Wilfred stood at the rear of his electric golf cart measuring the distance to the hole. His drive had been competent. He was on the fairway. He leant into his bag and took out a six iron. He replaced it with a five iron. He took his stance and prepared to strike the ball. He forward pressed slightly and swung. The ball left the club with a pleasing thwack. It was slightly long and faintly sliced to the right. Wilfred replaced the club and got into the cart. He drove towards the green. He pondered on the vagaries of the game of golf. How long had he been playing it? On and off, he thought to himself, for two hundred years and still he was not its master. His father had never showed the slightest interest in the game. Still he was busy enough, with his seven universes with their fiery suns and the often troubling comportment of the various planetary occupants. Wilfred drove to the side of the green and alighted. He was playing alone. This was how he liked it. He had time to contemplate between shots. The Three Moons Golf Club was one of many courses in Paradise. Yet there were comparatively few golfers. This was because it was a game limited to being played on the little planet Earth and those humans who played it were often consumed with sins of pride, envy and greed. Paradise was accordingly denied them. Wilfred smiled to himself thinking of the funny tartan pants the human men wore when playing golf and the strange and inconsequential dress code which tony clubs clung to. It was different in Paradise. Here all inhabitants were civilized and considerate to one another. It was, after all, how they got to Paradise in the first place. Earth was still the only planet that Wilfred's father had colonized with fully rational beings. Wilfred doubted that his father would try it again. Humans, he mused, had shown that given the choice of good and bad, they usually took the wrong path. Wilfred ruefully thought of the various dictators that Earth had produced, the calamities brought by humans on themselves and the Crusades, allegedly fought, in the name of his father.
Yet Paradise was changing. Wilfred's father had authorized the building of fifty thousand homes in a new suburb of Paradise One called Earthly Meadows. There would be new shops, sporting facilities and theaters. Wilfred expected this was due to the population explosion on Earth. More humans must surely mean more inhabitants of Paradise. There were similar sub-divisions being developed in each of the other six Paradises.
The son was always the loyal right hand man to his father. He knew one day his destiny would again overtake him. He knew his father would one day inform him of the second coming to earth. He still had the punctures in his hands to remind him of his first visit over two thousand years ago when he called himself Jesus.
Wilfred took a pitching wedge and walked to his Titleist Pro V. He paused to stand on the ridge where his ball was perched and enjoy his view of the three overlapping lakes which dominate the course and which were the 'three moons' of the Club's name. It was late afternoon in Paradise and its two suns were starting to dip towards the North. The day had been fine and clear. The temperature was a balmy 23 degrees. It was just another pretty day in Paradise. Wilfred was a tall man. He was dark and slim. His beard was neat and trimmed. He wore a dark blue Three Moons Golf Club golf shirt with khaki tailored shorts, ankle socks and tan leather golf shoes. He stood over the ball. The Fifteenth was a par four. He was going to lob the ball to the green and wait for the dip and borrow to run the Pro V to the hole.
He heard a voice and turned to see a golf cart driving towards him. It had a single occupant. He recognized him. It was Mohammed, his father's aide de camp.
The cart pulled up just short of where Wilfred was standing.