“I think the Universe is in pretty good hands…”
The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams.
“Do you rule the Universe?”
“I try not to”
—
“Are you wet?”
“Wet? ... Doesn’t it look as if we’re wet?”
“That’s how it looks to me,” said the man, “but how you feel about it might be an altogether different matter. If you feel warmth makes you dry, you’d better come in.”
—
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t know. Why, do you think I should have one? It seems very odd to give a bundle of vague sensory perceptions a name.”
—
“I must ask you some questions.”
“Alright,” said the man kindly, “you can sing to my cat if you like.”
“Would he like that?” asked Zaphod.
“You’d better ask him,” said the man.
“Does he talk?” said Zaphod.
“I have no memory of him talking,” said the man, “but I am very unreliable.”
—
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Ah,” said the man, “this is a question about the past is it?”
“Yes,”
“How can I tell,” said the man, “that the past isn’t a fiction designed to account for the discrepancy between my immediate physical sensations and my state of mind?”
“So you answer all questions like this?”
“I say what it occurs to me to say when I think I hear people say things. More I cannot say.”
—
“People come to you do they? …”
“I think so”
“And they ask you, ... to take decisions for them? About people’s lives, about worlds, about economies, about wars, about everything going on out there in the Universe?”
“Out there?” said the man, “out where?”
“Out there!” ... pointing at the door.
“How can you tell there’s anything out there,” said the man politely, “the door’s closed.”
—
“But you know there’s a whole Universe out there! ... You can’t dodge your responsibilities by saying they don’t exist!”
“You’re very sure of your facts,” he said at last, “I couldn’t trust the thinking of a man who takes the Universe – if there is one – for granted. I only decide about my Universe. My Universe is my eyes and my ears. Anything else is hearsay.”
—
“But don’t you believe in anything?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,”
“You don’t understand that what you decide in this shack of yours affects the lives and fates of millions of people? This is all monstrously wrong!”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met all these people you speak of. And neither, I suspect, have you. They only exist in words we hear. It is folly to say you know what is happening to other people. Only they know, if they exist. They have their own Universes of their own eyes and ears.”
—
“But don’t you understand that people live or die on your word?”
“It’s nothing to do with me, I am not involved with people. The Lord knows I am not a cruel man.”
“Ah! ... you say `The Lord’. You believe in something!”
“My cat,” said the man benignly, picking it up and stroking it, “I call him The Lord. I am kind to him.”
“Alright, How do you know he exists? How do you know he knows you to be kind, or enjoys what he thinks of as your kindness?”
“I don’t,” said the man with a smile, “I have no idea. It merely pleases me to behave in a certain way to what appears to be a cat. Do you behave any differently?”