First of the Request Fics
Jan. 21st, 2004 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessRequested by Home_of_Usher, who wished the Angel fic with a soul lost between heaven and hell.
Forgive me all Jedis.
And yea, was I blessed with a holy signal from the divine Metatron, the Voice of God!
Well, no, I didn’t. I received a memo from the Metatron, Vice President in charge of communications and personal secretary to the None-Denominational Divine, Managing Director of Heaven Ltd. I think he preferred Voice of God, to be honest, judging by the way he’s inclined to set fire to things when his inbox gets too full. Not that that helps the problems we have, not only do we not know what we’re doing, but we don’t know what anyone else is doing either.
I unfolded the bloody thing with all due sense of dread - I've already got to handle the British Isles - on my own, no less - and now they’re adding to the work load? I emptied a double whisky before I could bring myself to read it.
“BE OVERWHELMED WITH JOY AND AWE AT THE WORDS OF THE SUPREME BEING OF DEITY!!! HEAR HIS COMMANDS AND TREMBLE!!!”
Is it just me, or is there something really disturbing about Metatron’s habit of using multiple exclamation marks?
“WARRIOR OF THE HOST, THY MISSION OF PURITY WILL CONTINUE!!! Good morning Esrazel, may we express our heartfelt gratitude for your help during this difficult time of restructuring.”
Looks like this was dictated. Metatron needs to work on his preamble a bit, waaay too old school. I’m not going to talk about the gratitude bit.
“It would be appreciated if you would see the Vice President of Complaints at you earliest possible opportunity to facilitate the resolution of a troubling matter.”
Uh-oh... That didn’t sound good. Troubling matter meant that Uriel, Angel of death, wait, no, Uriel Vice President in charge of Complaints and Problem Solving was not going to be a happy celestial. Not that he was ever particularly bouncy, anyway.
Alright, another glass, and I can face him. Hmm, maybe I should bring the bottle. I decided against it, would give the wrong impression, after all.
I should have brought it. I really should have brought it.
Uriel and Raphael (Vice President in Charge of Religious Diversity - and who did he have to piss off to get THAT job?!) were glaring ferociously at each other. Uriel’s wings arching menacingly over the pair of them like flocks of midnight ravens, his hands clenching round a scythe he wasn’t allowed to carry in the office. Raphael stood straight and tall as a marble statue, seeming to loom from a great height of impervious purity and righteousness.
A poor, recently departed soul stood cowering at the other end of the room, shrinking back from the expansive wing spans. He looked youngish, mid-twenties tops with shabby clothes a bit to big for him. He looked like he was normally cocky if it weren’t for the arguing seraphim in the room.
“Excuse me?” You know the worst way to establish respect? Use that horrible little shouted whisper when you need to be noticed, but don’t really want to be? Yup, brilliant start, I don’t think. I should have brought the bottle.
Uriel turned to me, nearly pouncing, leaving Raphael staring rather stupidly at where Uriel was. “Now you’ve allowed this farce to happen, are you going to tell us what you’re going to do about it?”
I’m new to the corporate world, but I know a ‘someone’s getting burned for this, and it’s not going to be me’ statement. “Whoa up there, I’m accepting no responsibility ‘till I know what’s what.” Ha-hah, didn’t work. Goading the angel of death isn’t a good thing is it?
I should have brought the bottle.
“This human is dead,” Uriel waved an angry wing at the disembodied soul, “and we don’t know what to do with him!”
I managed not to point out how little we know considering we’re supposed to be omniscient. Just. “Why don’t you? What’s the protocol now? Let’s see...” I managed to pull a long lost policy note to the forefront of my mind. “’Find out their faith, find out their belief in the afterlife then send them on to the proper place factoring in whatever moral considerations - including their own subjective, the religion’s subjective and the standard secular objective - are appropriate then send them on.’ Not difficult is it.”
Uriel smiled slightly. “Go on then.” Ok, why do I get the impression of a web being woven? Step into my parlour said the spooky death angel... Don’t have much choice, do I? I should have brought the bottle.
“Alright mate, I take it you died in the UK?” He nodded, eyes still on Uriel and the seething Raphael. Guess I don’t compete much. “Ok, we just need to be sure - what was your religion? Any or none - don’t worry, we’re equal opportunities and we’re not going to damn you for being any religion or an atheist.” Ok, exactly how many people are likely to STAY an atheist after meeting two seraphim and yours truly is a mystery, but I don’t underestimate human stubbornness. Or humans at all for that matter... why is he grinning?
“Padawan Matthew Johnson, am I. Jedi, I be.” Then he grinned again. Can I send someone to hell for being a prat? Please?
Raphael finally moved from his position of acute constipation, or possibly divine dignity. “It would seem wisest to class him as a lost soul.”
“Is he a lost soul?” He has a religion, errr... kind of. Besides atheists aren’t lost souls either, since the memo declaring atheism a belief system. “He has a belief system... I think. Jedi? As in Star Wars?”
The human nodded... realisation began to dawn with a horrible sinking feeling... REALLY should have kept that bottle. Still, maybe I can shift the blame... that’s standard corporate practice, right?
“Raphael, you’re the one in charge of Religious Diversity, what’s the belief system of a... err.. Jedi?” I had the wonderful moment of seeing Raphael look uncomfortable.
“I cannot verify this... I have not heard of it and my files are... disrupted.” His perfect face cracked a little more. “The computer is down again!”
Uriel grimaced. “I’ve rang the Microsoft support line. I’m still on hold.”
Believe me, when Bill Gates dies he’s going to find a crowd of very angry people at the pearly gates. With clubs. Me included, because it means I have to explain the Jedi thing to Uriel. On a scale of one to ten, how happy do you think he’s going to be?
“Look, it was a joke going round at the time of the last census... Because religion doesn’t matter all that much to most English folks,” whoa, wrong thing to say, rescue mission! “I mean, because it doesn’t matter to them what they put on a census,” watch that smooth recovery! “ Many people put down ‘Jedi’ for a joke, there was a net campaign for it, I think...” Uriel’s glare had gone beyond ‘withering’ and had reached ‘flaying’. “Err... people thought it would make the religion official... I don’t think it did, but clearly some people actually believed...” Hey, this isn’t my fault! I don’t have to take this! “What was I supposed to do Uriel?! I aren’t allowed to interfere in people’s religious choices indirectly or otherwise. Besides, compared to what people already believe it might not be that bad.”
I could see the problem though, exactly what were we supposed to do with him? I asked as much. That was a mistake, right? Yeah, I can see that, now. Because in that wonderful corporate way “what are we going to do with him?” became “what am I going to do with him?” And morphed wonderfully into “Haven’t you dealt with him yet?” Yay capitalism. Whoopee. Fine, but I’m getting the bottle first. Just one glass. Ok two. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not as if angels can die of liver failure anyway. Book me for drunk flying or something.
“Hey, do I get wings to?” I stared at the human floating in my wake. We had long grey corridors now for the ‘office’ unfortunately, the scale was a little off... there were misty clouds between me and the distant grey carpet. If you can call a layer of dusty fabric that felt like Hessian carpet.
“No, I only have them because they’re pretty generically accepted.”
“What, not because of the whole Christian, thing then?”
“Nope, I think some other religions have winged messengers or some such anyway. We don’t support any religion above any other, that’s the party line.” Another drink I think. “We amalgamated the various afterlives and divinities together for efficiency.” I spat the word and took another drink.
“Cool, you mean you’re Unitarian?”
“Possibly. I dunno what a Unitarian is. Don’t look at me like that.” He looked like I’d just announced I’m a serial rapist. “You seen how many religions there are in the world... not to mention new ones being made every five seconds. You expect me to keep track? Puh-lease. We have files and records for that - which is where we’re going now to see Michael in the records room.”
“Wow! Archangel Michael, Lord of the Morning?”
“Once. Or at least part of him was. He’s now Michael, Vice President in Charge of Records and Communication. You seem fairly well informed about Christianity... if you convert you’d make my life easier, shove you into heaven, no problem.”
“Jedi, I am!” That high pitched voice is so getting him the suckiest afterlife I can find. “Besides there’s two choices to that aren’t there? How do you know I won’t go to hell?”
“Because I’m an all knowing divine being?” Oh great, I’m getting sceptical looks off humans now.
Michael was sat in his nest of computers, surrounded by piles of paper and feverishly typing heralds. “Yo Mike, need a good bad equation on this soul here. An objective will do for now.” Since we didn’t know what the morals of his faith WERE, we’re going to have to stick to secular objective. Yeah, I know that’s wrong, sue me. Look, we’ll err on the side of niceness, OK? I need another drink.
Michael looked at me, and the light seemed to dim a little. Oh crap, he’s on a low swing. Can't we get pills to cure manic depression these days? I handed the bottle over to him wordlessly. Bets on me getting any back? Finally eh could choke out an answer. “Can’t. Computers down.”
“Microsoft again?” I ignored the dead human’s snigger. Michael nodded sadly.
“Uriel says we’re on hold.” He didn't bother with a glass, just straight from the bottle. This guy needs therapy.
“Ok, Mick, we have one choice... you know it, we’re going to have to outsource this one.”
Michael looked even more depressed about that, the light in the room seemed to darken even further. “We can’t do that!”
“We have no choice, we can’t have lost souls in limbo, it’s bad for PR. Besides, what are we supposed to do?”
“Alright, but you’re taking the flack.” Like that was any surprise.
Ok I started the ceremony... then scrapped it all and picked up the phone. I suppose there are some advantages to going corporate. Meeting set. Why do I not feel better?
One wall became a curtain of flame briefly, looks like some traditions don’t change, and a tall man in an expensive suite, with expensive sun glasses, an expensive watch, taking into a very expensive phone.
“Yeah baby. Yeah, trust me. Yup, have your people call my people. Ok. Ciao!” He closed his tiny phone with a snap. Before turning to me. “Hi, I’m Endorieah, representative of Infernal Services Ltd, what can I do you for?”
I hate dealing with demons. “We need access to your records. We got a dead guy here, and don’t know what to do with him?”
“Oh yeah?” He looked the guy up and down like a prospective buyer. Did I mention I didn’t like demons? Michael emptied the bottle. “What’s in it for us?”
“Don‘t give me that crap, it’s in both our interests to keep the system working, you know it. Besides, he could end up as one of yours.”
The Demon shifted and looked uncomfortable behind his glasses. “Alright, truth? Our computer system’s down...”
“Microsoft?”
“How’d you guess.” I glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Gates is nothing to do with us. Why do you think we’re all on massive holidays, while you’re overworked? People are capable of screwing each other up without any help from us.”
“So what about me?” The Jedi looked a little nervous now. Probably the demon, they tend to do that.
Ok, emergency plan. Last resort. “Look... what do you believe happens to you after death?”
“Errr... I’m not sure...”
“You and me both. Anyway, how’s this for a compromise offer - give you a dose of reincarnation - totally human, I promise!” A slight worried look disappeared, “and hopefully when you’re back here again we’ll have sorted out the system, right?” I wasn’t pleading. I wasn’t pleading, honest.
“What about being a Jedi?”
“Well... is reincarnation banned under Jedi-ism? Just consider it a... life extension... After all, Yoda lived a long time, right?”
He nodded grudgingly.
“Excellent... so I can refer you to the resurrection department?”
Finally, he nodded. Problem solved.
I need a new bottle.
Forgive me all Jedis.
And yea, was I blessed with a holy signal from the divine Metatron, the Voice of God!
Well, no, I didn’t. I received a memo from the Metatron, Vice President in charge of communications and personal secretary to the None-Denominational Divine, Managing Director of Heaven Ltd. I think he preferred Voice of God, to be honest, judging by the way he’s inclined to set fire to things when his inbox gets too full. Not that that helps the problems we have, not only do we not know what we’re doing, but we don’t know what anyone else is doing either.
I unfolded the bloody thing with all due sense of dread - I've already got to handle the British Isles - on my own, no less - and now they’re adding to the work load? I emptied a double whisky before I could bring myself to read it.
“BE OVERWHELMED WITH JOY AND AWE AT THE WORDS OF THE SUPREME BEING OF DEITY!!! HEAR HIS COMMANDS AND TREMBLE!!!”
Is it just me, or is there something really disturbing about Metatron’s habit of using multiple exclamation marks?
“WARRIOR OF THE HOST, THY MISSION OF PURITY WILL CONTINUE!!! Good morning Esrazel, may we express our heartfelt gratitude for your help during this difficult time of restructuring.”
Looks like this was dictated. Metatron needs to work on his preamble a bit, waaay too old school. I’m not going to talk about the gratitude bit.
“It would be appreciated if you would see the Vice President of Complaints at you earliest possible opportunity to facilitate the resolution of a troubling matter.”
Uh-oh... That didn’t sound good. Troubling matter meant that Uriel, Angel of death, wait, no, Uriel Vice President in charge of Complaints and Problem Solving was not going to be a happy celestial. Not that he was ever particularly bouncy, anyway.
Alright, another glass, and I can face him. Hmm, maybe I should bring the bottle. I decided against it, would give the wrong impression, after all.
I should have brought it. I really should have brought it.
Uriel and Raphael (Vice President in Charge of Religious Diversity - and who did he have to piss off to get THAT job?!) were glaring ferociously at each other. Uriel’s wings arching menacingly over the pair of them like flocks of midnight ravens, his hands clenching round a scythe he wasn’t allowed to carry in the office. Raphael stood straight and tall as a marble statue, seeming to loom from a great height of impervious purity and righteousness.
A poor, recently departed soul stood cowering at the other end of the room, shrinking back from the expansive wing spans. He looked youngish, mid-twenties tops with shabby clothes a bit to big for him. He looked like he was normally cocky if it weren’t for the arguing seraphim in the room.
“Excuse me?” You know the worst way to establish respect? Use that horrible little shouted whisper when you need to be noticed, but don’t really want to be? Yup, brilliant start, I don’t think. I should have brought the bottle.
Uriel turned to me, nearly pouncing, leaving Raphael staring rather stupidly at where Uriel was. “Now you’ve allowed this farce to happen, are you going to tell us what you’re going to do about it?”
I’m new to the corporate world, but I know a ‘someone’s getting burned for this, and it’s not going to be me’ statement. “Whoa up there, I’m accepting no responsibility ‘till I know what’s what.” Ha-hah, didn’t work. Goading the angel of death isn’t a good thing is it?
I should have brought the bottle.
“This human is dead,” Uriel waved an angry wing at the disembodied soul, “and we don’t know what to do with him!”
I managed not to point out how little we know considering we’re supposed to be omniscient. Just. “Why don’t you? What’s the protocol now? Let’s see...” I managed to pull a long lost policy note to the forefront of my mind. “’Find out their faith, find out their belief in the afterlife then send them on to the proper place factoring in whatever moral considerations - including their own subjective, the religion’s subjective and the standard secular objective - are appropriate then send them on.’ Not difficult is it.”
Uriel smiled slightly. “Go on then.” Ok, why do I get the impression of a web being woven? Step into my parlour said the spooky death angel... Don’t have much choice, do I? I should have brought the bottle.
“Alright mate, I take it you died in the UK?” He nodded, eyes still on Uriel and the seething Raphael. Guess I don’t compete much. “Ok, we just need to be sure - what was your religion? Any or none - don’t worry, we’re equal opportunities and we’re not going to damn you for being any religion or an atheist.” Ok, exactly how many people are likely to STAY an atheist after meeting two seraphim and yours truly is a mystery, but I don’t underestimate human stubbornness. Or humans at all for that matter... why is he grinning?
“Padawan Matthew Johnson, am I. Jedi, I be.” Then he grinned again. Can I send someone to hell for being a prat? Please?
Raphael finally moved from his position of acute constipation, or possibly divine dignity. “It would seem wisest to class him as a lost soul.”
“Is he a lost soul?” He has a religion, errr... kind of. Besides atheists aren’t lost souls either, since the memo declaring atheism a belief system. “He has a belief system... I think. Jedi? As in Star Wars?”
The human nodded... realisation began to dawn with a horrible sinking feeling... REALLY should have kept that bottle. Still, maybe I can shift the blame... that’s standard corporate practice, right?
“Raphael, you’re the one in charge of Religious Diversity, what’s the belief system of a... err.. Jedi?” I had the wonderful moment of seeing Raphael look uncomfortable.
“I cannot verify this... I have not heard of it and my files are... disrupted.” His perfect face cracked a little more. “The computer is down again!”
Uriel grimaced. “I’ve rang the Microsoft support line. I’m still on hold.”
Believe me, when Bill Gates dies he’s going to find a crowd of very angry people at the pearly gates. With clubs. Me included, because it means I have to explain the Jedi thing to Uriel. On a scale of one to ten, how happy do you think he’s going to be?
“Look, it was a joke going round at the time of the last census... Because religion doesn’t matter all that much to most English folks,” whoa, wrong thing to say, rescue mission! “I mean, because it doesn’t matter to them what they put on a census,” watch that smooth recovery! “ Many people put down ‘Jedi’ for a joke, there was a net campaign for it, I think...” Uriel’s glare had gone beyond ‘withering’ and had reached ‘flaying’. “Err... people thought it would make the religion official... I don’t think it did, but clearly some people actually believed...” Hey, this isn’t my fault! I don’t have to take this! “What was I supposed to do Uriel?! I aren’t allowed to interfere in people’s religious choices indirectly or otherwise. Besides, compared to what people already believe it might not be that bad.”
I could see the problem though, exactly what were we supposed to do with him? I asked as much. That was a mistake, right? Yeah, I can see that, now. Because in that wonderful corporate way “what are we going to do with him?” became “what am I going to do with him?” And morphed wonderfully into “Haven’t you dealt with him yet?” Yay capitalism. Whoopee. Fine, but I’m getting the bottle first. Just one glass. Ok two. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not as if angels can die of liver failure anyway. Book me for drunk flying or something.
“Hey, do I get wings to?” I stared at the human floating in my wake. We had long grey corridors now for the ‘office’ unfortunately, the scale was a little off... there were misty clouds between me and the distant grey carpet. If you can call a layer of dusty fabric that felt like Hessian carpet.
“No, I only have them because they’re pretty generically accepted.”
“What, not because of the whole Christian, thing then?”
“Nope, I think some other religions have winged messengers or some such anyway. We don’t support any religion above any other, that’s the party line.” Another drink I think. “We amalgamated the various afterlives and divinities together for efficiency.” I spat the word and took another drink.
“Cool, you mean you’re Unitarian?”
“Possibly. I dunno what a Unitarian is. Don’t look at me like that.” He looked like I’d just announced I’m a serial rapist. “You seen how many religions there are in the world... not to mention new ones being made every five seconds. You expect me to keep track? Puh-lease. We have files and records for that - which is where we’re going now to see Michael in the records room.”
“Wow! Archangel Michael, Lord of the Morning?”
“Once. Or at least part of him was. He’s now Michael, Vice President in Charge of Records and Communication. You seem fairly well informed about Christianity... if you convert you’d make my life easier, shove you into heaven, no problem.”
“Jedi, I am!” That high pitched voice is so getting him the suckiest afterlife I can find. “Besides there’s two choices to that aren’t there? How do you know I won’t go to hell?”
“Because I’m an all knowing divine being?” Oh great, I’m getting sceptical looks off humans now.
Michael was sat in his nest of computers, surrounded by piles of paper and feverishly typing heralds. “Yo Mike, need a good bad equation on this soul here. An objective will do for now.” Since we didn’t know what the morals of his faith WERE, we’re going to have to stick to secular objective. Yeah, I know that’s wrong, sue me. Look, we’ll err on the side of niceness, OK? I need another drink.
Michael looked at me, and the light seemed to dim a little. Oh crap, he’s on a low swing. Can't we get pills to cure manic depression these days? I handed the bottle over to him wordlessly. Bets on me getting any back? Finally eh could choke out an answer. “Can’t. Computers down.”
“Microsoft again?” I ignored the dead human’s snigger. Michael nodded sadly.
“Uriel says we’re on hold.” He didn't bother with a glass, just straight from the bottle. This guy needs therapy.
“Ok, Mick, we have one choice... you know it, we’re going to have to outsource this one.”
Michael looked even more depressed about that, the light in the room seemed to darken even further. “We can’t do that!”
“We have no choice, we can’t have lost souls in limbo, it’s bad for PR. Besides, what are we supposed to do?”
“Alright, but you’re taking the flack.” Like that was any surprise.
Ok I started the ceremony... then scrapped it all and picked up the phone. I suppose there are some advantages to going corporate. Meeting set. Why do I not feel better?
One wall became a curtain of flame briefly, looks like some traditions don’t change, and a tall man in an expensive suite, with expensive sun glasses, an expensive watch, taking into a very expensive phone.
“Yeah baby. Yeah, trust me. Yup, have your people call my people. Ok. Ciao!” He closed his tiny phone with a snap. Before turning to me. “Hi, I’m Endorieah, representative of Infernal Services Ltd, what can I do you for?”
I hate dealing with demons. “We need access to your records. We got a dead guy here, and don’t know what to do with him?”
“Oh yeah?” He looked the guy up and down like a prospective buyer. Did I mention I didn’t like demons? Michael emptied the bottle. “What’s in it for us?”
“Don‘t give me that crap, it’s in both our interests to keep the system working, you know it. Besides, he could end up as one of yours.”
The Demon shifted and looked uncomfortable behind his glasses. “Alright, truth? Our computer system’s down...”
“Microsoft?”
“How’d you guess.” I glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Gates is nothing to do with us. Why do you think we’re all on massive holidays, while you’re overworked? People are capable of screwing each other up without any help from us.”
“So what about me?” The Jedi looked a little nervous now. Probably the demon, they tend to do that.
Ok, emergency plan. Last resort. “Look... what do you believe happens to you after death?”
“Errr... I’m not sure...”
“You and me both. Anyway, how’s this for a compromise offer - give you a dose of reincarnation - totally human, I promise!” A slight worried look disappeared, “and hopefully when you’re back here again we’ll have sorted out the system, right?” I wasn’t pleading. I wasn’t pleading, honest.
“What about being a Jedi?”
“Well... is reincarnation banned under Jedi-ism? Just consider it a... life extension... After all, Yoda lived a long time, right?”
He nodded grudgingly.
“Excellent... so I can refer you to the resurrection department?”
Finally, he nodded. Problem solved.
I need a new bottle.
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GAHAHAAHAHAA!
Date: 2004-01-22 09:18 am (UTC)good glory of goobers! That was so damn funny. Made my morning Sparky, I gotta tell ya. Ohhhhh man. ya mind if I pimp this? Oh this is so going in my Memories, and while I'm at it, cut and paste to a word pad for keepers, heck, why not? I'm gonna print it and keep it around. That was just too good. My greatest thanks to you. dang. might as well make a request if people want stories written by me. I owe you first dibs. *must go work on chat stuff now and will be snickering all day*
Re: GAHAHAAHAHAA!
Date: 2004-01-22 05:31 pm (UTC)Feel free to pimp! Having my stuff spread around can only be a good thing (for my diabolical plans... MUAHAHAHA)
I'll have to look for that, post...hmmm