These are the generations of Noah, whose second son Shem begat Arphaxad, who begat Salah, who begat Eber, who begat Peleg, who begat Reu, who begat Serug, who begat Nahor, who begat Terah, who begat Abram. Diversity was well pleased with the sons of Noah, for as time passed, they worshipped more and more diverse gods—that is, until Abram got it into this head that there was one god, and only one god, whom he called “God,” and that it was God, and not she, who had created the world, and the wondrous diversity contained therein, and so she told Abram, then seventy-five years old, to venture out from the land of his father, and his father’s father, to a new land she would show him.
To which Abram responded, “Who the hell are you?”
From his response, Diversity knew that Abram had inhaled the spirit of Bias, her first issue, and that Bias had colored Abram’s expectations of what God sounded like. Thus, she lowered her voice several octaves and said to Abram, “I will make you into a great nation and bless you; I will make your name great, and I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on the earth will be blessed through you.”
This sounded like a good deal to Abram, so he told his wife Sarai of the move, but she was filled with doubt. Abram insisted however, explaining that it was God’s will that they go, and “Such a voice that guy’s got!” Thus, he took Sarai, his nephew Lot, and their families and their possessions, and they settled in that new land, and Diversity was glad to be rid of Abram, for he would not shut up about the one true god, which struck her as crazy talk, and, even worse, not inclusive. Yet she was also intrigued by him, for in truth he seemed more devoted to God, sight unseen, than any creature she had ever made was to her—yea, even to the point that when at last God spoke directly to him, Abram willingly circumcised himself as a sign of his faith. Whereas when Diversity asked Abram’s father Terah to do what his son had done, Terah turned pale and vomited, and the penis to which he was joined said, “Are you freaking kidding me? Whose idea was that? Oh, hell no! No way, not going to happen. Sorry, Quint, you’re going to need a bigger nope. That’s not part of the deal.”
Diversity realized at that moment that to worship her was to worship many, yet to worship many was to hold none special, and she was much aggrieved by that realization, and so it came to pass that the least diverse of her creatures became the dearest in Diversity’s sight. She checked in on him dawn and dusk, observing his comings and goings, fascinated by the turn of his mind, by his questioning nature, by the way he transitioned from Abram to Abraham, and Sarai transitioned to Sarah.
But Diversity was not alone in her preoccupation with Abraham, for Bias too observed how dear Abraham had become in her eyes, and he was reminded of how she had preferred the first man and first woman to him, her first born, and his soul seethed with hatred for Abraham and his tribe. So Bias assumed the form of a man and clothed himself in rags, and he visited Abraham, who knew Bias not for who and what he was but only as a poor stranger. He and Sarah welcomed Bias into their tent, and they fed him as well as they could, and gave him curds and milk, but as soon as Sarah left the room, Bias turned to Abraham said unto him, “You’re not reallygoing to hit that, are you?”
“God has promised to make me a great and powerful nation,” Abraham said.
“Seriously?” Bias said, “I mean, to each his own. But come on! She’s got to be ninety years old!”
“But the Lord promised—”
“Then maybe the Lord should have struck you blind first. I hear he’s good at that. Or at least given you a couple of bags because that’s a classic two-bagger you’ve got there.”
“But she is my beloved.”
“Yes, yes, we love them all,” Bias said. “But dude!”
Abraham, however, would not be persuaded, so Bias flung up his arms and stormed out of the tent.