in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth. the earth, largely undeveloped, was considered prime real estate among investors. silence reigned and there was darkness over the face of the deep. the spirit of god hovered above the waters. then god said, “let there be single-family detached homes”, and thus they were. god saw the homes; he saw that they were good. god divided the single-family detached homes from the condominiums starting in the 400s; and so financing for a thirty-year mortgage with as little as 6% down payment was the first day.

    then god said, “let there be a firmament in the midst of these deceptively affordable living spaces, and let it divide the homes from the other homes, so that sedans and suvs and school buses can reach said homes”. thus god made sleek asphalt roads dashed with thick yellow lines. so ended the second day.

    on the third day god met with investors to review advertising material aimed at young families looking to own their own home. “let the radio ads be dialogic” god said. “also, put a big sign on the highway.” god heard the radio ads and saw the big sign, lowered in place by an even bigger crane; he saw that it was good. so ended the third day.

    on the fourth day, god deflected inquiries from city planners over email. god loitered on the showroom floor, watched blazered interns point at models with sticks, say numbers, shake hands. god brought in trucks leadened with sod like giant grassy cinnabons- watched dusty men roll them out into cinnalawns. god saw it all unfolding; he saw that it was good. thus ended the fourth day.

    god woke up late on the fifth day, slept through his alarm. “fuck”, said god. he made up for it by buying everyone cinnabons for lunch. the cinnabons were good. god didn’t have one, but saw that they were good. god showed prospective homeowners the remote controlled fireplace on a third floor unit. gazing out the window- across the tracts of land, the finished homes, the home-shaped craters- it occurred to god that there was something missing. god stared at his hands, looked up, saw the distant spires of the city peeking over the hills, felt like a satellite fringing the solar system, then- after a period of time- the universe. “heated floors” god thought. thus ended the fifth day.

    on the sixth day the homes sold out. the interns and god popped champagne, turned away customers with sympathetic grins. everyone left. god sat in his 2007 kia sorrento, watched fathers and mothers, young couples and children come home, draw blinds, (presumably) eat dinner. god sat parked in the driveway of a showhome, sat until the street lamps flickered on.

    on the seventh day god had coffee and a bagel for breakfast, redeemed log-in rewards for three separate mobile games, showered at the local gym. later, while driving, god experienced a rare moment of self-assurance- like his life was unfolding exactly as it should, in a predetermined, universe-guided way- followed by an instinctive glance towards the rearview mirror. at a rest stop somewhere, god scrolled through the news on his phone, checked his bank account balance, saw that it was good.