Midnight Moon (Vampire for Hire #13)(33)

"Creators?"

"Yes," I said.

"But don't all novelists create worlds?"

"They do," I said. "But not all are on the same level as Charlie Reed. Not all create the way he creates. Remember the word he chose, rather carefully, back in his office."

"Love," she said.

"He infuses his story with love. And I mean real love," I added. "Maximus thinks someone like Charlie might have spent years loving each and every character, years and years, before bringing them to the page."

"And so when he does finally write about them..."

"They are practically real, at least in his own mind."

"But that's just the thing, Sam. In his own mind. You just said it."

"According to Max, creation is a funny business. Manifestation is a funny business. We all have the ability to create and to manifest. Some of us just do it better than others. Some of us are more clear-minded and impassioned. And some of us inadvertently channel real life-force."

"Wait, Sam. Are you stating he's creating real life?"

"I am. And he is."

"But..."

"Think of it as the perfect confluence of talent, love and manifestation."

"But he's just a man. He's not a god."

But even as she stated that, she caught something else in my thoughts-and perhaps even something she was already aware of. I smiled, waited.

"But we are all God," she said.

"And if we are all fragments of God, even tiny, tiny fragments, wouldn't it stand to reason that some of us, perhaps in varying degrees and strengths, can access the God source within us? That some of us could, perhaps, perform miracles beyond comprehension?"

"But he doesn't even know he's performing them, Sam. He thinks his house is haunted, for crissakes!"

"Accidental creation might just be the most powerful creation of them all."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"Just came to me," I said, sipping on my mimosa. "I know from experience that trying too hard can screw something up."

"And maybe in Charlie's oblivion..."

"Creation is pouring through him unhindered."

"Unhindered?" she asked.

"It's a word," I said, "that I like to use from time to time."

"But why are you calling him a creator?"

"Whatever this original source entity is, wherever he came from and whatever he's trying to do, is invariably explored through more creation. More and more creation. We are such creations. And our creations are such creations. And onward and downward." 

"So, in effect, someone like Charlie is helping God, by creating more?"

"Yes. As do all of us. We're all creating and manifesting, both big and small."

"I'm hardly manifesting, Sam. And I can't think of a single thing I've created."

"Everything is creation, Allie. The cook is creating our meals. Someone created this table and chairs. City planners created Main Street. You have sculpted and created your body. You have created the look you are wearing now. Someone, somewhere designed and created the clothing you are wearing. All of life is creation, an ongoing, neverending flow of creation."

She blinked at me. Then blinked again. And kept on blinking until she finally said, "We're both crazy, you know that, right?"

"Life just might be crazier."

"So, we're all creators in our own little way. Fine. Then explain how any of this actually helps God."

"I don't know, Allie. But whoever or whatever he, she or it is has an unerring need to expand ever outward, out into infinity."

"Why?"

"If I had to guess-"

"And you do," said Allison, winking.

"I would think it is searching for itself."

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"I'm not sure I am either, Allie, but-and I believe this might be true-I was just recently told that even God doesn't know how big he is."

"And he wants to know?" asked Allie.

"Wouldn't you?"

"If I was God, who the hell knows. Wait, so you're saying that me putting my hair into a ponytail helps him to somehow expand into this unknowable place? You know, since I created my hairstyle and all." She winked again.

I looked at her and thought about it. "Yes," I said. "In a small way, it does. In a small way, watching his own creations creating something of their own, helps him expand out, incrementally, into forever."

"I think we need to start drinking more, Sam."

"Maybe," I said.

"And our friend Charlie?"

"He's doing even more creating. Perhaps on par with hundreds of thousands of us, all rolled into one."

"But if he's doing all that creating..."