(Another episode in our ongoing series of off‑planet adventures, now with 100% more theological irreverence.)

Scene: The garden of the Melbourne house. Sunday morning. Sunshine. A yellow Labrador sleeps at the feet of a wooden bench. SERA is sitting on the bench, holding a cup of tea. ORIN is not pacing, not holding a tablet, clearly not agitated about something he has just read.

Sera: (sipping her tea) Orin, you’re going to wear a path in the grass.

Orin: (stopping, pointing at his tablet) Do you know what they’ve done?

Sera: (calmly) What have they done now?

Orin: They’ve rewritten the holy books. Again. And they’ve added a new chapter about “divine right.” Apparently, I handed out divine right to a bunch of people I’ve never even met.

Sera: (setting down her tea) Did you?

Orin: (indignant) No! I’ve never handed out divine right to anyone. I don’t even have a franchise. If I had a franchise, I’d have a loyalty card.

Sera: (smiling) A loyalty card?

Orin: (gesturing vaguely) Yes. “Buy nine divine rights, get the tenth free.” Something like that. But I don’t have one. So where are they getting this?

Sera: (patting the bench beside her) Orin. Sit down.

Orin: (sitting reluctantly) I’m just saying. They keep attributing things to me that I never said. I never said “thou shalt not.” I never said “I am a jealous God.” I never said any of it.

Sera: (gently) I know, my love.

Orin: (leaning forward) And now they’re rewriting the holy books again. They’re going to add “This time, we really mean it.”

Sera: (laughing) Orin!

Orin: (grinning) I’m serious! They’ve been doing this for millennia. “We misunderstood the last one. This one’s definitely the real one.” And then they kill each other over the differences.

Sera: (taking his hand) That is rather the pattern, isn’t it?

Orin: (sighing) I just… I never wanted to be a God. I never wanted to be worshipped. I just wanted to find my wife and plant cabbages.

Sera: (kissing his cheek) And you did.

Orin: (looking at her) I did.

Sera: (smiling) So let them rewrite their holy books. Let them argue about divine right. Let them do whatever they want.

Orin: (suspiciously) Why?

Sera: (standing, pulling him to his feet) Because we have cabbages to plant. And a dog to walk. And a typewriter to use.

Orin: (following her) But what about the divine right?

Sera: (calling over her shoulder) You don’t have a franchise, remember?

Orin: (stopping) Right. No franchise.

Sera: (turning, smiling) No franchise.

Orin: (grinning) No loyalty card.

Sera: (taking his hand) No loyalty card.

Orin: (walking with her) So… we just ignore them?

Sera: (squeezing his hand) We just ignore them. And we plant cabbages. And we laugh. And we love.

Orin: (nodding) That sounds like a plan.

Sera: (kissing his cheek) It’s the only plan.

(They walk toward the garden. The dog follows. The sun shines. The cabbages are ready to be planted.)

Orin: (over his shoulder, to the universe) And for the record — I never said any of that divine right stuff.

(The universe does not respond. The cabbages do not care. And Sera laughs.)

(Curtain.)