Mother, for lack of a better term, offers, “Let me attempt to explain the situation. Your father tends to be circumspect, which has served him well in the past, but you appear to be advanced enough for a direct explanation. We are the energy-based entities who implanted life in this world. You have matured as much as you can, and it is now time for you to be born.”

She leaned back with a smug smile on her face and a knowing nod to her husband.

Jake says, “So, you’re aliens!”

Mother groans, “No, you idiot. How could we be aliens if we are your parents? Besides, I wasn’t talking to you. Perhaps you could offer me a drink, young man.”

Father (I still have difficulty calling him that) apologizes, “I’m sorry, Jake. We’re under a deadline, and my wife is stressed. Would you please get her a single-malt scotch? These beverages are quite delicious, dear.”

Jake seems hurt, having been directly chastised by God, and dutifully pours an Oban scotch for Mother. She drinks it in one swig and asks whether he has anything with more character. He selects a 30-year-old Laphroaig, which she also tosses back in one gulp. The woman nods with approval, waves her empty glass at the barman, and attempts another explanation.

“We exist as cosmic waves, as will you, once you emerge. One end of my wave anchors in your sun. The other attaches to a star far from here. As you can see, we can also appear in solid form when we choose.”

Jake offers, “Is your other star Alpha Centauri?”

Mother grimaces and replies, “No. My other endpoint is in a galaxy millions of lightyears away.”

I’m thankful that I’ve remained silent but decide to reengage in the conversation.

“So, Father, what stars anchor your wave?”

He quickly answers, “Oh, only women are anchored. Men travel.”

I grumble, “typical,” and Mother snorts.

She says, “I like her. I hope that this works. You see, dear, women are anchored and interconnected while men freely and independently roam. Women’s purpose is to be the deep thinkers of the universe while men spread their seed to propagate our species.”

I complain, “Well, that doesn’t seem fair. Women are stuck at home while the men get to travel wherever they desire?”

Mother laughs, “Try not to think of it that way. There are billions of women in the universe and only a few million men. We would never be able to expand if men were anchored like women. Your father has over thirty-thousand children, while I only have two. Or, I will have two once you’re born.”

Father retorts, “And, men do not freely roam. The ends of my energy wave are connected to resonate along a single vector in the universe. I can’t move more than a thousand lightyears or so outside of that band.”

I ask, “So, you’re saying that you’re a giant loop?”

He laughs, “No, my wave exists in a straight line until it meets itself after traversing the universe.” He sees my confused expression and adds, “One of your poets, Rudyard Kipling, once wrote:

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the Earth!

“He was talking about how people's heritage is inconsequential compared to their character when they meet in battle. But I love that quote because east and west, although being opposite directions, do meet. A man traveling east will encounter a man traveling west if he travels far enough. This truism is the nature of globes. What you may not realize is that our universe is the surface of a four-dimensional globe. You will return to your origin if you travel fast enough in a straight line in any direction. Of course, you need to travel many millions of times the speed of light for this to occur. So, you see, my cosmic wave is a straight, unbending line that circumnavigates the universe.”

I do not see this, but I decide not to ask any stupid questions. Jake, however, happily obliges. “So, you’re saying that we really are, literally, God’s children?”

Father buries his face in his hands and moans, “For the millionth time, I am not God! And, no, you are not our child. Only she is.”

Well, that killed the conversation. We’re now sitting here, picking at our food while Jake begins to clear up.

Mother finally rescues us by saying, “Your father didn’t mean to insult you, Jake. Jeanette isn’t any more our daughter than you. She is just connected to our child while you are not.”

Well, that explanation doesn’t help at all, and Father seems to realize it. He states, “Forgive us. We keep forgetting that you don’t understand basic genetics. Let me try to explain sex and procreation to you.

“Men prepare planets circling the stars at women’s endpoints to support life. Then, once the conditions are right on a planet, men and women join to produce an embryo. It’s a process that can take millennia.”

Mother mutters, “I don’t recall it taking that long.” and I chuckle.

Father ignores us and continues, “Pure-energy, embryonic cells deep within the planet multiply throughout billions of years. As their numbers increase, their energy resonates with chemicals on the planetary surface and guides evolution, as you recognize it.

“Eventually, creatures with crenulated brains appear, causing the embryonic cells to differentiate so that the embryo grows in complexity as well as size. After sufficient beings with crenulated brains have lived, the baby is ready to be born, which is now for the Earth. As I initially explained, it is time for the Earth to awaken and for our child, who has been growing for billions of years, to emerge.”

I silently laugh as Jake asks what crenulated means and am grateful that he beat me to the question. I see condescension wash over our guests' faces and quickly add more queries to distract them. “What's so special about crenulated brains? What's so special about me? And, why are you both in such a rush to share all this with me?”

Mother explains that crenulated objects have an irregular, wavy shape. While most animals have smooth brains, most mammals' brains are crenulated. She claims that each brain's unique crenulation connects it to our planet's life force. She pauses when noticing our confused expressions, and Father takes over.

He holds up his smartphone and says, “Let’s try this. Imagine any creature with a brain is like a smartphone in airplane mode. The smartphone’s cameras, microphones, and speakers are like eyes, ears, and mouths. You can run all kinds of apps and store pictures and recordings on such a device, depending upon its memory capacity and processing power. But the only way to share anything in airplane mode is through the speakers and displays.

“This should align with your scientific understanding of how your brains work. But, what you have yet to discover is that the unique pattern of folds and ridges of every crenulated brain forms a sort of antenna. Our unborn child recognizes each antenna and continuously uploads and stores every thought, feeling, and experience of each being with a crenulated brain to unique places in its growing mind. This storage process is what causes her cells to form into the memory pathways that will eventually develop into consciousness.”

Jake is looking nervous but is trying to avoid asking another stupid question. Instead, I joke, “So, you’re telling me that everybody’s thoughts and dreams are automatically backed up to some sort of cosmic cloud server? Man, I wish I could access them. It sure would’ve made today’s test easier!”

Mother laughs, “While the analogy is crude, it is sufficiently accurate for this discussion. The answer to your second question is that you can somewhat access thoughts from our baby's mind, Jeanette. Your connection to our baby is part of the reason we have been searching for you. Jake, dear, would you please pour me another Scotch. These are really, quite delicious.”

Well, my mind is blown. I have to remind myself that this is all bullshit. These two con artists want something and are preying on the fundamental desire for feeling special that resides in us all. I will not be fooled by their stories but decide to determine where they are heading.

I sarcastically ask, “So, you’re telling me that ESP is real and that I am some sort of mind reader?”

Mother is busily accepting and tasting her new drink, so Father replies.

“Well, yes, ESP and mind reading are possible, but nearly everyone who claims to have those abilities is a fraud.”

Jake interrupts with another foolish question. “What about seances? Can we talk to the dead?”

Mother chokes on her drink as she replies, “Seances are complete bunk, Jake. Even you should realize that.”

Jake appears embarrassed again, and Father takes pity on him. He adds, “But, you are correct that interacting with dead people’s minds would be as possible as with those who are living if humans weren’t in airplane mode. The minds of every person, cat, dog, gerbil, cow, and every other creature with a crenulated brain which has ever lived is stored and accessible within our baby.”

Jake is flabbergasted again, but I’m not distracted by Father’s side story about speaking to the dead. Their con is about making me feel special, and I want to hear their pitch.

“Let me guess. You’re going to tell me that my ability to guess what people want to eat is true mind reading and that you can help me parlay my unique skills into fame and glory.”

Mother grumbles, “I still can’t believe that you’re wasting your abilities taking dinner orders.”

I am right! I knew it! These two scammers are trying to use me. They probably want to become my managers for some sort of Las Vegas dinner act. I realize that I’m angry, but not furious. They’re right that there could be a lot of money in this. I just have to be careful with my business dealings.

Father appears irritated and complains, “We don’t care about fame and glory. I already told you why we are here. We’re simply trying to get you to wake up!”

Father’s last comment pushed Jake over the edge, and he positively explodes with a rush of words.

“Don’t you understand, Jeannette? They’re talking about how everybody’s souls are resting in an ethereal place and that it is time for them to arise. They’re describing Heaven and the apocalypse! Father really is God, and he’s here to open the gates of Heaven and lead the worthy through! When he says that it is time to wake up and be reborn, he is talking about spirituality and the end of the world!”

Oh, Jake. Even I can’t save you from your nonsense this time. I decide to sit back and watch the fireworks.

The two strangers are staring at Jake in silence, and my bartender friend is beginning to recognize how foolish his outburst sounds. He looks down, mumbles something about being sorry, and begins wiping the counter for the thousandth time tonight.

Father finally says, “Jake, I keep telling you that I am not God and that everyone’s souls, as you call them, are already saved in our baby’s memory. We are not here to judge you. As I explained to Josh, I only make ‘em; I don’t grade ‘em.”

“Wait,” I said. “Who is Josh?”

Mother answers, “Oh, dear, you didn’t think you were unique, did you? Josh was another person with your abilities.”

Father adds, “Yes, Josh was the last person I met before you. I spent a considerable amount of time with him, as I did with Sid and Mo years earlier. Josh was a heck of a nice fellow, but the world wasn’t ready for him. I told him that I’d come back later, and here we are.

“You see, you’re right about one thing, Jake. The world is ending, and it is up to Jeanette to either open up the gates of Heaven, as you put it, or the minds and memories of everyone who has ever existed will slip into oblivion.”

OK, I did not see that coming. I am suddenly filled with questions, but the only one that passes my lips is, “And, when will the world end?”

Mother replies, “In about five hours, dear. So, we need you to hurry.”