In a white-colored room, a single bed across that bed, was a chair, and a table. The room, though eerily white, gave a sense of comfort. Like what a baby may feel in a mother's loving embrace.
On a bed was a man, seemingly uncaring of the changed environment and absurdly bright white light.
Sitting in the chair was an Old Man, calmly sipping his coffee and reading a book.
The only sound that can be heard in this room is the soft breathing of a man, an occasional soft sip, the sound of a cup being placed on a small plate, and the turning of a page of a seemingly undending book.
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Time passed, and The Old Man noticed that the man was awake and was merely pretending to be sleeping. A while back, might he add?
The Old Man chuckled softly and said "I know you're awake Victor"
Victor clearly surprised—no, not clearly, apparently surprised. He jolted from his spot, stood up in his bed, his back touching the wall behind him, grabbed his pillow, and used it as a weapon.
Then he said with a threat, "I don't care if I'm either really f*cking high or I've been kidnapped, old man, but I've got a pillow, and I'm not afraid to use it!"
The Old Man cackled, "Please don't threaten these old bones of mine, young man; as you can see, I'm but a harmless old man." The Old Man said with his arms raised in a mock surrender.
Victor clearly unconvinced, proceeded to do something that even surprised The Old Man; he dropped his pillow, looked behind him, placed both his palms on the wall, and, with his frame facing the wall, tilted his head
backward. Closed his eyes.
Then he bashed his head against the wall.
Victor, peeking with one eye, was then flabbergasted; he expected the bash to at least hurt him. He touched the wall again and confirmed that it was indeed real, then he bashed his head.
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.
Touching and bashing.
This act continued on for who knows how long, but The Old Man, uncaring, went back to sipping his coffee and reading his book.
At some point, Victor tried punching himself, but as expected, it didn't hurt. He then looked at The Old Man accusingly.
"What kind of drugs did you give me, dude?"
The Old Man amused and decided to play along, "The strongest kind, young one."
Letting out a defeated sigh Victor asked, "Alright, you win, so what first? Legs? Wait, legs?" Victor paused and looked down; there he saw what he described one time as his "amazingly glorious legs."
Something in Victor's mind clicked; he then looked around. 'White walls, white bed, white table, white chair, white book, white pillow, and white clothes' he thought. He then looked at The Old Man and said, "Are you God?"
The Old Man done with reading, calmly set aside his book, sipped a bit of his coffee, and said, "A god, young man."
Victor confusedly said, "A god?" Highlighting the letter A.
"Yes, A god," nodded The Old Man.
"So you aren't the big, I guess, good god; who let's children starve and babies die?" Victor courageously asked.
The Old Man looked at Victor; he stared, unmoving and uncaring.
Victor, clearly squirming from his spot, tried to change the topic "How's the weather-" but was suddenly interrupted by a loud and boisterous laugh.
The Old Man laughed. And laughed. Seconds passed as he wiped a tear from his eye.
The Old Man lightly coughed as he straightened himself and tried to collect his calm. "Sorry for the outburst, young Victor, but that joke was quite the unexpected one."
'But that wasn't a joke, though,' Victor thought.
"I'll take it as a joke," quipped The Old Man.
"You can read my mind?" asked Victor, shock written on his face.
"Of course, since you're in my humble abode," The Old Man calmly stated as he sipped his coffee.
"It's very humble; you're right about that old man," retorted Victor.
"TOM," The Old Man, now TOM said.
"TOM?" Victor asked.
"TOM" nodded TOM.
"You're a TOM? You don't look like one though. You look more like a Gandalf than TOM." At Victor's question, TOM merely shrugged.
Victor then added, "Well, if you're TOM, where's JERRY then?"
Instead of answering Victor's unending questions, TOM raised his hand to his side and swiped downwards, as if cutting the air. Then, as TOM's "move" ended, a portal appeared.
"JERRY's there, young one." TOM then pointed at the portal, making Victor curious.
Victor, clearly oblivious to the hidden danger, is now slowly approaching the portal while taking note of its appearance. He thought, 'Roughly 2 feet and a half in length and a foot wide, no straight lines nor vertices, like an egg. Wait vertices? Huh didn't expect to use that word in a long while.'
Now, besides TOM.
Victor asked, "Now what?"
"Put your head inside it," TOM coaxed.
Victor, with skepticism written on his face, decided to do exactly that, not before thinking, 'What the hell, I've already died; what's the worst thing that will happen, right? '
Then Victor proceeded to put his head on the portal, where he felt, saw, and lived through the lives of every sentient creature. Feelings ranging from ecstasy, joy, and pleasure to grief, sorrow, and misery.
All that is to feel, he felt it all.
All that is to experience, he lived it all.
He experienced multiple lives. Due to the sheer number of memories he took, he only had glimpses, though he knows he still lived a humble life of a baker, an ancient Roman soldier, a kamikaze pilot, and a quack doctor advising a critically ill patient.
Victor experienced a prostitute's life earning only a meager wage, as a mother of four beautiful children, and as an idol singing on stage.
Interestingly, he "lived" as JERRY the mouse, constantly playing with Tom the cat.
As a mosquito sucking on a camper while she was visiting dreamland.
As a mighty T-Rex with cute, tiny arms.
His mind, now forcefully crammed with memories, now aches. He collapsed on the ground, clutching his head and while writhing with pain.
TOM watched as Victor was now lying on the floor, twitching, and often times hearing profanities coming out of his mouth.
Before long, TOM snapped his fingers. Then, like a reset, Victor, now sprawled on the floor, lifted his head. With the pain gone, he then gave TOM the middle finger.
"Yeah, 'JERRY' was there alright, and a ton—I MEAN A LITERAL TON OF SH*T WAS THERE TOO!" He screamed, as he was practically hysterical at this point.
"Curiosity killed the cat," said TOM sagely while he took a sip of his coffee.
"I WAS A CAT!" snapped Victor.
Breathing heavily and forcing himself to calm down, Victor sat up, looked at TOM vigilantly, and asked, "What are you a god of?"
TOM raised his eyebrow, impressed by the tenacious mind of the man in front of him. "What made you come to that conclusion?"
"The glimpses," said Victor. "I saw, or I guess 'lived' the life of a Japanese man, a stressed-out teacher, a college student, and a degenerate f*cking man." Victor spat the last one vehemently.
TOM, sipping his coffee, opted for Victor to continue his tale. Clearly amused, as he is seen grinning as he drinks.
"Countless lives 'wished' for this exact scenario: dying and a random omnipotent being appearing in front of them," Victor said. "But I guess you aren't a run-of-the mill being, since you casually did that sh*t before."
"Right, you are Victor," TOM agreed with a raise of his cup.
Victor was slightly bothered by the fact that the being in front of him casually agreed.
"The name's TOM, not THE BEING Victor," TOM said interrupting Victor's thoughts.
"Alright, TOM" Victor said, rolling his eyes. "What are you a god of? And since you 'summoned' me in this room, what do you want?"
TOM cackled and with a shrug then said, "As of now? I focus mostly on entertainment and amusement, though eons before, both Chaos and Order." With a smug look, TOM continued, "For your second question, I'd like to hire you for a job, an interesting one, might I add?"