Angel update. number... errr... I forget
May. 26th, 2004 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessThis is continued from Home of Usher's fic which is here:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/home_of_usher/25108.html
*makes a mental not to come back and fix the link later*
This is part of my huge plot not to do work. It's working! I'm a genius.
Look, I can either call it intentional or I have to admit I'm just lazy.
Ok, first thing I got to make clear? I’m grateful, I really am. It really does look like someone up there’s listening to me. About time the personnel department sorted itself out. Finally I have an assistant.
Trouble is, it’s going to be more work in the short term. The kid had to be taught, more getting through all the bureaucracy more than anything else, but that was more than enough to keep us busy for the next millennia or so. Worse yet, we’ve got some delusions to shatter. It’s hard, being tapped, being filled with the divine, knowing you're going to do some real good in the world.... then learning that no-one had actually any idea of what actually constituted ‘good’. Let alone what to do about it. Then there’s the forms you have to fill out for every little good deed there was and every little use of divine energy. In triplicate. He’s still not finished dredging through the forms over the helicopter crash. Worse thing is, he seems to think he has to.
Yeah., that's the problem. Enthusiasm. It’s almost sickening to watch. The bright shiny eagerness to get everything done and to do it right. The genuine passion to clear his in tray (most of us have resigned ourselves to the fact that the in tray will never be emptied and that the bottom papers are actually going to start to rot before we get any where near to dealing with them). The almost physical need to stick to the schedule (everyone else having long since decided that the time table was a joke, and a poor one at that).
Still, give him time. The shininess will wear off. He’d also managed to keep his streak of mischievous fun. I hoped he could keep that as well, he'd certainly need it.
“C’mon kid, work’s calling.”
He looked up from his towering stack of paperwork (I think a large amount of it was the amazingly long diatribe from St. John. He may be a saint, but he can get awfully touchy at times). “More work? I haven’t even got through half of this!”
Nor would he. Ever, that’s the way things worked round here. Time for some basic lessons. “You haven’t mastered our filing system yet, then?”
“We even have a filing system?” Hey, the kid had eyes at least.
“Yeah, we do. It’s the people who actually store and collect information for us that don’t. Now, watch carefully.” I grabbed a large stack of papers from the top of the in tray, including half of St John’s... remonstration. “Pick up paper.” I kicked the bin out from under the desk. “Open filing system.” I dropped the papers into the bin, watching them overflow over the top. “File papers. Optional extras include a shredder, a fire or throwing with great force against the opposite wall. If you have time, paper aeroplanes can do the job of important memos if properly aimed at the head.” He looked at me to see if I was joking. “Actually, I think the information collators might use this system as well.”
“But what if some of the papers are important?”
“Nah. Water into wine, yeah, I’ll go with that. Swineherds becoming princes, fair enough. Walking on water? No problem. But paperwork that’s actually important? There are limits. We’ve got practical work at the minute.”
He looked shiny and hopeful again. Really bad idea, the practical work is even more soul destroying (sometimes literally) than the paperwork.
“We’ve got some visiting evangelists doing a tour of the country.”
“And we’ve got to help them?”
Ok, that caught me off guard. “Help them?! They’re EVANGELISTS! What side do you think we’re on? We’re to follow them around and try and limit the damage on all sides.”
“Damage? Uh... you expect damage?”
“They’re handing out these... Chick Tracts.” I threw a few sheets of the wretched cartoons onto his desk. He glanced at the first one and his eyes jerked wide.
“Shit... what happened to the love your neighbour thing?”
“For some reason, while the mainstream in all the major religions can hold onto that very well, the vocal ones all seem to edit it out. We really need to set up a religious text editor - maybe put it in bold or something. Come on, he lands in the Heart of Darkness in a couple of hours.”
“Heart of Darkness?”
“Heathrow.” I shuddered. It was even worse than the tube. “File those comics before we go.”
Sam chucked the booklet into the bin. See? He does learn quickly.
http://www.livejournal.com/users/home_of_usher/25108.html
*makes a mental not to come back and fix the link later*
This is part of my huge plot not to do work. It's working! I'm a genius.
Look, I can either call it intentional or I have to admit I'm just lazy.
Ok, first thing I got to make clear? I’m grateful, I really am. It really does look like someone up there’s listening to me. About time the personnel department sorted itself out. Finally I have an assistant.
Trouble is, it’s going to be more work in the short term. The kid had to be taught, more getting through all the bureaucracy more than anything else, but that was more than enough to keep us busy for the next millennia or so. Worse yet, we’ve got some delusions to shatter. It’s hard, being tapped, being filled with the divine, knowing you're going to do some real good in the world.... then learning that no-one had actually any idea of what actually constituted ‘good’. Let alone what to do about it. Then there’s the forms you have to fill out for every little good deed there was and every little use of divine energy. In triplicate. He’s still not finished dredging through the forms over the helicopter crash. Worse thing is, he seems to think he has to.
Yeah., that's the problem. Enthusiasm. It’s almost sickening to watch. The bright shiny eagerness to get everything done and to do it right. The genuine passion to clear his in tray (most of us have resigned ourselves to the fact that the in tray will never be emptied and that the bottom papers are actually going to start to rot before we get any where near to dealing with them). The almost physical need to stick to the schedule (everyone else having long since decided that the time table was a joke, and a poor one at that).
Still, give him time. The shininess will wear off. He’d also managed to keep his streak of mischievous fun. I hoped he could keep that as well, he'd certainly need it.
“C’mon kid, work’s calling.”
He looked up from his towering stack of paperwork (I think a large amount of it was the amazingly long diatribe from St. John. He may be a saint, but he can get awfully touchy at times). “More work? I haven’t even got through half of this!”
Nor would he. Ever, that’s the way things worked round here. Time for some basic lessons. “You haven’t mastered our filing system yet, then?”
“We even have a filing system?” Hey, the kid had eyes at least.
“Yeah, we do. It’s the people who actually store and collect information for us that don’t. Now, watch carefully.” I grabbed a large stack of papers from the top of the in tray, including half of St John’s... remonstration. “Pick up paper.” I kicked the bin out from under the desk. “Open filing system.” I dropped the papers into the bin, watching them overflow over the top. “File papers. Optional extras include a shredder, a fire or throwing with great force against the opposite wall. If you have time, paper aeroplanes can do the job of important memos if properly aimed at the head.” He looked at me to see if I was joking. “Actually, I think the information collators might use this system as well.”
“But what if some of the papers are important?”
“Nah. Water into wine, yeah, I’ll go with that. Swineherds becoming princes, fair enough. Walking on water? No problem. But paperwork that’s actually important? There are limits. We’ve got practical work at the minute.”
He looked shiny and hopeful again. Really bad idea, the practical work is even more soul destroying (sometimes literally) than the paperwork.
“We’ve got some visiting evangelists doing a tour of the country.”
“And we’ve got to help them?”
Ok, that caught me off guard. “Help them?! They’re EVANGELISTS! What side do you think we’re on? We’re to follow them around and try and limit the damage on all sides.”
“Damage? Uh... you expect damage?”
“They’re handing out these... Chick Tracts.” I threw a few sheets of the wretched cartoons onto his desk. He glanced at the first one and his eyes jerked wide.
“Shit... what happened to the love your neighbour thing?”
“For some reason, while the mainstream in all the major religions can hold onto that very well, the vocal ones all seem to edit it out. We really need to set up a religious text editor - maybe put it in bold or something. Come on, he lands in the Heart of Darkness in a couple of hours.”
“Heart of Darkness?”
“Heathrow.” I shuddered. It was even worse than the tube. “File those comics before we go.”
Sam chucked the booklet into the bin. See? He does learn quickly.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-05-27 03:58 am (UTC)or.. the next? cuz now I see there's two! o.O
(no subject)
Date: 2004-05-27 10:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-05-27 11:09 am (UTC)I started writing frst for after this, then after watching Sam a bit more and what he'd likely do, I started writing a second fic already which i need to research a bit before I'm done. The second part is kinda from Esra's POV again. the first bit is from Sam's. or I'm trying to make it from Sam's so we'll see. *G* kick me periodically and ask bout it. ;-P
(no subject)
Date: 2004-06-01 11:36 am (UTC)