At Keady University in Indiana in 2015, twenty-seven-year-old Cyrus Shams lies on a filthy mattress in his squalid apartment, surrounded by soiled laundry, empty pill bottles, and stolen library books. After years of silence from God, he finds himself begging for a sign, promising he will sell everything and start a pilgrimage if God merely flickers the light bulb above him.

Cyrus reflects bitterly on figures like Muhammad and Saul, who received unambiguous divine revelations, and questions the fairness of a God who leaves the rest of humanity to suffer in uncertainty. He pleads earnestly for his own moment of clarity.

Then the light bulb flickers, or seems to. Cyrus, having consumed his usual cocktail of alcohol, weed, Klonopin, Adderall, Neurontin, and cigarettes (though saving Percocets for later), tries to determine whether the flash was a genuine miracle, faulty wiring, or the projection of his own desperate longing. He wonders if God now communicates through the strained eyes of drunk Iranians in the Midwest.

He takes a pull from the Old Crow whiskey bottle that anchors his existence and asks God to repeat the sign for confirmation. Nothing happens. Surrounded by the detritus of his addictions, Cyrus is left with a decision to make.