is strange because you don't know anyone who's a Christian, or even anyone who bothers with the holidays. You open the envelope, and it is indeed a Christmas card.
There's a typical card scene, with some wise men, and up above them, in a deep blue sky, are sprinkled a generous throw of stars. One of them is especially bright. It of course is the star of Bethlehem. I'm sure you've all seen the card.
You go to open the card, but then it suddenly hits you. "Oh no," you think to yourself. "Don't tell me someone's converted. Please don't let it be one of my friends... at least not anyone I like, not anyone I hang out with." It couldn't be. It would be terrible. You haven't got so many friends you can afford to lose one.
But you don't want to think about it, so you open the card. It's not the typical card. There's no fancy lettering, no cheery angels pretending to blow trumpets. All that's there is a single block quote.
"The universe has no purpose and no plan, and since a hundred suns explode every year in our galaxy, at this very moment some race is dying in the depths of space. Whether that race has done good or evil during its lifetime will make no difference in the end: there is no divine justice, for there is no God."
The card is signed, yours truly, Arthur C. Clarke
The End
Notes;
1. The quote is taken from 'The Star' - by Arthur C. Clarke
2. Written by M. Johnson [frfarer-at-Gmail.com] 12/22/09
