god, tacos, & the time axiom x

From a competition: 250 words [though I’ve edited it to be a bit longer] Prompts: Science Fiction, “tax",” and wading in water

It’s that time of the month when food satisfies a deep emotional need. The barbacoa scent and the growing grease spot on the delivery bag nearly make me weep. 

Penelope waits, ready to pick up the argument where we left off. Little sisters: can’t live with ‘em, can’t eat ‘em. I think that’s how it goes, I don’t know, I’m hungry. 

“There was no voice,” Penelope says.

“Can’t know for sure.” My teeth crunch into a taco. Heaven.

“We could know. Dad’s not home.” 

“Bad idea.” I say, mouth full, but not fully enjoying the perfect greasy goodness because of all the yapping.

She points her nose to the air. “Then concede.”

I drop my taco dramatically. She’s not going to let this go.

We cracked the basement passcode years ago. First, we only peeked at TAX, Dad’s secret Ryv-Corp project. 

Later, we touched.

Last week, we tried it. Penelope’s itching to go again. 

“How’d you figure time and place?” I ask as she closes us inside.

“Dad’s notes,” says Penelope. She punches in a series of numbers and symbols into the TAX controller.

“He’s been then?”

“He’s been everywhen.”

We’re invisible inside the machine, hovering above the Jordan River 2100-ish years ago. Two men in tunics wade into the water. John baptizes Jesus. A crowd watches. 

“See?” Penelope is triumphant. “No God. No voice.” 

“But look!” I point. The people below are looking up, not at us, the TAX is invisible when fired up. They’re just looking up. 

“So?” Penelope shrugs.

“They see something!”

“Not God.”

“You don’t see it, but somehow you know what it’s not?”

Penelope looks down at the crowd, “You’re being obtuse.”

“I’m being hungry.”

Penelope sighs, “If I let you eat, you’ll admit it?”

“Probably.” I say.

Little sisters: can’t eat ‘em, but you can lie to ‘em so you can eat. I think that’s how it goes. I don’t know, I’m hungry.