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Introduction

My name is Aber Crumbi, and thank you for choosing this book! I hope it serves you well.
I’d also like to thank my family for their support—my beloved wife, Christen, and our two cute kids, Luke and Dale.

This is part story, part journal, documenting what I’ve been through shortly before and during my “godly reign”—if you could call it that.

I wrote this guide for other gods who might need a bit of advice. Gods who want to make their world a better place, a place they’d look at it and cry from joy. Gods who want to fix their collapsing, ignorant and powerlusting society.

Of course, what I did may not be suitable for you; as all the advice here is based on my errors and experience, and, well, my vision of a better world, and mine alone. I wish I knew other Gods and fill this book with some of their wisdom, but I don’t!

This is mostly a guideline for how I could’ve done things better if I had this book with me. My younger self- this is for you.

I know this might not reach anyone.

I’ll probably just store it in my house. Or upload it to cloud storage.

A literal cloud, by the way.

The rain holds data.

I’m a God—I can do what I want.

…

NAH, just kidding. I’m using normal network storage. [Though, I CAN do what I just said 🙂 and so can you!]

But hey, in the infinity of the multiverse, someone might still find this.

And on the off-chance that someone is you, well—I figured writing it couldn’t hurt.

So, I hope you enjoy, and get the most out of this guide!

Now let’s begin with Chapter 1:

YOU’RE A GOD! ACT THE PART!

I don’t really know what it takes to get a visit from Jim.

He’s the one who gave me this opportunity—Jim Ostrich. That’s his full name.

He looked about twenty-five, maybe thirty. Said he felt creative one day and just decided to drop by my dimension—paused my entire reality (except me), just moments before I was about to be swallowed by nuclear fallout.

And he looked… normal.

Black hair. Brown eyes. That blank but oddly attentive stare. Hoodie, jeans, black shoes.
The kind of guy you’d walk past without a second thought—unless you caught the smile he tried to hide. One of those quiet, knowing smiles. The kind I give Chimney, my friend, when we’re deep in a conversation that somehow peels your soul open.

Jim felt like a curious cat in human form.

He told me he came from a reality so alien, so incomprehensible, that just trying to explain it would quite literally burst my brain open.

And he didn’t want to do that.

So instead, he said he was from a Type-6 civilization and was running a small research project. I was to be his test subject.

For those of you who don’t know, there’s something called the Kardashev Scale—a way to measure a civilization’s technological advancement based on how much energy it can harness and control.

It was originally proposed by a guy named Nikolai Kardashev, and it’s kind of the closest thing we have to a cosmic measuring stick.

Type I civilizations can harness all the energy of their home planet. That means controlling weather, tapping into geothermal power, using solar energy efficiently, and probably not nuking themselves out of existence. Basically—complete planetary mastery.

My civilization? We were a Type 0.72.

Still burning fossil fuels. Still tangled in politics over wind farms. One good supervolcano eruption, and that’s it—we’re extinct. A true Type I would harness that same volcano like a power plant and call it progress.

Type II jumps a level. They can harvest the full energy output of their star—think Dyson Spheres and stellar engineering. You become the master of your solar system.

Type III goes galactic. You control energy at the scale of your entire galaxy. At that point, you’re not a civilization anymore—you’re a force of nature.

And that’s just the start. After that, things get theoretical—Type IV, V, and VI aren’t officially on the Kardashev scale, but people like to imagine.

A Type IV would control energy at the scale of the entire universe.

Type V would manipulate multiple universes—yes, plural.

And Type VI? That’s what Jim claimed to be. Something outside it all. Beyond dimensions. 

Beyond time. Able to rewrite the very code of existence like it’s a casual Tuesday.

And he picked me.

To run his little experiment.

So yeah… that’s where this all began.

According to Jim, countless worlds and universes had collapsed under the weight of ignorance, exploitation, and endless power games. And for whatever reason… he found me refreshing.

Or so he claimed.

Now, needless to say, I was panicking. A nuke had just gone off. The fallout was inches from my face.

And all I could think about was my mom. Her house was closer to the blast. She must’ve died before Jim even showed up.

I didn’t scream. Didn’t flinch. Just swallowed hard and stared back at him.

He liked that. Or at least, it seemed like he did.

Yes, yes—I know, you got a visit from Jim too. You don’t need me to narrate mine. But let’s be real: people love hearing others react to things they’ve already seen. It’s a human thing.

Now, as for why he chose me to be the God of my universe—I’m still not exactly sure. He said it had something to do with my way of thinking. My aspirations. My dreams.

And believe me—I had dreams.

I wanted to make the world better. A place where people worked together, united, reaching for greater heights as one. A civilization that conquered the stars hand in hand.

I’ve lost count of the times I cried to that vision, knowing just how far my world was from it.
Before I became God, that is.

In my wildest fantasies, I even dreamed up a way to get all the world leaders to sit down and genuinely understand each other. Nothing forceful. (We’ll get to that part later. It worked, by the way—well, mostly.)

I was baffled that I of all people got the chance. Surely others had even better ideas. Clearer visions… I was just a regular Joe in a 9-to-5, after all.

But still, I was grateful.

Anyway, I’m veering off-track again.

This is supposed to be a guideline, so let’s get to the meat of it:

Calm God = Calm Subjects.

Now, you’re a God. But… controlling free will is out of the picture (well… Not directly. We’ll touch this later on). Jim could give it to you, but according to him, we “ain’t ready for it.” And honestly? I get it now.

So, to calm them down—you need to be calm.
The first thing you should do is gather your thoughts.

What I did was stop time, first and foremost, just to have enough time to actually think.
That’s it. That simple.

Then I decided that nuclear fallout, nukes, disease, radiation, death, aging and famine can’t touch me. I’m completely immune to damage and incapacitation of any kind.

But then I changed my mind about famine—because I love to eat, and I don’t want to lose the hunger for food.

Imagine not wanting to eat a juicy steak. Couldn’t be me.

I also decided I was calm now—but nothing changed. Then I remembered:
That falls under free will.
And I can’t mess with that.

So I walked around my streets.
I saw people die, scream, cry, and burn alive.

I hated that scene. So I rewound time—about an hour before the nuke fell; and resumed time.

And what did I find?
Everyone on the ground, praying and crying. Still hopeless.

So what now? Rewind even further?

Don’t do that. You’d just get stuck in an unnecessarily long loop. No. Don’t be BORING!  You’re almighty now; let’s not play with time too much and actually use more of your new powers.

But since I can’t change how they feel with a flick of my fingers, I decided to neutralize the source of their fear.

The nuke.

In your case, it might be an asteroid.
But the solution is the same.

When it comes to people being the main problem… er—we’ll get to that in later chapters!

Anyway, after you will the nuke—or whatever threat—out of existence, don’t expect people to suddenly become calm again.

They won’t.

They need reassurance.
And not just a polite pat on the back kind—

I’m talking about divine, unshakable reassurance.

So, best to come out with a message.

As a God, you can just will your voice into the minds of everyone on your planet—fully translated into whatever language or dialect they understand best.

Now, don’t waste time crafting a beautiful speech.

This isn’t a TED Talk.

These people thought they were about to be wiped off the face of existence.

They don’t need a preacher.

They need a parent to hush them to sleep.

If every living person hears a calm voice say:

“I’m God. You are safe now.” in their minds—

—trust me, they’ll believe it. (Minus a few skeptics, but they tend to quiet down when they realize a nuke literally vanished from mid-air.)

I kept it simple.

I said,

“Hello. This is… uhm, your newly appointed God. You’re not going extinct. I took care of the looming nuke. Also—starting now, no country is allowed to use, launch, or even build weapons of mass destruction. Let’s all work together, yeah? That includes biological warfare. Thanks!”

I watched the people in my streets.

Some were crying with joy.

Some just stood there, mouths open.
A few stared at the sky and whispered, “God is Real.”

Others didn’t quite listen. They were understandably too busy panicking.

That’s when it hit me—
Important messages need to be repeated at least once.

So I repeated it.

And then I heard a child nearby cry…

“Mommy… make the voice go away…”

Yeah.

So—note to you, future divine reader:
Just because you can talk to everyone at once, doesn’t mean you should.

You can’t control free will, true. [There ARE easy workarounds, we’ll get to that later.]
But you can control who hears you.

So target only those who need reassurance.

Those in panic. Those in crisis.

Don’t beam your voice into a peaceful baby’s nap. Please.

And just like that, you’ve Gathered Your Thoughts!

For now : )