inevitable

Inevitable

    She came to me in a tizzy. I reminded her that the Lord once came in a whirlwind, but never, never in a tizzy. You see? Even a servant of the Lord can have a sense of humor.
    "Don't you understand?" she gasped. "If we don't do something, we're all going to die!"
    You see? Even freethinkers can lack a sense of humor. Or especially freethinkers, perhaps.
    "Of course, we're all going to die, Dodie," I responded calmly. "It's the way of all flesh."
    "Yeah, but not immediately," she retorted. "Those awful ... demons, or whatever they are ... We can fight back, you know!"
    I sighed. "There's not a thing we can do," I explained. "It's the Divine Will. All of this has been prophesied in the Divine Chronicles."
    "The ... heck, you say!" she snapped. "Where in the Chronicles does it mention this?"
    "You know," I said patiently, "'And there shall be a mighty ruckus, and a hellatious brouhaha, and great will be the suffering, and many shall die, I should imagine.'"
    "Poppycock!" she blasphemed. "That's so nebulous, it could mean anything."
    "But it means this," I replied, spanning the tortured landscape with a broad gesture.
    "Double poppycock!" swore Dodie. "They just walk right up to us and bop us on the head, and we don't do a damn thing!"
    "Language," I chided.
    "First of all, we can simply stay away from them," she continued. "We know the land better than they do. They just landed, for Pete's sake!"
    I shook my head. "There's nothing we can do. For the Divine Chronicles say, 'You can't run, and you can't hide.'"
    "Why not?" she said argumentatively. "You see, running is another good tactic. I think we're a lot faster than those clumsy creeps. It's just that they have clubs. And opposable thumbs."
    I shook my head. "It wouldn't help. You can't beat prophecy."
    "Prophecy shmofecy!" she snapped. "Here's another suggestion: How about a good, swift kick in the knee cap? We have pretty powerful legs, and they look vulnerable there."
    "You don't get it," I sighed. "This is destiny. Repent now, for it is the faithless that have brought this tragedy upon us."
    "So, if everyone believes like you do, this mass kill-off wouldn't be happening?"
    "Correct," I said.
    "But I thought you said it was inevitable," she quibbled. "If we can change the outcome by our behavior, then it isn't inevitable."
    "But the faithless will not repent," I explained. "The Lord knew that."
    "If He knows everything in advance, then no one can change anything," she countered. "So no one can repent, and nothing is anyone's fault."
    "You could repent," I explained, "but you won't."
    "That's ridiculous," she said. There is no explaining Divine Mystery to some birds.
    "Some day," I said, "our name shall be a synonym for great piety."
    "Great stupidity, more like," she scoffed.
    "But the Divine Chronicles say that the Great Dodo will come for the faithful at the end. The faithul, that is." I gave her a pointed look. "And this is the end, as it has been prophesied. It is an end greatly to be wished."
    I believe she called me a lunatic, but one of those smelly, two-legged demons was approaching with a club, and I was suffused with the love of the Great Dodo.

The last dodo died in the early 1680s. Whether the Great Dodo returned for His faithful is not recorded.