The cult of Erwin originated in the 1920s, although at the time his immortality was an experimentally unverifiable postulate. Soon thereafter, the church splintered over discordant interpretations. Even now, some physicists argue that his apparent immunity to the depredations of age is merely probabilistic and that there must exist other worlds in which Erwin no longer thrives. They make their arguments with strings, although Erwin, in fine feline form, consistently bats these away.
In truth, the god’s surface seems blurred, as though there may be some doubt as to his location. He shifts between solid and liquid phase depending on the proximity of boundary conditions. A sacrifice to Erwin — he appears fond of kibble, dust bunnies, and wadded wrapping paper — may cause coin flips to fall your way.
Erwin’s eyes gleam from the dark.