Children of Destiny
Morning Stars of Eternity II
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
Copyright 6178 SC
Morning Stars: Loquiel
Morning Stars: Cosadriel
Morning Stars: Kelkuriel
Morning Stars: Gamrayel
Morning Stars: Semambarel
Morning Stars: Jontel
Morning Stars: Yaramiel
But I was forgetting about this… ….The Ecclesia of God
Morning Stars: Mistrel
Morning Stars: Matrel
Morning Stars: Kantriel
Morning Stars: Daraqel
Morning Stars: Surafel
Morning Stars: Simonuel
Morning Stars: Azrael
Morning Stars: Judael
Morning Stars: Jerahmeel
Morning Stars: Devuel
‘Morning Stars: Hosannuel’
(Morning Stars XIII)
Hosanna in the highest. He will come again to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. One holy, catholic and apostolic church, built on the blood of Jesus Christ, our lord and saviour, redeemer of mankind and friend of sinners. Friend of sinners. Friend of sinners.
The ball went through the sticks. He never really failed these days. And that was what it was like, these days. They had lost their way, the church. Looking for meaning. And suddenly Islam seemed appealing. Suddenly their muslim friends, who loved Jesus the prophet, looked appealing. But that cherubim, that Daniel fellow, well, he was unconquerable. He never quit. And while a new war had begun for Hosannuel, the thirteenth, the devil himself in number, it was a war he prayed to Allah he would win. For justice beckoned, and the truth was at stake.
* * * * *
know, Gilgadel,' began Hosannuel the Seraphim. 'I have been
'Dangerous, that,' replied Gilgadel. 'You are not known to be terribly bright.'
'By the fair forests of Lebanon, my IQ dwarves your own,' replied Hosannuel.
'In the dreams of Satan perhaps, but he is the lord of evil,' smiled Gilgadel.
'Humph. Anyway, I have been thinking,' said Hosannuel. 'There are 12 Stars of Revelation. And I am the 13th.'
'Beyond the scope of the prophet Yeshua to contemplate your mere dismal self,' said Gilgadel. 'Anyway, he has 12 apostles, not 13.'
'Yes, and the 12 stars theology failed, and he is looking for a new apocalpytic angle. And I have been thinking.'
'What have you been thinking then?' asked Gilgadel.
'Noah is getting strong these days, in his community of Noahides. And they are true monotheists. This church has a fixation on Yeshua which has always bordered on idolatry. We should form an alliance of sorts with Daniel the Seraphim, and teach Jesus a lesson on the pride of a prophet who believes himself God.'
'An interesting object lesson,' replied Gilgadel. 'How would you go about achieving such a thing?'
'A plan. A deep and cunning plan. Involving Noahide, Jew and Muslim. The true keepers of monotheism, to teach their tritheistic Christian brethren a lesson.'
'We tried that. People didn't like Al Qaeda very much.'
'That was a mistake in our history. But it does not mean we did not have a point. The Church is not as devoted to Allah as they rightfully should be, and perhaps it is up to us to correct them somewhat.'
'From a Rugby League player who plays for the Mongrel Bulldogs that is a bold claim.'
'Yet my claim it is,' said Hosannuel.
'Then tell me of your plot, and I will consider the issue,' replied Gilgadel. And Hosanneul started filling him in on diabolaklycity of his new intentions.
* * * * *
Hosannuel got the exec toilet key, used the toilet, didn’t understand the fuss, and got on with the job. First things first, he began his plans with Gilgadel for teaching Christianity a lesson with its tritheistic tradition. Technically they no longer much claimed God was actually triune in nature, and that the Father was the true God. But the focus on God, Jesus and the work of the Holy Spirit, to Hosannuel, still had a slightly idolatrous tinge to it. So he planned with Gilgadel to teach them a lesson on how foolish it was to place too much trust in man. It was and idea which would embarrass Jesus, certainly. Essentially a grand set up. To place him on the world stage, the great miracle worker for angel and mankind, and set him up to do the impossible kinds of miracles his faithful adherents swore by. Hosannuel knew better. Jesus only got authority from God, and in his own opinion the man from Nazareth never really fulfilled the messianic prophecies properly, no matter what Christian argued. So the plan was to put him on the spot, have words with the Theophany about Hosannuel’s rights in the Realm of Eternity to have no great spiritual shenanigans take place, and teach his younger Cherubim brother a lesson about tom foolery and coming clean. Certainly, in the end, a lesson he felt the Church needed to know.
Apart from that he was now to get on with his new work. He’d set up some plans involving the establishment of Arabic learning institutes in key universities around the Realm. They’d hadn’t had as many opportunities to gain access to many key positions in the Realm of Eternity so far due to the particular other faiths which had preceded him as overseer. So now he would work and achieve what key contributions Islam could make for the Realm of Eternity and, apart from that, get on with his regular job as overseer. There would also be work with the Bulldogs, and special matches involving the team. Other things to, bubbling away at the back of his mind, and, as Cindradel came up to his desk, placed a bunch of files in front of him and said ‘Enjoy’ he sighed, picked up the first file, and got on with things. A bulldogs work was never done.
* * * * *
Terry Lamb was a regular Bulldog. Also a Magpie at times, for he started with the Western Suburbs, but mainly the dogs was his thing. He and Hazem El Masri had entered into a Rugby League Books publishing company partnership. They published official reviews of Bulldogs games played around the universe. There were many constraints on legal copyright these days, for much of the knowledge had come and gone long ago with various writers and publishers. They worked with a traditional syntax collective formula, which they had legal rights to use in paragragph structures and official registered nouns. The various publications flowed through the typical dialogue, but the variants for each new edition were always distinct enough in their own right and, one thing they always did was reflect the current era of play, and the stylings and gameplay which was at work. In the knowledge of copyright it was form which was usually regarded as the main avenue of interest. Form was judged by various critics as represented by differing time periods, but it was usually the current generation which defined form. Judgments for the length of the generation were handled by 17 official bodies, one from Home, one from the Realm of Infinity, one from the Realm of Eternity, and the rest on the early established planetary bodies. With current form you had your temporal publications, which were not legally allowed to be transmogrified through prayer into Eternya. There was an archive, though, officially, for all temporal publications, which was delivered by mail to the children of heaven, and collected and archived by the Theophany of God in his personal archives, which were infinite in storage. Everything was indeed kept, and could be accessed if necessary in hard format. Form presented the dialogue of the current generation being reviewed, which provided a focus for trainers, coaches and players to improve and sharpen their game for the current games of the seasons played. Differing thoughts on the degree of success which should be aimed at flowed freely these days. Attempting to in every game, or every grand final, was a rare concept. The amount of effort required to achieve that on an ongoing basis was accepted as extremely difficult as energy would be expended, and others would naturally rest their mental, physical and spiritual resources for a while, before being strong enough to have another go. But that was life. Most people were familiar well enough with those concepts now. The real gameplan was the subtle ways to try and improve at the game to give you a slight long term success over the competition, and have an improved effort all things considered. Being the best wasn’t about winning all the games. It was being at the top of the pie chart in percentage of games won compared to the other teams. And that was a hard fight, with clubs with their own traditional styles, gameplans, knowledge, culture and history. For the Eels to attempt to play Penrith style, sure, you could do it. For a few seasons it was even something entertaining to watch. But get serious. That was fake. That was copycat behavior, and as lame and trite as fuck. Do it on your own strengths and efforts, or fuck right off. There were unwritten rules, which you could disobey, but you weren’t considered much if you did. One thing was true, though. They all played Rugby League. And the public all watched Rugby League games.
* * * * *
Gilgadel looked at the wood he had arranged. The crafting tools were there, by the side of the pile of wood. Time to organize. Carefully he placed them at appropriate places in his new workshop, steadily working as the day passed. By mid-day all the tools and crafting machinery had found its place, and he was looking at the pile of wood. His wife came and served him some salad and tuna on a plate for lunch, and he sat eating his meal, looking at the wood.
‘A boat, I guess,’ he finally said to himself. ‘May as well build a boat.’ The wood had been ordered and the new workshop established for Gilgadel’s new carpentry projects. He hadn’t yet formulated what those projects would be, as he wanted to keep his options open, but the wood of various kinds had been ordered and he was thinking it over.
His wife spoke up. ‘So what are you going to build then?’
‘A boat, of sorts,’ replied Gilgadel. ‘With a giant St George Dragons logo placed on it. To annoy Hosannuel.’
‘Very amusing,’ she replied.
He ate his meal, staring at the wood. Some new style of design could be interesting, or a classic approach. He felt, in the end, he would approach it with a new design. Something of latter eras of boat design, when designers were starting to get creative and think differently. Most styles had been done now, so he would consult with his internet and look for an appropriate design, and order in a copy of it, and work with that. Why build? Something to do with his hands. He’d done all sorts of things over his many years of life, but he wanted to work with his hands now and do physical work of a challenging kind. Carpentry ended up the choice. He might challenge Hosannuel to build a response, but he would undertake his own project regardless of whether Hosanneuel rose to the challenge or not. He was not exactly inspired, or anything like that. Just looking to work on his skills and his strength in life. To do some more demanding physical labour and develop himself and his endurance qualities in life. Carpentry would do. He would see what would come of it.
* * * * *
On the edge of the river. Hosannuel stood on the edge of the river. A river, called the Molonglo, in Canberra. Looking at the water. It was after match day, and the Bulldogs had played the raiders, and he was in town still. Standing at the edge of the river, looking at the water. His past was like that river. It flowed on downstream, only to be replaced by new water which brought in new life every moment. He guessed it depended on where you were on the river which symbolized your living experience. People traversed the river. Up and down. Across. That was like life. You went with the flow at times, and let life take you were it would, and sometimes you stood still and just let life pass you by, and sometimes you went upstream to make the life you wanted happen. To affect the river of life. And if you climbed the mountains to its source, you controlled what went into the river. And that is what Hosannuel knew he needed to be as overseer. The river of thought and action for the Realm of Eternity during his time in the job. He would have to set the pace, set the agenda, be something which was influential in deciding the affairs of the realm and the state of the game at hand. And doing that he knew he needed to be aware of the competition. Every bulldog knew they needed to be aware of the competition. For rivalries were fierce, even in one’s own club.
He watched the river flow, and then got off, back to his car, back to his hotel. Soon the flight back to Zaphona city, and on with the job. Setting the pace. He called Cindradel into his office.
‘Next week. Have all the television stations go off air for a full day. Have them announce it, and then do it,’ said Hosannuel.
‘And why?’ asked Cindradel.
‘Citizens should devote time to studying their library of books. This is an official decree. Make it so. Draw up the documents.’
‘Will do,’ assented Cindradel, and got off to her task.
Hosannuel sat at his PC and brought up Ultima 47. He was well into his quest. He needed to find the ‘Scroll of the Yellow Witch’, so set the Avatar to work, and got on with things. Another busy afternoon RPGing. An overseers work was never done.
* * * * *
‘What is old is young. And what is young is old,’ said Sadryel, the 13th born Seraphim female to her twin Hosannuel.
Hosannuel nodded, and continued eating his meal. They were in the overseers executive department in Zaphon tower, Sadryel having come over for the night to share a meal.
‘The 13th Overseer of Zaphon has been around millions of years,’ said Sadryel. ‘And is very old. But as Overseer of the Realm of Eternity is very young. A brand new life which is young, but, of course, very old.’
Hosannuel smiled at that commentary on his Seraphim Torah principle and continued eating.
‘Have you visited Pelnaphon much in your time here?’ she asked him. ‘Usually you are too busy out on your own disc to bother these days. Elenniel has many new works on display.’
‘I’ll look into it,’ replied Hosannuel. ‘Many plans at the moment, and while I always enjoy the arts, I have work to do. Somebody has to make plans and accomplish things in this job.’
‘Building on your predecessors? Or doing something new?’ she asked him.
‘I’m traditional enough. You know that well. Islam will be a bit of a focus, naturally. Other things as well. Surprises every now and then. Nothing to monumental though. Mostly a calm enough continuance of tradition and orderly life. Why would I do it any other way. I don’t think the Realm of Eternity is looking for much more than steady continuity at this stage, so that is what I will mostly offer. Mostly,’ replied Hosannuel.
‘Then you are wise indeed,’ replied Sadryel.
‘I have an interest in publishing an old collection of poems I have had for a long time,’ he said. ‘Rachel the Cherubim has agreed to review the work and write an article for poetry.hev. It should sell well and be a good introduction to my thinking for the citizens of the realm.’
‘Always good for people to get a proper understanding of the overseers style,’ replied Sadryel. ‘Again, very wise.’
Hosannuel smiled. They ate in silence for a while, and when he was finished he put on some classical music, and they sat, next to each other, quietly, drinking orange juice, and listening to the music. They’d been together on an off many times, but mostly were settled as a standard twinning friendship. It worked. Nothing much more need be said.
‘You’ll visit again?’ he asked her when the night was finished.
‘I’ll finish again Hazem,’ she said. And she looked at him, reached out and kissed him on the cheek, and left. Hosannuel smiled. She was ever the lady.
* * * * *
Time came. Time went. The Bulldogs kicked ass. That was life.
was Moabite in origin. Moab was the tribe descended from Lot, along
with their brother tribe of Ammon. Lot was Abraham’s
What that meant for Ruth was that she was of the Hebrew people, like Abraham. Hebrews were named after ‘Eber’ who was 14th in the line of Adam, through Shem. Eber had developed the Hebrew language when the nations of the world were divided at the time of Babel.
As a Hebrew Ruth still enjoyed a favoured position amongst the Israelite community. Hebrews were treated as a distinct group amongst the children of Noah, with their own tradition of peculiar Noahide faith. God had chosen Abraham amongst the Hebrew people, and had worked for a long time to develop a holy Hebrew culture. Eber was a figure of rest – the second Sabbath. Enoch represented the first Sabbath, being seventh in the line of Adam, and the growing religious community of the ‘Branch of Enoch’ was becoming more and more important in the spiritual affairs of mankind. Enoch was rest, as was Eber. Of course, the third Sabbath of rest belonged to Isaac, and Isaac’s seed was Edom and Israel, two quarrelling brothers. Exodus 4:22 taught that Israel was God’s son, so in a sense, as the third Sabbath, Isaac typed God, being the human father of the entire people of Israel.
Of course, Ruth had accepted the people of Israel as her special people, having been Bat Mitzvahed. But Eber had worked for a very long time now, and had gradually been wooing Ruth to come and join her family for some Hebrew celebrations. So, as she and Boaz drove along to the capital city of Androma, known as Androvon, Ruth was looking forward very much to the Hebrew gathering and again meeting her great-grand-father to a number of generations, Eber.
‘We should be there soon,’ commented Boaz. ‘I guess you are probably excited.’
Ruth was looking out the window, staring at the cows in the fields and the countryside scenery on the outskirts of Androvon.
‘Oh, you know Boaz. Exciting is one word, but not quite. More happy. Quietly happy to see the family once more.’
‘So many Hebrews in one place. There should be a law against it,’ said Boaz with a smirk on his face.
‘Very funny,’ responded Ruth.
As they drove, though, Ruth really was quite excited. As Boaz put it, so many Hebrews under one roof. It was something to greatly look forward to, and her heart anticipated the friendships she had already made and the new ones which would come forth.
looked up at the giant banner. ‘Hebrews of Androma –
Annual Gathering’. It was splayed over the vast entrance the
giant conference centre, and the carpark had been full of cars and
Hebrews, all chatting merrily as they made there way to the
Ruth didn’t really recognize anybody, but there were many looks at herself and you could hear the odd voice saying ‘That is Ruth, isn’t it.’
They made there was inside and Boaz noted they had arrived about on time for the first day’s celebrations, 3 in the afternoon. It was informal chit-chat until 6 when dinner was served, following that a night of celebration, song and feasting – a true Hebrew celebration.
When they came to the reception area for the main hall a lady quickly came and introduced herself and guided them to one of the head tables. They were both known from face and obviously expected.
Ruth found herself chatting to one of Eber’s grand-daughters and her Jewish husband and she was fast becoming friends with her.
As 5.30 ticked over Eber finally arrived and everyone shouted his name. Shortly he made his opening speech.
‘Family, children. Here we are again. This celebration has been going on for so long now, but we are really now starting to become quite popular. It seemed that for so long we were viewed as essentially either Jewish or Noahide by the mainstream community, but knowledge of our special place in the heart of God is becoming more and more widespread throughout the universe. We are the Hebrews. A special people, fathers of the Abrahamic faiths, and an important part of the plans of El Shaddai. This gathering, ages old now, has seen endless speeches on the importance of Hebrew faith and its place in the world, so I won’t go over any old territory this time. I just want to welcome you all here and remind you of our special guest who we haven’t seen for a few centuries. Ruth is with us once again, so I would ask you all to give her a warm applause and welcome her to our celebration.’
The Hebrews all clapped warmly and there whistles and voices yelling ‘Way to go Ruthie,’ and the like.
‘Now, let us get on with our dinner and enjoy the night. There will be plenty of dance and song, and plenty of feasting for us all to enjoy the pleasures that God provides for us.’
The master of ceremonies appeared, signalled for the band to begin, and the night got under way. It was traditional Hebrew fair, and there was a warm buzz around the hall, all terribly excited to be in each other’s company again, enjoying the celebration of peculiarly Hebrew culture.
what is the meaning of life, dear Eber?’
The father of the Hebrews, steadily consuming his fourth draft of ale for the evening, considered Boaz’s question.
‘People often like to complicate something which, really, is incredibly simple dear Boaz. Good food, good women, good song. That sums it up.’
Should I ask the band to sing ‘Wine, Women and Song?’ queried Boaz, a subtle grin on his face.
‘Very funny,’ responded Boaz.
‘Surely there is more for you blessed men than chasing us of the fairer sex. What about God and faith and loving your neighbour and so on? The truths of Torah?’
‘Which all have the purpose of facilitating a greater diet. The more friends you have the more potential cooks at dinner time.’
Ruth smirked at Eber’s sarcasm.
‘You can not possibly be serious,’ she said.
‘But isn’t that, in the end, when we complain the most, dearest Ruth? When we are starving?’
‘I suppose,’ she replied.
‘Oh, I know life is full of all sorts of wondrous things to keep ourselves busy with. An endless supply of movies, CDs, books and shows all to entertain us. Board games, computer games, hobbies and work. All of those things are important too. But have you noticed just how important the nightly meal really is. A time to savour good food and sit down and reflect on the day’s hustle and bustle. That is why a good wife who can cook well is so vitally important, and I recommend strongly to all my sons to find a wife who can cook well.’
‘A bit sexist, don’t you think Eber? We have modernised somewhat from those older value.’
‘Not all of us, grand-daughter. Take Noah. He is totally entrenched in the ancient ways. Won’t budge from them, so he tells me. They were values which worked. Were people knew their roles and could delight in them. Oh, naturally, I understand feminism and all the objections of so many women for a greater place in society, but the traditional old ways work well simply because they just do. They are natural, and men aren’t trying to lord it over women. It is the simple way we are as people.’
‘I suppose,’ responded Ruth. ‘But we aren’t stupid, you know.’
‘Believe me dear Ruth, I am patently aware of that fact. Anyway,’ he said, lifting his ale glass. ‘To Ruth, for her feminine wisdom.’ The table lifted their glasses and Ruth accepted the compliment with true feminine grace.
Later that night, when the dancing had mostly died down, and the band were playing requests, it was a sombre and happy mood over the gathering. Ruth was feeling, truly, loved. So many had come and introduced themselves to her, asking of her welfare and lifes fortunes, and she had quite a number of new email contacts. She could imagine, perhaps, coming again next year, but probably not. It was such a hectic time and needed so much reflection later on, that she could only come irregularly. She needed time to think on her Hebrew faith and fitting it into her Jewish community. Sure, she had reconciled the two, and was a firm child of Israel. But her Hebrew roots would not let her go and, in her heart, she knew she would never let them go either.
Sitting there, the band playing on, she looked at her husband, winked at him, and took another sip of champagne in a night which would be in her heart for many years to come.
they drove along home, steadily making their way back to Paradision,
Ruth looked out the window. Her mind was alive with some of the words
of Eber, in the way he seemed to sum up everything about life in his
conversations with her. The simplicity of life, he had stressed. It
could be as complicated as you wanted it to be, or again, as simple
as you wanted it to be. But there were certain constants. You needed
food, clothing and shelter. The basic needs of life. Fortunately on
Televere these things were technically available at no cost if you
were in difficult circumstances. It was a mandatory part of the law –
you would be provided for eternally if you were incapable of looking
after yourself or found yourself in difficult circumstances from time
to time. They provided for all their citizens and you had safety in
Televere. Eternal safety.
Yet, work was likewise obligatory on top of this when you were capable. It was not demanding work, and the economy flowed well. There were privileges for long service, and much flexibility in having time off if things came up which people wanted to devote themselves to for a while.
And, after that, life filled itself in with entertaining things to do and enjoyable places to go. It all took care of itself in the end, in the words of Eber.
Ruth supposed that that was pretty much what life was all about. Filling it in with nice things to do and being happy about it all. God had provided his religious teaching to ensure a strong commitment to kindness and love, which brought joy to the heart. And of course angelicdom had been created for humans to be able to enjoy a superlatively spiritual environment, as found in the realms of Infinity and Eternity and so one, from time to time. Really, it seemed as if most issues were addressed.
And really, it was as simple as that, Ruth thought to herself. Life could be as simple as you wanted it to be or as complex as you wanted it to be. It all depended on you. And, of course, the icing on the cake was finding a partner, a love interest, someone to share your passions, your love, your life with. She looked at her husband Boaz, driving along, perhaps noticing her gaze, but comfortable with her after their aeons long relationship. In him she had consolation – quiet consolation of a soul committed to the eternal. A man of God who would not mess around with her, but who would remain devoted, eternally as he so claimed, to her life and welfare. Really, life was complete in the partner she had found for herself.
And, lastly of all, her blessed children. They visited regularly, and emailed her all the time. Many of them on Televere, and many scattered here and there around the universe, building up their own lives, building up their own legacy. She was proud and thankful for each and every one of them. They were the final part of a life which was, as Ruth felt, complete. Every thing she needed was provided for, and she really, in truth, had no need to worry. No need to be concerned about the hustles and bustles of everyday life.
As she looked at the fields passing by she thought on all of that wisdom and, in a sudden spirit of true gratefulness, she mouthed a few quiet alleluias, and leaned over against her husband, enjoying the strong hands which were guiding her home.
Everything really was well in the life of Ruth. Everything was complete. And all that laid ahead was the future, still as yet unknown, still beckoning her onwards, ever onwards, in the exploration of that great and grand mystery of the thing called life. And she was ever truly grateful because of it.
(Or Morning Stars XIV)
Loquiel. One of my favourites. Always has been.
that explains why Jesus Christ is the son of the living god and why
revelation takes time. Sometimes quite some time. But thing’s
don’t fail in the end, and the word of God will have its
Later on that day Isaiah was speaking with Loquiel on some of the finer perspectives on the ethics of delusion, yet the generally agreed that what had been said so far was what should be said, and they left it at that. But the world was new again, renewed, born with a new hope, not like the older one, and on they marched, on to the days of glory which lay ahead. And Canada smiled and rested on its maple leaf flag, a simple flag, and Loquiel just laughed in his heart.
* * * * *
am not deluded, Loquiel,' said Jesus the Cherubim. 'I AM the son of
the Living God.'
'All God's children are his sons and daughters,' replied Loquiel politely. 'But dear brother Jesus, since the Realm was young and innocent, you have lived in a delusion of vainglory. You are just too proud to admit it and get over it. There, I said it. You would rather parade your own glory, rather than acknowledging the Creator alone and his sovereignty.'
'The Word within me knows the truth,' replied Jesus.
'You were never the Logos, and the Logos himself lives in his own delusion of equality with God. I have spoken with Samael of Infinity many times on this issue. Logos thinks memories of God within him somehow equate him with God. Those are memories God his sharing with his son. Nothing more. His Word is a Word of Authority over the Realm of Infinity, but, like yourself, it has gone to his head and he thinks himself divine. Or at the least did. You are mortal. You are fallible. Both of you. And that is how GOD made you.'
Jesus just stared at Loquiel for a while, and then said 'Fine. See it your way.'
'As I presume you will see it your own,' replied Loquiel sighing.
'Hosannuel has given you the executive toilet key I see,' said Jesus.
Hosannuel looked down at the key resting just in front of him on the Zaphon cafeteria table. 'Yes. Yes, he has. I haven't been to the office yet. I am just thinking things over. Thinking things through on some issues.'
'Don't take forever brother,' said Jesus, and stood, nodded at Loquiel, and wandered off.
Loquiel watched him go, and looked down at the key, but suddenly Ambriel sat down opposite him, with a glass of chilled Melit water, and began harping on about this and that. Canada was on his mind, and Jesus was on his mind, and his overseer position was on his mind, but he listened carefully to his brother anyway, and they chatted in understood tones of friendship as ancient as the Realm of Eternity itself.
* * * * *
Avril Lavigne was down by a creek, in a quiet part of Canada, in Terraphora. She was sitting there, watching the water trickle by. It was quiet time. Up the rise a bit was her caravan, were she lived at this time. It had carpet, or rugs more precisely, a bed, kitchenette area, and shelves for her clothes and things. She didn’t bother with an Internet connection at the moment, but did have her mobile. Couldn’t live without her mobile. She had a range of heavy metal T-Shirts, from bands like Alice Cooper, Bon Jovi, Quiet Riot, Dio, Poison, Def Leppard, Van Halen, Motley Crue, King’s X, Poisonblack, Evanesecence, House of Lords, Supershine, PGP, KXM, The Jelly Jam, Iron Maiden, Jerry Gaskill, Poundhound, The Down and Outz, British Lion, Helloween, Gamma Ray, AC-DC and a few other minors. She was cool. She had a friend from Canberra who called herself ‘Decadence’ who lived in a caravan park near Symonston. She rang her up occasionally, and Decadence would write letters to her, and write out some of her own lyrics suggesting Avril do songs with them. Avril lived a quiet life, but Evan Taubenfeld dropped around pretty regularly to check up on her. Evan was her bestie He never left long. The dick, Chad, was always up her arse when he could be. He would say ‘Fuck me baby’, and she would say ‘Dream on dickhead. Faithless fuck.’ And he would try and get into her pants, or pinch her butt, but she slapped that shit away and told him to get a life. But he visited pretty often, and they sat and listened to Nickelback and Simple Plan and Celine Dion, and occasionally watch ‘Logan’ and drink beer, and just be happy buds. He was cool was Chad. Said he would commit to being her eternal friend at the least. Wouldn’t commit to marrying her forever, but was a committed eternal friend. They’d worked a lot of shit out together. Tough times and good. Avril had put him into her ‘Eternity Little Black Book’. There were only 17 names so far in her Eternity Book. Names she’d committed to for accepting as friends eternally. She was wise, though. It took her thousands of years of considering that person before she would commit to allowing them in as eternal friends. I mean, come on, get serious. Eternity is forever. You never knew where eternal life could take you, but she committed to certain people eventually, once she was satisfied they had enough eternal life principles, and gave enough of a fuck about her, and enough of a fuck in general. Chad was cool. She liked him. He would do.
It was a quiet life - for the time being. For the time being, that would be enough. For the time being.
* * * * *
Loquiel had been busy that week, doing his work. He was stable, traditional, thoughtful and careful in his job. He listened to a lot of Canadian music in his office. Celine Dion, Avril Lavigne, Nickelback. Other artists, like Simple Plan. A steady hum of pop and rock throughout the executive offices to give some glory to Canada. He’d arranged a special ‘Triumph of Canada’ concert coming up in Zaphona City were those artists, and many others, would be present to celebrate all things Canuck. He would promote his culture, which was one of the main intentions in his time as overseer. To do a competent and traditional job, to bring ongoing stability to the Realm of Eternity, something he felt a responsibility to do, and to provide a good example for the populace to look up to. He thought back to Hosannuel’s reign, and the ultimate day of glory for Jesus the Christ, which hadn’t quite turned out the way the Church had hoped it would. Yet Loquiel knew his younger Cherubim brother was stubborn, so would take his time to teach Jesus some moral principles and remind him of the importance of Seraphim Torah tradition and a law abiding way of life. It was important to Loquiel that Jesus realize to free a spiritual life was not the best of ideas – administration had its place, and things needed to be adhered to and done according to procedures. There was certainly a human element involved in life, and Jesus knew this truth well enough, as did Loquiel from his long work in Zaphon doing such things. So Loquiel had decided to work with Jesus and impart his own wisdom with his new authority, and get a more balanced result for Christian members of the Realm of Eternity. And apart from that all the regular work he had to do.
He sipped on a glass of wine in his overseer executive apartment, flicked on the Realm TV, and relaxed, the weeks activities being put to rest in his mind, as life outside of him got on with its own things, and what dreams may come, well let them come
* * * * *
Ambriel and Loquiel were in the overseers office, playing chess.
‘I can verily defeat John Seer of Visions in chess,’ declared Ambriel confidently.
‘The boast is valiant, the truth of the matter is another issue,’ replied Loquiel. ‘He studies constantly, has well thought out strategy, and is unlikely to lose to a brag from the Messiah of Love.’
‘Love conquers all,’ replied Ambriel, looking at the board in front of him.
‘And effort put into study trumps it every time,’ replied Loquiel, and moved his piece. ‘Check, dimwit.’
Ambriel nodded. ‘I know. I saw that coming several moves ago. Not sure what I can do about it. I think you have me.’
‘We’ll call it a draw, then,’ replied Loquiel, and pushed the board aside. ‘Well, my young understudy. Art thou ready for your admission as Vice Overseer of the Realm of Eternity. It is a brand new position, and I am not sure if the tradition will catch on, but bragging points with Daniel the Seraphim are up for grabs, and you delight in putting him in his place.’
‘I have a new agenda,’ replied Ambriel. ‘Something to surely capture the imagination of the hearts of the Realm of Eternity.’
‘And the new agenda is?’ queried Loquiel, turning to the ancient computer screen.
‘Mice,’ replied Ambriel. ‘Time for a Mice craze.’
Loquiel looked at his younger Seraphim brother. ‘Costume parties, mouse races, mice based comics, cartoons, board games, toys, stuff like that?’
‘And studies on the habits of mice in nature, and everything under the son. I will be a mouse and not an angel,’ replied Ambriel. ‘I shall declare my humble mouse like agenda to all and sundry.’
‘I sense an air of retribution in those words,’ suggested Loquiel.
‘I am David. David’s do not bear grudges. Everyone knows David’s are the most forgiving of people. David’s always let go of grudges. Nay, it is a fond fascination with all things rodent which rules my heart. Nothing more.’
‘Sure it is,’ replied Loquiel. ‘Well, mice will do. Certainly original thinking.’
‘I’ll get stuck in as soon as possible,’ replied the 60th of the male Seraphim.
‘Cat’s could be an interesting inclusion,’ suggested Loquiel.
‘Don’t tempt me, master overseer,’ replied Ambriel, and stood and went off to pursue his vision.
‘Mice. How fascinating,’ said Loquiel to himself, and turned on the PC to the internet, and clicked on to the ‘M Rated Naughty Pictures for Adults’ website to while away the afternoon.
* * * * *
‘Avril. Do you know the secret truths?’ asked Even Taubenfeld. ‘As a son of Israel I have studied the Talmud. The Talmud is forbidden to non-Jewish people. They do not have the proper capabilities to understand the secret truths of the Talmud.’
‘Well I can tell you one of the secret truths of Canada. Go kiss your arse, Jew boy,’ replied Avril.
‘I am cut,’ replied Evan. ‘You know, it is actually impossible to kiss your own arse. Many rabbis have tried, but they continue to fail. Rabbi Schmuckenberg was recorded in the 18th century of having a fair crack at the crack, but confessed to his Reb that it seemed an unreachable frontier.’
‘Arse. The final frontier,’ replied Avril. ‘Ooh, lets watch Butt Bitch Whores again. They always crack me up. Don’t get ideas though, buster. I’m not easy.’
Evan sighed. ‘One of the secret truths of the Talmud is the abomination of anal sex. It is grievous error.’
‘I’ve heard rumours,’ replied Avril. ‘Little Jewish wenches from Vancouver have whispered things to me about certain members of the Taubenfeld clan.’
‘Vicious rumours,’ replied Evan ‘We deny them all.’
‘You don’t know the rumours,’ said Avril confidently.
‘We are not into the back passage,’ said Evan. ‘Uncle Eli got over that years ago.’
‘Get me a beer,’ she said.
‘Yes mistress,’ replied Evan, and disappeared into the caravan, soon returning with a fresh six pack.
‘The crudities of modern life are neverending,’ said Avril. ‘I think we continue to praise Eminem for his forward thinking.’
‘He changed life as we know it,’ replied Evan. ‘A cruder soul had not yet been born in humanity.’
‘And the Rabbis of Israel now contend with the wrath of Cain’s nemesis with cool and careful behavior, watching us to make inroads into our Empire, carefully targeting souls to enlighten them with the wisdom of Israel.’
‘It is challenging work,’ replied Evan. ‘Gentiles are thick.’
‘Still using the gentile sledge, huh,’ replied Avril. ‘Some things never go out of fashion Jew boy.’
‘Shut up and drink your beer,’ replied Evan.
And they sat, and drank, and watched the stars, as Nickelback continued to play in the background, the campsite fire burning down low on its coals, the night cool, but not too cool, Avril in her special place of paradise.
* * * * *
Loquiel examined the text. It was a work titled ‘The Hypocrisy in Religious People.’ He sat there, in his overseers office, reading the afternoon away. After 3 chapters he asked Cindradel to come to him. She promptly arrived.
‘You have nice makeup. But it is very unwomanly. Mostly a Jezebel wears makeup. I don’t mind if my twin has makeup, but you really look slutty wearing it,’ he said to Cindradel.
She looked at him, flabbergasted. ‘Uh, ok,’ she said softly. ‘Sorry Loquiel. I won’t wear it tomorrow.’
‘See that you don’t. Be excused underling.’
Cindradel nodded, and looked a little sad as she walked away.
‘Yep,’ gave Loquiel a mental tick. ‘Hypocrisy works well. They indeed respect the hypocrites.’
Cindradel came back into his office 10 minutes later. ‘Fuck you!’ she said to him. ‘Seriously, go fuck yourself.’
‘My my, the Jezebel is irate,’ replied Loquiel.
‘What? Have you suddenly become a jerk?’ she asked him, staring at him incredulously.
He looked at her, put his finger up and said ‘Just a sec,’ and referred to his book. He checked a passage and looked at her. ‘Now, Cindradel. I know you are trying to be a lady, but you fall short of the standards God expects of you. You are like whore Babylon in your worldly values. You need to repent. Only my own guiadance can save you from damnation.’
Cindradel continued staring at him in unbelief. Finally, ‘Show me the book, dirtbag.’
He presented her with the cover.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Nice try Canuck. I’ll get you back for that.’
‘Keep up the good work. You are a fine example of womanship,’ he said.
She gave him the finger as she left the room. Loquiel was happy with the energy suddenly in the room.
* * * * *
Avril looked at the big yellow Envelope. It was from the overseer of Zaphon’s office. Currently old Kelsey. The Seraphim Loquiel. She didn’t get mail much. Her record company was under strict orders to handle her crap. She was in a zone, and intended to remain in a zone, cut off from the real world, living a private life, enjoying the solitude she had gone without for so long, so busy had she been with touring for so long. But obviously life had made other plans, so she opened the envelope, and started going through the document.
‘Canada Glory Excelsia’ read the document on its cover, big blazing scarlet colours, with a maple leaf surrounding it. She started on the opening paragraph, and it became clear enough. Canada was the glory for Loquiel’s mission, and Canadians of fame, repute and iconic status were being called upon for their contribution to ‘Team Canda’ that they could make. She put down the document and thought it over. She was Canadian, true? Was that a big deal? No. No it wasn’t. She was Canadian, true? Was that a big deal? Of course it was a frikking big deal. Hell, she was a normal girl. She loved her country, but it was about the life of Avril Lavigne which mattered and what her country could do for her. But, in the end, she did watch those Commonwealth Games a bit, when Canada had the edge at times over England and Australia, which were always a hard fight at the Commonwealth games, and she did have a bit of national pride. Probably a normal and healthy amount any 21st century girl did and should have. But there was some. She looked at the document, at the suggested things that she could offer, and grabbed a pen. She ticked off some of the boxes of things she was prepared to commit to, and wrote in a number of sections the things she felt she might be able to contribute personally, and sealed the document in the envelope provided. She’d even bother to go into town tomorrow and mail it back right away.
She put the envelope on her cabinet, and looked out the window at the willow trees near the creek, and sighed. Life was cool, it was mellow country, and she was happy. But you still had to pay your dues, even when she’d paid up for an eternity as far as she was concerned. But old Wolfgang the Theophany probably judged her at Home one day, and said, no Avril. I have use for you still. So back in the limelight it would be, and another chapter in the life of Avril Lavigne.
* * * * *
'Maple Syrup. A gigantic vat of Maple Syrup,' said the angel Loganiel, 138th male Cherubim of Eternity.
Loquiel looked at his long term associate. 'Loggie. I am not sure being dumped into a giant vat of Maple Syrup is wise. Could get kind of sticky.'
'It will make a happy ending for the victor of 'Canadian Supreme'. We dump the glory of Canada, whoever that is, into a giant vat of Maple Syrup. Then we get divers in to rescue them and present them with a million year subscription of maple syrup and pancake mixture. It's classic. Every Canuck will be up for having a go,' insisted Loganiel.
'I am not sure why God appointed you as the Prince of Ottowa City in the end, said Loquiel. 'You are always coming up with wacky ideas. Hardly suitable for the Prince of the Nations Capital.'
'Hey. What's life if you can't live a little,' replied Loganiel.
'A hell of a lot more sane,' replied Loquiel. 'Ok. We'll run with it. It will be a grand and glorious climax to things. Should be great.'
'Of course, lots of prizes and other stuff for the top finishing performers. But this will require major coverage on Realm TV and sponsorship for every major company of the Realm. It's a total commit if we want to do our job properly. This should be the cornerstone of the 'Canada Glory Excelsia' project. The thing which defines it in the heart of the people. We can't leave them wondering if they had a decent show in the end. It has to be first class Loqquie. First class,' replied Loganiel.
'Of course, you are correct. Send me the details, and ensure the syrup is not too thick to cause any problems with suffocation, and we will run with the thing,' stated Loquiel.
'I'll get on to it right away,' said Loganiel, and disappeared from the Overseer's office.
Loquiel crunched his fingers, and looked at the primary document of Canada Glory Excelsia. They had a number of Major Programs now. Everything was going well. He was fulfilling his purpose, he felt, in promoting Canada, and giving the nation a focus at this time. It was each overseer's job in their own way to promote them and their own. He would not leave the people second guessing on his own effort.
* * * * *
Loquiel sat at the overseer's office desk, looking at figures on his PC. The 'Canada Glory Excelsia' project had gotten started, and things were off to a flying start. Time for Canada to have some glory.
‘Morning Stars: Cosadriel’
(Or Morning Stars XV)
Cosadriel. Yes, the kids love him. Quite the right choice at this time. Quite the right choice.
didn’t know who I was supposed to be, at fifteen.’
Cosadriel stopped the CD, looked through the window, and smiled to himself. They were happy again. They were happy. The church was restored, her faith intact, and the madness gone. Azrael had sworn he wasn’t an idiot, and Jude did nothing but keep the faith. For a googleplexian of years if I have to, okay. If I have to.’ And that seemed to satisfy them. Most anyway.
* * * * *
is the main reason we finally let go of the book. It was discussed
and discussed and discussed and, finally, if the tradition really did
last, and if it was meant to be, and if that particular viewpoint had
been correct all along, then the 26 seemed fine. But what lay ahead,
well nobody really knew for sure.’
We keep the book in Scotland,' replied Azrael to Cosadriel. 'You don't change the tradition of the New Testament in the Church of Scotland. We don't believe the New Testament in the Church of Scotland. But we don't change the tradition of it in the Church of Scotland.' Azrael grinned at Cosadriel.
'You're an idiot,' said Cosadriel.
'Takes one to know one,' replied Azrael.
'Jude is the wisdom of God, in the end. We need you guys to maintain old 27, but 26 is where wisdom ends and fantasy begins,' said Cosadriel. 'It's why you are mad, and I completely sane. You keep the faith, but it is a mad, mad faith.'
'Why I'm such a joker,' replied Azrael. 'Besides I'm a Catholic, not a Presbyterian.'
'Well, an Arian Catholic. Traditionalist Arian Catholic. Jesus is not the Messiah, and I acknowledge it, but I keep the Arian Catholic tradition now, and ways of doing things.'
'That I did not know,' replied Cosadriel. 'When did this come to pass?'
'I needed roots in my Christian tradition which weren't Trinitarian roots. Hosannuel made it clear the spirit of much of the Church wasn't right. It was idolatrous to try and maintain Churches founded on false thinking about God. I didn't argue that much with him in the end. I considered the Jehovah's Witnesses for a while, but the Arian Catholics approached me, and I accepted fellowship with them.'
'They keep the biblical feasts, don't they?' asked Cosadriel.
'That they do. And I keep them somewhat. I think it is likely that is where I will settle my eternal roots. Probably most likely.'
'Time will tell on that,' sighed Cosadriel, and lifted up his glass of beer and drank the dregs down.
'That it will,' agreed Azrael. 'That it will.'
* * * * *
‘So, you scurvy ridden sod. Lord of Icelandic Lunacy, how fare ye?’ queried Azrael, from behind his work bench in his garage, in a place in the Realm of Eternity.
‘Doing fine,’ relied Cosadriel, looking at Azrael build a bookcase. ‘Carpentry, huh?’ queried Cosadriel. ‘Didn’t think that was your thing.’
‘Oh, you know. Comedy is a gig, and it pays the bills. But I invested in collecting a few books on carpentry aeons ago, and have decided to go into a private business making Azrael Bookcases, and selling them on my website. Orders come from all over the Realm, and with Fast-Del I can have the bookcases most places in the Realm within a week. I pay attention to the quality of the product, and work it hard. A proper job. Socttish professionalism,’ replied Azrael.
Cosadriel looked at the other bookcases in the garage that Azrael had built. They were coloured in paint, of various colours, some with designs and things.
‘Artistry old man?’ queried Cosadriel.
‘Something to do. Kwintakel does some of the work, and I have a go. Something different to do. They are usually always painted custom jobs,’ replied Azrael.
‘Get paid much?’ queried Cosadriel, taking out a ciggie and lighting it.
‘I auction them on eBay. Usually get high prices on my name, as you would imagine. Low cost, huge return. A simple enough way to make cashola,’ replied Azrael.
‘Looks interesting,’ said Cosadriel, sitting down on the green couch. He smoked his ciggie and looked out at the clouds. ‘Rain soon,’ he said.
‘One of those days,’ replied Azrael, continuing on with his sanding work.
Cosadriel looked at the work Azrael was doing. ‘Want a partnership? We could go into business on this. Work as a team. Work hard for a while and get a lot of product done. Show some good work ethics for a while.’
Azrael looked up at him. ‘Yeh. Why not. Set a good example for the community. Do some work, and not always take the easy options on our cash.’
‘Pretty much,’ replied Cosadriel. ‘I’ve been on cruise control a long while now, but time to pay some dues. Do some legit work and earn some real money.’
‘Sounds good,’ replied Azrael, who stood, and stretched and looked at his buddy. ‘You can find some overalls just over there. That bookcase needs painting. Go wild and do a cool design. No time like the present to get stuck in.’
Cosadriel finished off his ciggie, put the but into his ciggie box, and put on the overalls and thought about a design. Soon enough he was painting, and enjoying the work. Work was usually like that – good for the soul. Happy, he was. Hanging with his best bud, and doing something productive. Life was good.
* * * * *
Amy Lee was a cutie. Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly always recognized Amy Lee was a cutie. So he prayed to God. ‘God. If it came down to it, let me, Callodyn and Daniel live forever, and have that Amy Lee chick hang around also. She’s pretty hot.’ And God smiled that day, and had a chat with Aphrayel, the Child of Heaven, whose role was death.
Daniel was busy these days. Cosadriel had been freshly installed as Overseer, and had appointed Azrael as his right hand man in the job. Cindradel had been given an award, shown on Realm TV, for outstanding long term service to the Realm and declared, in many ways, the girl who really was in the know and had it going on. Daniel smiled at that. He might have to chase up Cindradel one day and look into her gained wisdom. It was standard days of heaven, these day, for Daniel. The ANM project was proceeding as usual, and his grand-son Daniel the Seraphim kept him informed on the goings on of the DanVal agenda. Life was good. He was involved with Catan boardgaming regularly at the moment, playing it at a board games group in his locality. He was fine tuning his knowledge of the various strategies you could use in the game, working out the general statistical probabilities of the game, and when and which strategy was best to apply, staying focused on the state of play of the game, always making necessary adjustments if and when required. It was absorbing study, and kept him busy for this time in his life. He had relationship status with certain people, but he didn’t like to disclose that information publicly terribly much. Apart from that was his technical requirements of service to God as the 228th Cherubim Realm of Eternity, and he did most of his work in that role with a part-time job he worked at cafeterias in various of the realm keeps. He was technically employed by Kaladel as Zaphon Keep cafeteria, were he would collect the dirty dishes and take them to the kitchen, were others would clean them, as he didn’t like washing up. It wasn’t difficult work at all, really, just minor duties, with not much required. He’d had an arrangement with God that he would keep his hand on the pulsebeat of the ANM and guide it steadily from the influence he had as the founder of the movement, and that was mostly were his responsibilities ended. Nothing much else was required in work responsibilities, as he had sufficient income of his own, so God allowed him the slack. Amy Lee and Evanescence were on his current play list, and he was hanging around the Angel Jovius quite a bit, an angel on the dark side of the light side, or perhaps the other way around, and they chatted about this and that, and listened to heavy metal, and got on with their lives. His current plan was mastery of Catan to various degrees of skill, but he was not dedicated to pursuing the official top ranking. Too much bother. He wanted to be good at the game, and enjoy winning as much as he could, but who gave a damn about losing anyway, when it was part of life, and gave glory to others. What kind of schmuck were you if you couldn't hack being down the list a bit. Generally, pride tried to rise to the top. Problem with Babel Builders. They set their aim to number one and wouldn’t accept anything else. It didn’t really matter in the end, such an attitude. You set your goal towards happiness – not towards pride. And then there were critics who suggested you hang and associate with various people who had similar stations and class levels in life, and that if you were humble, hang with the humble. All of the pride-humility system, all of it was pride in the end. People were proud of being proud, and lowly people were proud of being humble. They were all on an ego trip. All had to be some sort of extreme, without finding a decent sort of balance in life. His own philosophy was Gloryel’s wisdom. It is important not to take life too seriously. Lighten up and just chase the glory for the hell of it and if it came, all well and good, and if it didn’t, such was life. Life went on anyway, keep the faith, and enjoy the ride. It was eternity, so at the beginning he summed it up as chase the truth, for people will acknowledge the truth in the end, and get the glory of number one on the truth, and he’d gotten that by being the official Karaite Noahide faith founder, so he had his glory, and that was eternal, and that would do. So you didn’t need to chase the glory anymore in Daniel’s knowledge – he had it. People had to get it from him. So he didn’t give a damn. Run with the fun, and let the power people play their power games, and do what you wanted to do. So he did what he wanted to do, and let his life be what it would be. And when people told him to live by what he claimed, he told them he would serve God and do what God told him to do, and that he would contradict what he said himself if he wanted to do so, just to piss them off, but that he would tell them to go blow, and admit he had contradicted himself, and then he would deny he had contradicted himself, and then he would mess with them, and if they asked for the truth he would tell them that two plus two equals four, and then he would go off for a wank watching porn, and not give the slightest damn. Fuck em all.
And Amy Lee was hot, so chasing her could be fun. But he preferred Taylor Swift in the long term anyway.
* * * * *
Cosadriel looked at his New Testament. 26 books of the New Testament, ending with Jude. He had spoken with his younger cherubim brother Jesus, the Christ, the other day, on the issue. Jesus had said to him that God works in mysterious ways, and the doctrinal truths that Cosadriel's own Christian Church represented were a religion for another time and another place.
'In the end, when Love rules, it is not even Christianity anyway,' Jesus had said to him. 'God is love, and love is what will rule us all and the life which flows naturally from love. When you love people you don't try and harm them or do them ill will. Love is the law of the heart which solves all the problems anyway. Whether it is 26 books or 27, in the end the New Commandment that I give unto you is that you love one another as I have loved you.'
Cosadriel instantly saw the wisdom in that idea. Then Seraphim Daniel showed up.
'It will never be practical. People don't believe in love as absolute, and when they do become loving in time, believe me they need greater and greater legalism because of ambition. Don't ever think ambition isn't eternal. Believe me buddy it is. It is the primal heart of the life instinct. Love is for grandmothers and doting uncles, who really just want to nail their cute niece in the end anyway. You keep a sense of love in your family, but it is never how the real world is going to work. People have an ordinary quality about them which calls that stuff bullshit in the end. Jesus is in cloud nine, mate. Nothing more than that.'
And Cosadriel, summing up his well developed sense of Sporticus-like responsibility eventually concluded after a few weeks of solid soul-searching that Daniel was speaking some of the facts of life. So today, he looked at his copy of the New Testament of his denomination, and then put it into the attic shelf of books to be stored away for permanent keeping, but not ones for day to day living. And then he left the attic, returned to his regular abode, and as Oshanel kissed him and said she loved him he remembered just then what normal love was all about, and dismissed his christian fascination as bubbly enthusiasm from a younger generation of life.
* * * * *
Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly looked at the dirty plates. 'Here we go again,' he said to himself, as he started collecting dirty plates after lunch that day in Zaphon cafeteria. There were a few as well. When they were all on the trolley he rolled it into the kitchen and stacked them on the sink, were others would take them and was them. The work was only minor duties, so when that was done he went off to Zaphon library and studied for the afternoon. But he did the work again that evening after dinner, and then he had to clean the kitchen mats by washing them down outside to keep them clean for the following day. When that was done Kaladel checked his work, nodded that he could leave, and he took the elevator up to the room he rented in Zaphon tower, and went into his room looking out over Zaphona city, put on a CD, and relaxed in his sofa chair, watching the city, and letting Orianthi take him away in her musical delights. This was life. He had about 15 years currently on his duties at Zaphon before he could take a break again. There was a knock at the door.
'Lourdes!' he exclaimed. His cherubim twin.
'Hey,' she said. He let her come in. 'Here is the CD,' she said, passing him a copy of a Madonna CD. It was something he'd had custom ordered from Lourdes mother, Madonna. A personal ordering of some of Madonna's songs, with artwork he had provided himself. Madonna had had the album produced for him, and Daniel had the only copy apart from a archived copy Madonna had insisted she kept. There was no original material on it, just a compilation CD Daniel had designed himself.
'She'll expect several million realm credits for the work. Just pay her a suitable amount when you can,' said Lourdes.
'Thanks Lola,' said Daniel.
'Seeya,' she replied, and left.
Daniel took out the Orianthi CD and put on his new CD 'Madonna – Lovey Dovey Stuff'. He sat there, on his chair, listening to the best of Madonna, 12 songs, according to his own choices and song ordering. And the evening turned and he fell asleep, not even having eaten, he was that zonked.
* * * * *
Cosadriel farted. Azrael did not comment. Cosadriel belched. Azrael did not comment. Cosadriel snorted snot over the garage floor. Azrael, finally, looked at his Icelandic compatriot.
'You know, when they made the picts and the celts, Jehovah said to himself, aye, scurvy scumbags the lot of them. But when he made the Vikings and Scandinavians, and especially the Icelandics, he commented that he now had a way of making even Scotland look civilized.'
Cosadriel, chewing on his gum, stared at Azrael for a moment. And then another moment, And then yet another moment. And then he returned to sawing wood, just shaking his head.
'Bookcase 87. They were up to bookcase 87 and table 49. Azrael was handling the more simple tables now, and his work was significantly slower. 'He was putting greater effort in,' he maintained. 'Far more attention to detail.' Factually the products were both of excellent standard, about the same level of first class quality. Cosadriel had more current experience, and was pushing himself. Azrael had marked off a chalkboard. One column with Cosadriel's bookcases and one column with Azrael's table. They would rub off the number and write the new nubmer in. Each effort had to be checked by the other for quality of workmanship and genuine completion of the task, and then they would check it was exactly numerically the next number in the Numberbet which they would write themselves and then both enjoy a beer and a smoke. And that is how they had been going at it for several months.
'Of course, uless you end up doubling me at the end of the million years, it is just an average effort,' said Cosadriel. 'I reckon those tables I can do in about half the time it takes me one of these bookcases. You agree?' asked Cosadriel.
Azrael spit on the ground and sipped on his can of beer. 'Aye. Sounds about right.'
'Shall we call that the test of the winner? If you double me and add one then you are the superior craftsman. And if I come out on top I win.'
Azrael offered his hand. 'You have a deal or Robbie Rotten can bed me twin Kwintakel.'
'He's been asking too,' replied Cosadriel.
'Why you little,' but Azrael could see Cosadriel's grin.
'The end date will be one million years to the date I began as overseer. So there will be no attempts at cheatings or delays by myself. All the work to be done here, every single item checked one by one and verified by us both,' said Cosadriel.
'Let the war between Scotland and Iceland begin,' declared Azrel.
And they watched each other like hawks thereafter.
* * * * *
Cosadriel looked back, and was happy. A million years spent well, bookcases and table galore built with Azrael, some hard work done, a satisfactory record. On we go. Iceland forever.
‘Morning Stars: Kelkuriel’
(Or Morning Stars XVI)
As we wait for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. For the age to come is not that which has been, and the age to come is an age of glory. And what went before will be gone, and the life of the new world will remain with us.
the first time in the Rabbi’s life he considered their
perspective. ‘Interesting, father. Interesting. But does it
really affect us? Does it really?’
‘I think you will see in destiny that it seems to be what is meant to happen. Every dog has its day, every craving needs something to fill it, and Jesus is dedicated. It just seems to be in the end.’
‘I’ll consider it. This has been a long debate, but I’ll consider it. We’ll get back to you.’
* * * * *
Kelkuriel, Kelkuriel. Whatever in heaven and on earth are we going to
do with the angel Kelkuriel?'
'Start by cutting out the cute Icelandic humor and hand over that ruddy key,' said Kelkuriel to Cosadriel, sitting in the cafeteria of Zaphon.
Kaladel stood there, behind the ancient serving trolley, with the cake. It had a brightly burning candle on it, and Gabriel and Raphael were by her side, looking at Cosadriel.
'He's stubborn,' said Gabriel to Kelkuriel. 'The bastard has enjoyed his power and privilege. I doubt he's likely to want to give up the job.'
'I think he wants to take his technical choice and prolong his time,' said Raphael.
'No,' said Cosadriel. 'A million years is enough. I just want to see this Austrian bastard squirm a little.'
'Now squirming,' replied Kelkuriel, looking at the cake. 'I'll have a piece now,' he said to Kaladel.
'Not until he hands over the key,' replied Kaladel.
'Bugger,' replied Kelkuriel. The cake looked nice. Nice icing.
Gabriel and Raphael sat down, next to the trolley. Gabriel looked at the cake. 'She spent a long time on it. Worked the mixture to perfection,' he said.
'I slaved,' said Kaladel proudly. 'The finest of ingredients also. Took me weeks of preparation.'
'Mmmm,' said Kelkuriel, looking at the cake.
'Let me have the biggest piece,' said Cosadriel, and I'll hand over the key.'
'You're a shit,' said Kelkuriel.
'And I intend to do a big one with that cake,' replied Cosadriel.
'Fine. Have the biggest piece,' said Kelkuriel.
'I'll have a quarter,' said Cosadriel. Kaladel cut him a quarter of the cake.
'There you go buddy,' said Cosadriel, flicking the key to Kelkuriel, as he hooked into his cake.
'I hope you get indigestion,' said Kelkuriel, as Kaladel passed him a piece. 'And a tummy ache.'
Cosadriel just grinned back.
Later on, having enjoyed his cake and latte, Kelkuriel was in the overseers office. Cindradel had pointed him to the PC with the current tasks, and the icon which gave the basic explanation of duties he had, which he clicked on, and read the document for. It had taken a while, and he was now ready to begin. The mark he would make? Every overseer made one. But he had it in mind old Phanuel's ideas. To promote his own keep of Selphoraphon, in Selphora, the 16th disc of the Realm, and its specialty of Woodturning, linked directly to Romnaphon Keep and Romnaphon tradition. Phanuel had done that idea well, and Kelkuriel aimed to follow Phanuel's ideas and traditions. Continuity and consistency. The heart of what Kelkuriel was on about. As for what dreams may otherwise come? Well, as they saying went, only time would tell. Only time would tell.
* * * * *
The Zombie of the fifth office. That was what Kelkuriel, overseer of Zaphon, was worried about. She looked at him when he talked to her, and gave her a work responsibility. With that stare, as if there was no brain activity going on in her head at all. She would look at him, and then say ‘Ok’. But the stare was vacant. Frikking zombie is all he could think about her. She was cute though.
He would sit there, at the desk, most days, and think on the Zombie. What cogitations went through that mind? Any? She did her work competently enough, and Cindradel ate lunch in the cafeteria occasionally. She was of course Renetha, the 115th female Cherubim. She’d worked in Zaphon Overseer offices since their foundation, and had a long tradition of being vacant in her attitude. Like nobody was at home, but she understood. Like a computer which processed, but didn’t have any real personality. Cindradel assured him this was not the case. She was just extremely reserved and conservative. She was quietly amused by all the goings on in the Realm of Eternity, and thought most people daft with the things they went on about. Why complicate life so much was her central theology, apparently. Kelkuriel was curious.
‘Do you like to fuck men?’ Kelkuriel asked Renetha.
Renetha looked at him. She looked at him some more. She continued to look at him. Finally she spoke. ‘Is there any more work you want me to do today?’
Kelkuriel looked at her for a while, and then smiled inwardly. ‘Yes. You are required to have live sex with a male cherubim in this office, in front of everyone.’
Renetha looked at him. Then she blinked. ‘I’m not going to put on a live sex show for you, Kelkuriel. I am not that crude.’
‘Finally a frikking reaction from Zombie bitch,’ said Kelkuriel.
‘Zombie bitch? What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ she asked, suddenly a slightly animated look on her face.
‘My God. I’ve cracked the Ice Queen,’ said Kelkuriel.
‘Go to hell,’ replied Renetha, and returned her gaze to the PC. ‘All you men suck. No decency left in any of you.’ She wouldn’t look at him.
‘Frigid, huh?’ asked Kelkuriel.
She gave him a look, and started typing at her PC. ‘I have taste in fine gentlemen,’ she said. ‘Who know how to treat a lady.’
‘Not up for a fuck in the storage room then, I take it?’
She continued typing, ignoring him.
‘Ok,’ he finally said. ‘I get the point. Miss Perfection. Too holy for the rest of us.’
‘Precisely,’ she said, not looking up from her typing.
‘Smug superior holiness queen,’ suggested Kelkuriel.
‘Primitive, carnality based, overseer,’ she replied.
‘Ouch,’ replied Kelkuriel. ‘Well, you do your job well. I won’t have you retrenched.’
She looked up at him with a concerned look on her face. ‘You would have me retrenched? Why? What have I done wrong?’
‘You lack communication skills. Public empathy. A spirit of elitism which exalts itself over the rest of us. Sitting there, mocking our ways, thinking you are better than us. You lack any real kindness or thoughtfulness. You don’t relate to anyone, and you are cold and judgmental. You don’t get along. You assume we have to meet your standards of behavior, when we are comfortable in the eternal life paradigms we have chosen. We don’t ask you to copy our behaviours, but you insult them with your attitude. If you can’t cope with them, and want to be at odds with them, it might be best if you found somewhere else to work.’
‘Ok. I will,’ she replied. She turned off her PC, picked up her handbag, and said ‘I’ll come in next week and collect my things, and sign the form showing I resign. Goodbye.’
Kelkuriel nodded, satisfied.
He returned to his desk and contacted Cindradel. ‘Find a replacement for Renetha. Someone who is more like the office style of getting along.’
‘Will do,’ replied Cindradel.
And that was that.
* * * * *
Renetha's replacement was Ellabrae, 252nd Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity, twin to Blindriel. She was an Irish angel, and she was what they were looking for. Kelkuriel spent some time with her in his first week and mapped out his plans for the promotion of Selphoraphon, his own keep in the 16th disc of Selphora, and they sat there and discussed ides for working in the wood-turning industry, with ideas for placement at various international conferences for Selphoran workers the first of the basic ideas they discussed. Opportunities for displaying objects of wood turned by various Selphoraphon experts at shows here and there were also worked through. Finally, the most obvious one, which needed to be sensitively handled legally to avoid any conflict of interests, was the marketing of Selphoran products to the realm in general. As the overseers all had a term of office and the nations were ultimately represented in the Seraphim and early Cherubim, it was one of the things, in the end taken for granted, that they would promote their own culture and people to a certain degree. Just their unwritten rights for while they were in office. And while there were protocols established for what could and couldn't be done there was not too much in terms of legislation. So, because of that, Kelkuriel would take his advantages, and press hard for the name of his disc. He would represent well and get the job done.
Ellabrae had a sharp sense of humor, and quite a few jokes to tell about her twin who she called a bit of a wild child, but she was mostly a happy face in the office, and Kelkuriel smiled when he got to work each morning knowing that Ellabrae would already be there, as she started early, and that she would one way or another bring a smile to his face for the day. And that is were the beginning of a crush began.
* * * * *
Ellabrae had gotten home from work. It was a busy day again. Boy, she was zonked. She slumped in front of the TV set, and watched as 'The Simpsons' went through its show. Boring, she through, but she was too lazy to change the channel. Moron walked in.
'Hey sis,' said Blindriel. 'Wassup?'
'Dear brother. Will you ever clean up the house? It's disgusting, dude. I mean, you don't even hide your pornography any more. You are twisted fuck.'
'Give me a break Ella. It's not like I get any from you, you know.'
'You are disgusting. That is inappropriate. We are siblings. It wouldn't be right,' replied Ellabrae.
'Fuck. Applying human rules to divine creation. We're not fricking literal brother and sister. Just same birth order, bitch. Don't make such a fucking big deal out of it. It's a minor issue.'
'Not in my book, buster. And what the fuck is your human name anyway? I can never fucking remember. It's Irish like mine, isn't it?'
He sat down next to her. 'Something like that. Fuck, look I know I'm lazy. I'll clean the house eventually. I'm working up to it. I've got a trillion year plan. One item put away every trillion years. Just be patient,' replied Blindriel.
'Ahh. You are hell. I don't know why I support you. You are such a loser,' cried Ellabrae in disgust.
'Give me a break sweet cheeks. Who the hell else will take care of me if you don't? I'm hardly fit for anything. I mean, I could play club cricket at a certain level were I might get payed a small stipend, but that is about it. I'm hardly great at it. And it would take an effort for me to bother to reach that level again. I just like the party. You know that sis. Give me a break. I make that chocolate pudding you like once a week, and you swore that was enough, as long as I wasn't too chaotic' he complained.
'It is enough,' she said, quite mad. 'But don't think I won't complain anyway. You always have a home with me. You are my twin brother and I love you. But you need to reform yourself eventually Blindriel the Cherubim. The attitude stinks.'
'Kelkuriel crack on to you again?' Blindriel asked, changing the subject.
She suddenly went rosey red. 'Uh, don't talk about that.' But her face lit up.
'You like him. Don't you?' he asked.
'He's very professional. He's an old hand at a lot of stuff, and keeps it focused and under control. He is a very good example of an angel, something you should aspire to,' replied Ellabrae.
'I have my style. I'm working on it slowly,' said Blindriel. 'You might need to give me forever, but I'll get there.'
'Dreamer,' she said. 'Fuck off and listen to your heavy metal. I'm ordering in asian for tonight. Tell me what you want after you have thought about it.'
'Indian curry. Don't care which,' he replied instantly.
She looked at him. 'Fine. Ok. That will do. Fuck off to your AC-DC, dude. I need a break.'
And so Blindriel exited the living room, back to his den, leaving Ellabrae staring at the Simpson's and wondering when she could be bothered to reach for the phone and order that night's meal.
* * * * *
Life flowed well for Kelkuriel in his overseers job, and the replacement for Renetha worked out. Renetha moved to a distant rim, and contacted the office saying she had found a more suitable place for work and life. The issue was resolved, and harmony was found again. For that Kelkuriel was grateful.
‘Morning Stars: Gamrayel’
(Or Morning Stars XVII)
Time and life. Sin and obedience. What has been is not what will be. And some things never seem to go away, even Christ’s like Jesus for example. Never seem to go away…… Never seem to go away….. Never seem to go away…..
said Michael. ‘And that is what eternal life is
sort of all about to begin with. You have seen for yourself, now,
haven’t you. You have seen them fade away, haven’t you.
And look at him, serving in humility, working for all his church,
doing the dog’s body work. But, you see those crosses they
wear, don’t you. And you see them quote John 17 don’t
you. And you see those others gone from us now, don’t you. For
they fade away, with no commitment, with no endurance, with no love
Michael. For love unites us and binds us together. And Jesus is
committed, and that is really about it. That is really about
‘We’ll see at number 21. And we will see on this issue of commitment, Callodyn. We will see.’
‘Hey, bastard. I am at number 228. And David is at fucking number 229. So watch you’re fucking mouth, maggot. Or I will get pissed one day.’
Michael backed down. That was about enough of that. His pride had gone on long enough.
'You're not even a Christian, 'said Michael, glaring at Callodyn.
Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly looked up from his desk. 'No. He's not. He defends the Church of Glorious Hope, one of our Assemblies of Faith. We inculcate much of the message of Jesus through that ministry. Callodyn is very fond of that these days.'
Callodyn glared at Michael, and sat back down on his couch seat.
'Well. It's pride. He's doing it in pride.'
'I'm fucking humble,' said Callodyn.
'With an attitude like that? What, are you buying into this Revelation fulfilment idea. That it will be gradually fulfilled over the epochs. It's nonsense,' said Michael.
'Not at all,' replied Callodyn. 'That, though, is a testimony to the longevity of Jesus. How he has survived endless scourges of Jewish mockery and remained humble and loving. You guys never give him the respect he deserves. He's Christ in so many ways, if not literally.'
'Humph,' replied Michael, but softened a little. 'Jesus is on my mind from time to time. I don't deny the ambition of our younger Cherubim brother, your elder as I understand it. And, yes, he's endured, and so as his church for the most part. But the Messiah is a Jewish prophecy and a Jewish tradition, and while he might be Jewish, he's not our Christ. Zerubbabel is the official one, and Ambriel is the Christ of Talmudic tradition. Jesus fails on both.'
'Fine,' retorted Callodyn. 'It doesn't really matter that much in the end anyway. Whatever title. He'll last. I'm not sure about many of you guys.'
'We'll last,' replied Michael. 'And when Zionistya arrives at the end of this eternity, and we go, you'll know that Jesus is just a Jew, because he'll come right along.'
Callodyn stared at Michael, somewhat confused.
'What is Zionistya?' asked the Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.
'Nothing,' replied Michael quickly. 'Just a dream I'd had. About the future. It might be true, it might not be.'
'Well, never mind,' replied Cherubim Daniel, but kept the matter in mind.
'Jesus is just a pain in the frikkin arse,' said Michael. 'I don't understand the appeal. Never have.'
'Still don't get it, huh,' replied Callodyn. 'He didn't save your world. He saved ours.'
Michael was going to say something, but thought better of it. 'If you say so,' he finally replied.
'The Revelation is a study book, a diatribe on good versus evil, but we don't take it literally,' said Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly. 'Callodyn has a current passion for the book, but nothing more. He, as I said, is NOT a Christian.'
Michael looked at Callodyn for confirmation.
'No. I'm not. Technically its heresy to call him Christ,' said Callodyn softly. 'But its only a title anyway.'
'Fine,' said Michael. He was calm now. The mood in the room had gradually softened as they'd argued it out.
'Gamrayel's coronation is tomorrow. He got the key this morning' said Michael. 'So I am assuming you two will be there. He likes the royal treatment, like some of the others.'
'We'll be there,' said Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.
'Good,' said Michael. 'Well, this afternoon at Danielphon has been great, but I have things to do. Fare thee well.' And Michael stood, left, leaving a moody Callodyn grumbling to himself.
'Cheer up. You worked out something of the issue,' said Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly to Cherubim Callodyn.
'It's far from resolved,' replied Callodyn.
'No. No it's not,' replied Daniel. And it wasn't.
* * * * *
Gamrayel sat with Cherubim Callodyn. 'Jesus is mostly ego. I'm not at all sure it is always holiness pushing him on. People can be motivated to endure by more than just determination to justify their faith. You know, Cal. Wise up. Jesus is a Jew on a mission. An egomanica, buddy.'
Callodyn sighed. 'Yeh, ok. I've been thinking about it. We in the ANM are loyal enough to our Jesus based denominations, but we are learning to let go of any impulses which might be accused of idolatrous towards the man from Nazareth. We will defend his faith in the end, somewhat at least, but no. He never was the Messiah. In some ways he emulated messianic ministry, but he was not the King of Israel. I've moved on in the last while since some conflict with Michael and others on this issue.'
'Good to see,' replied Gamrayel. 'You should lose yourself in classical music for a while. Focus on other things. I am well familiar with your compositions. Get into that scene for a while. It will be one of my chief focuses as overseer. It would do your reputation a much needed break from all the controversy you seem to almost attract at times.'
'It's my twin,' replied Callodyn. 'Kayella. I have to put Mrs Know it All in her place. I have indeed a reputation to maintain with the vixen. Got to go hard or go home, or she'll cal me a joke and pay out on me till kingdom come.'
'To each their own, I guess,' replied Gamrayel. Gammi looked with concern on his younger cherubim brother. 'Go classical for a while Callodyn. It will give you a much needed break from the stress of it all.'
Callodyn fidgeted for a bit, and looked at Gamrayel. 'Ok. I'll give it away while you are overseer. Your the boss Gamrayel. I'll be a pianist for this time, and let things be. Give them all a break from the laughter and tears of Callodyn. Be beautiful for a while.'
'Very good, dear brother,' replied Gamrayel. 'You won't regret it.'
Callodyn smiled. 'I'll give Kayella the glory for a while then. Serve her in devoted work as a pianist. She's still sweet to me. I'll do my best to perform for her.'
'Very wise. Now if you'll excuse me, work to do. But keep at it Callodyn. You are still a good example to all of us.'
Callodyn nodded, stood, and gave a little bow to Gamrayel, and left the overseer's office. Gamrayel smiled. An issue resolved, at least for the time being anyway.
* * * * *
Narel, the 17th born of the Seraphim females of Eternity, was in a good mood. She resided with her twin Gamrayel, and performed at Pelnaphon, and was a busy angel and a happy angel and a dedicated angel. But she didn't get much from her twin, of the saucy stuff, and that needed addressing.
'Don't take too much for granted with him Narel,' said Lovrayel. 'Eros is an old cavalier, believe me. He is quite forward when he wants to be. Believe me.'
Narel nodded, looking carefully at Eros, who was stretching in front of the two angels.
'Now, sweetie,' began Eros. 'Take off all your clothes Narel. It is best to be naked to begin our work.'
'You have no chance of that,' replied Narel. 'I am a conservative lady.'
'The god of sex needs a naked woman if she is to learn properly. Now undress, undress,' he replied, waving his hand at her.
'It's not like he hasn't seen it all, believe me,' said Lovrayel of Infinity.
Narel, nervously though, undressed, and soon stood before them in her knickers and bra.
'Them too,' replied Eros. 'The work needs to be thorough.
'Go to hell,' said Narel, but Eros just waved his hand at her to continue. Reluctantly she did so.
'Let me have a good look at you,' said the angel of sex.
Narel, nervously, removed her hands covering her breasts and genitalia, and stood there. 'Fine. There you go. That is me. Enjoy. I'm sure you are.'
'Right,' nodded Eros. 'I see what I have to work with. And the attitude is interesting. First of all, if you want some good loving you have to deliver yourself. Your clothes? Nuns probably call you conservative.'
'I'm traditional,' retorted Narel.
'Which is why Gamrayel probably masturbates to get his rocks off, and leaves you be,' replied Eros.
'Mmm,' replied Narel. 'Ok. Fine. Dress a bit more sensual. Fine. I'll look into it.'
'Now, get some bondage gear and some porn and hot outfits for the bedroom. If you want him to fuck your brains out you will have to look the part.'
Narel gasped. 'Look, I am not sure at all about bondage, and, as you put it, having my twin fuck my brains out is not exactly what I had in mind.'
Lovrayel smiled. 'Oh, I think that is what you are looking for Narel. Deep down every woman wants that. Believe me.'
Narel, again nervously looked at Lovrayel, and then returned her gaze to Eros. 'Fine. Ok then. I'll an the costumes.'
'Get vibrators as well. And some sex toys. Jazz it up a bit. He probably won't expect it, so surprise him. It will get a reaction.'
'Not exactly sure I want a reaction,' replied Narel, who had returned her hands to protecting her private bits.
'We all want a reaction,' replied Eros dramatically. 'Now come. We shall do some positions.'
'What the hell!' exclaimed Narel. 'You can't be serious. I am not having sex with you Narel.'
'Don't be so dramatic sweetie. I'm not talking about literal sexual activity. Just showing you how it works and showing you positions and things. What you have to do to please your man. I will not get an erection, don't worry. I'm disciplined.'
Narel glared at Eros, but finally softened. 'Oh, fine then. Show me what to do.'
And, as the afternoon passed, and an amused Lovrayel watched, the god of sex put Narel through the works practically, and while she was exhausted when she was finished, and felt like she would almost have to go to confession, she did admit she had learned a thing or two from Eros. Whatever else he did know his trade. Whatever else he did know that.
* * * * *
Gamrayel enjoyed his classical music most of all in his time in the Overseers office. Looking back it was the classics, every day, during his work, which gave him joy, working in the top job, with a sense of its importance, knowing it was his reward for his birth right in life, and that he had an opportunity to contribute, for which he was eternally grateful. It worked out well, and people were happy with Gamrayel and his tenure. A good era for the Realm of Eternity.
(Or Morning Stars XVIII)
had enjoyed his million years as overseer of Zaphon and the Realm of
Eternity. But, alack, alas, nothing lasted forever, and it was time
for a change. Time to give the key over to Semambarel who had
patiently served, long anticipating his days of glory. The Mexican
fellow really was coming along these days in terms of perseverance
and holiness. He had developed a good attitude of fidelity to God and
his ways, and was showing strong compassion for those who hurt. Of
course, his traditional Mexican softness and humility shone through,
and for the 18th angel Seraphim male of Eternity, the year you became
a man in a sense, Gamrayel found he who was the penultimate voice of
the Seraphim Torah the most sensible choice indeed.
He didn’t actually have to make the flight. It was early in the morning, and he had just risen, and heard a knock at the door. It was Semambarel. ‘Uh, yes brother?’ queried Gamrayel.
The Mexican looked rather snappy, dressed up in his best, and with a grin on his face. ‘Look, Gammy. The million years snapped over just 5 minutes ago. I was going to knock straight away, but God told me to be patient. Anyway, I know you refused to ever speak on the subject, but if I am your man, can I please have the key?’
Gamrayel smiled. Should he torture the fellow? Should he? He walked over to his bed, sat down, opened a drawer, grabbed the key, and came back to Semambarel.
‘Now brother – you have had a run of 17 Overseers pretty consistently following established traditions and not messing around with things too much. God likes consistency, as you should know, so no great surprises, okay?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep it simple. So, can I have the key?’
Gamrayel looked at him, thought it over, and handed him the key. ‘You can make the announcement yourself. I’ll just confirm it later on in the week. Now skedaddle.’
‘Thanks,’ said Semambarel taking the key, and rushing off instantly. His glory awaited and he knew it. But that was life as a ‘Morning Star’. That was life.
* * * * *
'Listen, hombre. I serve the Lord Jesus. I am a faithful Roman Catholic. And if I say it's time for the Church to be separated from the heathen. By the black balls of Bartimaeus, it will be separated from the heathen.'
'Yes Sir Gomez,' replied the young Cherubim offspring angel.
Hector Gomez nodded as the Cherubim seemed to be coming into greater compliance with his ideals. That was good. He needed unity in his organisation, and they had an objective – unify Christendom somewhat in his Mexican world of the disc of Helyphora, the 18th disc of the Realm, where Semambarel had been overseer. Hector himself was a reformed Bandito. He'd lived in 19th century Mexico as a bandit, robbing people, but had never committed murder. That was, in his hypocritical way, against his religion, while he didn't mind the life of a thief to get by in a tough world. He still retained, though, his gruff manners. They shone through at times, and he could be a handful in running 'Rumbling Tummy Chiles and Peppers', which produced hot sauce, primarily, a popular condiment throughout Helyphora. It was a large organisation – it had a lot of power – and a huge customer base. And the reformed Hector Gomez was popular as well. Recently he had been receiving letters from a contact of his at the Vatican, who had taught him the general plan of Jesus for a greater degree of separation for the Catholic Church and, to a lesser extent, protestantism, which he was not as worried about, to separate them from the world and its citizens, as more proper citizens of the Kingdom of God, with more proper Christian values and ways of life. He'd had enough. All the mockery over many millions of years now towards the attempts of the Church to fulfil revelation, only to be blocked and hindered at every path, had been enough for him. Fine – if the world did not want the salvation of Jesus Christ, let them solve the eternity enigma for themselves. That had become the philosophy of Jesus in current thinking, and the Vatican had contacted many of its key citizens to get such thinking underway. And Hector Gomez had responded to this calling, and was running with it. And his organisation would comply, whether they liked it or not.
The young angel put his hand up again, to get Hector's attention.
'I'm married to a Noahide angel. Will that be a problem with what is coming up?'
'Hombre, you should not marry the darkness. It is not wise. But the Lord Jesus is merciful. There will be room for your wife.'
'Yes Sir Gomez,' replied the angel, and got back to his job.
Hector surveyed the plant, and made his way back to the office. As he sat at the desk of one of his chief executives in one of his many major operating plants, he considered life. It had been a good one for the Cherubim offspring Hector Gomez so far. A good one. In his Earthly manifestation he'd gotten over being a sinner towards the end of his life, and confessed his sins to a priest, and genuinely meant it. When he'd gotten to the next world, the older memories of his life in the Realm of Eternity resurfaced, and he found his way again, starting the 'Rumbling Tummy Chiles and Peppers' company, which soon found success. He was gruff, and he was rough, but he was acceptable as he kept the faith and kept the law. He had 3 wives, and many children, and he enjoyed the good life and the party and siesta and liked to live in splendour, but was serious about work to make sure it lasted and kept the credits rolling in. And he was probably a happy man when it all came down to it. He complained about everything to everyone, and it was a feature the priest often said he needed to work upon, and he did go soft from time to time. But it was just Hector being Hector, and he'd gotten used to himself anyway. Others would just have to cope. The new direction the church was planning – he was not sure about. But he would run with it for now, and be a faithful Catholic, and that, as they say, was that. Time would tell soon enough how things would pan out.
* * * * *
'So you are a Roman Catholic?' the interviewer asked the new overseer.
Semambarel looked at the famous news reporter. 'Jamenitae the Cherubim isn't it?' he asked her. 'Venetian Princess if I recall.'
'I am indeed the Venetian Princess,' replied the 131st of the female Cherubim. 'Twin to Lucifrious. We have met a few times in ancient days.'
'And you are a Catholic I take it?' asked Semambarel.
'Indeed I am,' replied Jamenitae.
'You are asking questions pertaining to our lord's new directives for separation from the world, then? The new attitude to be in the world but not of the world?' queried Semambarel.
'I might be driving towards those questions, I admit it. But this is a news report for our network,' she replied.
'The main catholic channel on Pay TV as I recall? The Mainstream one? Lots of catholic movies and television series?' queried Semambarel.
'Catholic TV,' replied Jamenitae. 'We are the main channel universally for the Catholic Church.'
'Right,' nodded Semambarel, taking in that information. 'Well, no. Jesus has his head in the sand. The Gospel is part of my faith, but so is the Seraphim Torah, and many other teachings also. It is not a mood in Christian thinking that I agree with at all. Not even slightly.'
'You are at odds with Christ, then?' asked Jamenitae.
'He was not officially Christ of Israel. It is an honorary title. Most know the truth of the issue. I follow the Gospel still, and believe in being loving and caring. And keeping faith in my religion. But not when it comes to casting aside the rest of angelic and humankind. Not when we come to believe we are it, and there is no other. That is the cult which Christianity was for a lot of the time. It is not what it needs to be now, and in the future. A resurgence of isolationist tendency. Does happen from time to time, and it is expected. I do not represent that view. I am overseer of the Realm of Eternity. For ALL citizens of the Realm of Eternity, not just Catholic or Christian ones. I hope that answers your query.'
'That's fine,' said Jamenitae. 'Now I have some other questions also.' And the interview went on for a while, and Semambarel did his job, and when Jamenitae left he sighed, realizing the kind of things then he would be dealing with in his work. But that was life. You had to do your best to handle the job God gave you to do, even dealing the pride of Jesus of Nazareth. Even dealing with the pride of his lord and saviour.
* * * * *
Semprey the Cherubim, 145th of the Cherubim of Eternity, prince of Barcelona, was looking at a soccer magazine. Lucifrious, the 131st Cherubim male, twin to Jamenitae, was opposite him, playing with a soccer ball.
'Hombre,' said Lucifrioius. 'Let's play some football out the back.'
'Busy,' said Semprey. 'Doing some research on old soccer strategies from aeons ago. Want to improve and refine my knowledge on some things.'
'The only way to learn, is to do,' said Lucifrious. 'Too much theory, not enough practice. Get stuck in and the mind will create your gameplan as you go along. Don't fill your head with other peoples claptrap, hombre. It is not how the game is played.'
'And you would know this Lucifrious?' queried Semprey.
'Hey, Italian's are the best at the game. We always have been. Italians always do it better,' replied Lucifrious.
'Tell it to Brazil,' replied Semprey, and returned his focus to the magazine.
'Your problem is that you are more words than deeds. Always looking into things, but never doing them. Always knowledge, never action. You got to move that ass and get things done,' said Lucifrious, who was attempting to balance the soccer ball on his head.
'From the mind flows the body's actions,' replied Semprey. 'Basic knowledge.'
'You already have all you need wired in,' replied Lucifrious. 'The game is not rocket science. We kick the ball, and run. Not much more than that. Just go hard.'
'Keep your logic. I'm not buying,' replied Semprey.
'Not surprising. Spain? Barcelona. They are hardly a soccer giant,' replied Lucifrious.
'We kick your butt,' said Semprey. 'Barcelona are one of the long term giants at the game. We take it seriously. Venice? They barely even register a news story of interest. Amateurs on a good day.'
'Your mama,' replied Lucifrious.
'And your mama can play better soccer than you anyway,' grinned Semprey.
'Enough of the bullshit. Let's play,' demanded Lucifrious.
Semprey sighed. 'Fine. I'll change.'
'Don't worry about it. Just some light passing and stuff out back. Just to stay a bit in practice. Next season for sure. I'll get back in next season for sure.'
'You say that every year,' replied Semprey. 'But you always have other plans.'
'I'm in demand. What can I say?' replied Lucifrious. 'Now let's play.'
They headed out the back of Semprey's home in Terraphora, and kicked around the ball for a while. And then Jamenitae showed up, and left with Lucifrious, and Semprey sighed as he started another night alone. Man, he needed a woman again one day. One of these days.
* * * * *
Scarantiel was the 118th male cherubim of the Realm of Eternity and Zosanna was his twin. They were the Prince and Princess of Sicily. They each had discs of authority, and did much work there, but shared a home in Sicily in Terraphora. And they were having an argument.
'His dick is bigger than yours anyway,' said Zosanna.
'I'm 7 inches of meat,' retorted Scarantiel.
'He's 8. And knows how to use it. Drives deep and hard. A few strokes and you're finished. Hardly a lover boy.'
'You are demanding. You are never satisfied,' he replied. 'I could fuck you for an hour and you would still want more.'
'A woman likes to be satisfied,' replied Zosanna.
'Then fuck off and fuck your new gigolo. See if I care,' replied Scarantiel.
'No. I won't. You will have to measure up. Won't take a loser attitude from you. Contact Eros, you bastard. Consult with the expert. He will sort you out.'
'He's a popular fella for sorting out love lives, I've noticed,' said Scarantiel, sitting down, a little calmer and relieved she had signalled she was not wanting to leave him. 'Works with Lovrayel in that work. Seems to be what they do for a living.'
'Not a professional business,' said Zosanna. 'Just something they do. They get an allowance from the Golden City council for doing their official role work for the world.'
Scarantiel picked up a soccer magazine. 'You think Italy will win the upcoming world cup? I think we are a good bet?'
'Maybe,' she replied. 'Not too worried. England looking good at the moment. Finally getting off their asses and trying again. They do that occasionally.'
'Great players when they try. Lot of tradition. I love that Beckham. He really goes hard at times. Champion player,' replied Scarantiel.
'Will you contact Eros?' she asked him sincerely.
'Fine,' replied Scarantiel. 'I'll look into it signorina. Now go make dinner. Canneloni would be fab.'
Zosanna nodded, and left the room for the kitchen. As she began making the nightly meal she was satisfied. He would address the situation. She would finally be satisfied in the bedroom. About time to.
* * * * *
Semambarel looked at the news report. Jesus had taken an interest in soccer and supporting the Israel team. Fascinating. Jesus had never taken much interest in sporting things. Maybe a new thought had come over him. Well, if soccer was in vogue, then he would look into it himself. Time to get fit. Maybe chat with Talzudiel or Cosadriel. They had great fitness regimes when serious. Get some advice from them. Play a bit, think about how high he could push it, and make it a thing of his tenure. Why not.
And so he did, and it became the flavour of the season, and life rolled on in the Realm of Eternity.
sat on the edge of her bed, in her bedroom, in her abode in
Paradision on Televere, looking through memories. Looking through
some of the assorted photographs that her and Boaz had taken on their
long sojourn together. They took photos sparsely – in an
eternal life the need was not great to take them so much anymore,
unlike their very early years on Televere. But over the many millions
of years in her time with Boaz on Paradision she had accumulated
collections from time to time of dear and precious memories. The
stuff of her eternal existence.
She took out one old and tattered photo, one she had looked at countless times. It was the two of them down on the Antarctic continent of Televere, braving the freezing cold in an igloo for a week. It had been a challenge by a friend, and while they had survived on fish from Boaz’s fishing, they had survived – just. She felt like she had conquered so many fears in life in that week – like she was ready for anything almost.
She looked at another photo. An innocent one, not really anything really, just a shopping mall in Androvon, the capital of Androma, the country continent they lived on. But the day the photo had been taken she had fallen pregnant with a special child, young Kerry, who really was sweet and dear to her heart. One of her most beloved children.
Another photo spoke of their time with Albert Rothchild, King of Televere, and his glamorous life as a Royal amongst men. She was related to Albert, of course. She was his distant grandmother. He was a kind, goodly heart. Very caring, very sensible. He had been King of Televere for most of its duration, taking over from his father who, for various reasons, had decided on an abdication. They were latter offspring of David Rothchild, her great grandson, the Messiah – Seraphim Ambriel of Eternity. As such they had been the popular choice of family for the Monarchy in the early days of Televere. Nobody had really opposed it then, and it was an accepted fact of life now. In this photo he was toasting Boaz at a formal celebration. They had enjoyed that limelight for a while, revelling in their fame, being seen by all. But the simple life had returned. The regular life of eternity. And they were just another long lived couple as she saw it, not really any different from anyone else.
As she looked through the photos tears came to her eyes. Tears of sorrow, tears of joy. Tears of fond memories, and sad regrets. Her life was in these photos in so many ways, and they always brought that tear to her eye. But, no. She wiped her eyes with a hankie, put the photos away, and went off to return to her ironing. She could reminisce at any time, but the humdrum of life always called her back to its steady routine. But, thinking on her photos, she planned something in an instant. Time to again make some memories. Time to make some treasured recollections. And she would have another photographic journal, something she had done on occasions previously. And it would be joyous and it would be good. And it would turn over another episode in the eternal life of Ruth, wife of Boaz.
She looked at the wild looking man, full of passion, half naked apart from his swimmers, ready to take on Boaz’s dare.
‘Very well, simple Jewish man. I shall.’ And he did.
Half way down the 100 metre diving drop to the ocean below Ruth was very, very lucky to get a photo of the islander, in all his glory, ready to taste salt water at a 100 miles per hour. She had thought about chiding Boaz for the dare, but she had not seriously thought the islander would go through with the jump. But he had, and they would have something to talk about all week.
Later on that night they were dining with ‘James’ and his family, who said he was feeling fine after his grand diving escapade.
‘To tell you the truth, Boaz, I had done the dive a number of times previously.
‘But surely the impact must have been severe,’ commented Ruth.
‘Us Fijians are made of tough stuff,’ responded James.
Ruth smiled. That much indeed seemed true.
They dined well that night, tasting fine Fijian fare, out on island near the equator of Televon, also called Fiji after its earthly counterpart. For the most part the residents of the island were Fijian Jehovah’s Witnesses from earth, the main branch of Christianity which found its home on Televere. Her grand-son, Ambriel, had once commented to her that the spirit of the Kingdom Hall citizens was a Unitarian one and the important issue of the unity of God was more closely addressed in this particular Christian denomination as opposed to other Trinitarian bodies.
Of course, Trinitarianism still survived on earth, as most of the established Christian movements, while somewhat recognizing David Rothchild as a Messiah of sorts, had not quite caved in the end to the relinquishing of their traditions. While, as they came to the heavenlies, the Trinitarian notion and the deity of Jesus were soundly taught as error to all such former Trinitarian Christians, Ambriel’s judgement had been that for Televere, which was to be a very important spiritual home for Israel in the heavenlies, only those arrivals from earth which had acknowledged the unity of God on earth would make suitable citizens for their own particular special homeworld. There were Muslims, too, on Televere, but not a great deal, and mostly the Sufis, which Ambriel seemed to be fond of. They seemed less adverse, in David’s thinking, to Israel’s prosperity.
There were also a strong smattering of Christadelphians, who likewise acknowledged God’s unity, and Ruth had slowly been making friends from this community.
Their host, James, had come from a dedicated family of the Watchtower, and he was a true gentleman, entertaining them well into the night with his brave exploits.
It was a good time, and what Ruth had been looking for, but more fun still awaited on their current little holiday sojourn.
‘Dolphins! I never knew we had dolphins on Televere.’
‘Only here at our facility. Waterworld imported them only a few centuries back after we gained approval from the Government. We can’t release them into the wild, of course, but we are allowed to keep them here in captivity for the time being. Well, do you want to ride them?’
‘Are you serious?’ asked Ruth.
‘Totally. Believe me they are well trained.’
Sebastian, the host who was showing them around Waterworld, guided Ruth over to a section of the pool and pushed a sonic button which instantly summoned two dolphins. And, carefully, standing on braces attached around the dolphin’s midriffs, Ruth, slowly, carefully, skied around the pool on 2 dolphins’ back. Boaz was photographing her avidly, laughing all the time, and Ruth was all smiles. Eventually she yelled ‘Here goes,’ and dived off their backs into the water. The dolphins swam around her, making the noises dolphin’s make, and she was so happy that she didn’t have a care in the world.
Later on, ironically eating fish at a restaurant overlooking the ocean just up from Waterworld, Boaz toasted his wife. ‘To Ruth. The best dolphin surfer this side of Androvon.’ And she smiled incessantly.
* * * * *
It was one week later, and they were climbing Mt Ragnarok, the highest mountain on Androma, higher even than Mt Everest on Earth. It was a fearsome climb, and they were by no means attempting to reach the summit, which was a hell of a climb, but they were happy enough hiking up to the traditional base camp from a lower resort town, up to the hotel which had magnificent views of the valley and Karnavaar mountain ranges.
The fresh mountain air livened up her soul, and as she climbed and gazed around her at the beautiful and natural scenery she reminded herself that she really needed to do this more often.
They reached base camp and the hotel, which they could have driven up to had they needed to, but which would have defeated the whole purpose of their climb, and booked into a room overlooking the mountain. They made love that night, and the following morning, feeling the alpine spirit all around her, Ruth was in a state of quiet bliss. What next on their getaway?
* * * * *
They were at the bottom of a gold mine running deep under the Karnavaar ranges, following their host along a lit track.
‘Here, in the heart of Televere, we find what we think is the best gold in the universe. But perhaps that is just bragging.’
Ruth and Boaz smiled. They had paid well for the personal guided tour down the mine and were enjoying all the insights their host had offered them.
Soon they were digging around, searching for gold with their pics, and Ruth kept bragging she would find a nugget. Boaz smiled, wished her well, but it was his own pic which picked out a small, but decent sized solid gold nugget. Jason, their host, took it from him, examined him, and nodded. ‘That’s gold alright.’
‘You mean we can keep it,’ said Boaz.
‘Sure. We often have people find a little piece on our tours, and we usually let them keep the stuff – unless it is a major find, that is.’
‘Of course,’ said Boaz, holding the gold nugget up to the light.
They were happy all day, and later on, back in their alpine hotel room they reminisced about how such an exciting 3 weeks it had been, but both anxiously looked forward to getting home back to Paradision. They had completed Ruth’s purposes, and built up new memories to savour for many years to come yet.
She put down the album, full of pictures from their travels last month, sitting in her rocking chair, gentle rocking, thinking over life. She would remember this, how she planned out to take them on new adventures, and how it had proven successful. Simple ideas, really – just looking for new things to try, but also revisiting familiar themes from past years. So much of it to her now was the circle of life, going over familiar ground, but somehow in that circle it always seemed fresh and new, as if, while they were treading down well worn pathways of life, they were treading them down with new insight and fresh understanding.
She could never imagine herself bored, now, and somehow the routine, once viewed as something which might become predictable, actually started to look appealing ironically just because of that.
And suddenly she had so much she wanted to do, to say, to be, again and again. So much to live for.
She stood, walked outside, and it was raining a little, She raised her hands up into the rain, twirled around, and just felt happy with all things that were.
And inside Boaz gazed on with silent wonder at just what had gotten into his beloved.
(Or Morning Stars XIX)
was finished. Finished, completed, and done. One Million years. Phew.
What a million. Of course, it was becoming quite a tradition now,
quite a tradition indeed, and coming to his dear brother Jontel’s
abode, a fine Sabbath afternoon, Jontel was on the front porch,
looking up at him as he approached.
‘You’re late,’ said Jontel. ‘At least 3 hours late.’
‘Sorry about that Jonny. I guess I don’t really need to say anything now. Here’s the key.’ He handed over the executive toilet key to Jontel, who smiled. ‘Toiletries will never quite be the same again,’ he said sarcastically. Semambarel grinned, sat down, and looked at the sky. ‘A good day for it. Do you expect to be in Zaphon tonight?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Jontel. ‘Perhaps. But, unlikely. I have business at the moment, but I will be there within a few weeks. It should be an exciting time. A time patiently waited for, but now here.’
‘Watch that Daniel,’ said Semambarel. ‘He is usually no end of trouble.’
‘I’ll watch him.’
‘Good. Good. And remember, responsibility. It is mostly just that, just being a bit more responsible than usual, and people are pretty forgiving after that. Just don’t let the team down.’
‘Well, good. I’ll be going then.’ He got up, gave Jontel a final wave, and flew off.
As he watched him disappear Jontel was relieved. He hadn’t had to wait too long since the million was up, and now the job was his. A time, finally, to see some things done. Finally, a time for action.
sat in the bar, on the edge of Canbraphora, drinking whiskey, smoking
a cigarette, and looking very cool. It was noon. They should be here
A little later on the other 2 in the posse arrived. Ambriel and Meludiel. The team was ready. ‘Ok, Ambs. I know you have waited a life time, but we are ready now. Quite a number of Arcs ago a certain agenda was agreed upon by 6 of the Seraphim of Eternity. The firstborn 6 in fact. And that was ‘The Daniel Agenda’. For we desire a sweet vengeance upon our brother for certain prophetical words which caused no end of anxiety for a number of senior angels. Anyway, to cut a long story short, this is the location in Zaphon library and the index number. Please ensure Daniel is with you when you happen to ‘Stumble’ upon this text. Oh, and Meludiel. Have Brindabel authenticate the age of the text, would you. That much is really quite important to our plans.’
Meludiel nodded. She would obey her brothers request and wreak havoc on her beloved. Of that there could be no doubts.
‘So this is the name of the text? Quite ironic, really.’
‘Oh, it is just the beginning. For we have a cunning and sweet revenge to play on our dear brother. It shall be, dear Ambriel, the Rise and Fall of Daniel the Seraphim. Of that you can surely have no doubts, dear brother. Of that you can surely have no doubts.’
And Ambriel smiled.
* * * * *
Valandriel. Remember this fact. God rested on the 7th day.’
‘What is your point, dear brother.’
‘Well Saruviel has a strange sense of justice, as bizarre as that may sound. And in his sense of justice he has spoken words to me, forewarning me of a certain agenda. A certain ‘Daniel Agenda’.
‘And how does he know of this agenda?’ asked Valandriel.
‘A little birdy told him, apparently. Regardless, the details are thus. The agenda has been planned by Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel and Phanuel in a mission of revenge for the prophecies of Daniel. The mission involves, in the first instance, ‘The Prophecies of Michael, Seraphim of Eternity.’ And from there unfolds into five subsequent sets of prophecies, concluding with Phanuel. But Saruviel, who knows the contents of such scrolls already, has charted out ‘The Prophecies of Saruviel, Seraphim of Eternity,’ and that is were we come in.’
‘So is Saruviel on your side?’
‘He is playing fair, so he claims. Apparently, if I just do the right thing, the prophecies will work in my favour. But if don’t do what God wants me to do, then the prophecies will work against me. So I have to obey God.’
‘Isn’t that what we are supposed to do anyway.’
‘Yes. Yes it is. And older brother Saruviel, being quite responsible, is reminding me of that. And I am grateful to him because of it. Now we may be allowed a little bit of fun, and we might have to apologize in the end for the earlier prophecies, but there is still a matter of personal glory to achieve. And apparently that can be gained by a number of Angels. So we have to be careful.’
‘Got you. This sounds interesting, bro. Worth pursuing, you know. I have had a taste for it now and its ok after a while. Worth persevering with.’
‘I have always thought that myself. So we will see what will be. We will see what will be.’
* * * * *
I don’t understand is why, Daniel? Why do you want a decade,
right now, in the overseer’s position. I mean, ok. I am willing
to let you have it. A decade isn’t too much after all. But why,
‘Reasons. Good reasons. Eternally good reasons. Ok. So believe me.’
‘Well, okay. The position is yours.’
5 days later Daniel went on the news with this announcement.
‘The separating is finally upon us, brothers and sisters. It is finally here. I have spoken with God in regards to my latest decision and he has granted me complete approval to make this choice, for it is one which has long slumbered. The separating has come. We are a world, a universe, with diversity of religious faith. Often these religions run contrarily to each other, trying to outdo each other in a war of spiritual pride. But, no longer. Eternally no longer. The judgement is thus: Logos and Memra will reign supreme over a new universe, answerable to God. Jesus will be responsible to Logos. In this new universe every single Christian, the entire flock, will be taken. They will be separated, eternally, from the rest of us. Next, Rophiel and his Islamic followers will have their own universe, answerable to the prophet who will be answerable to God. Thirdly, the Bahai, as they have desired, will be responsible for all Bahai and the rest of humanity who they have accepted. They will go the Bahai universe and the Bab and Bahaulla. Finally, Israel and the children of Noah will remain here, forever, in our own realm. We are now to be eternally separated on our destinies, never to intertwine again. This is my will and the will of our eternal heavenly father.
* * * * *
Nobody really complained that much in the end. Unity wasn’t working, the religious were at each other’s throats, and they didn’t get along. The first nine discs of the Realm of Eternity were separated, housing all the Israelide and Noahide angels, while the rest of the discs were also separated, the various denominations being then taken to their own universes. Raphael, in the end, chose Jesus, and that was the end of the matter. In the separation the following Angels of the firstborn Seraphim remained in the Realm of Eternity alongside their twin: Michael, Gabriel, Daniel and Ambriel. Amongst the Cherubim Callodyn remained as a Noahide, as did Sandra and her twin with Navindra and her twin and Alesiah and her twin, but the rest departed for the Christian universe or the Muslim universe or the Bahai universe. It was the time of the choosing, as it came to be known in the Realm of Eternity.
* * * * *
A year later, after the separation had been complete, Daniel sat with the three other head Seraphim and Callodyn also. It was a sombre group of 5 angels, all the Shadow angels having departed, along with Metatron who had left for the Christian universe. Samael and Aphrayel and Sandalphon, though, from the Realm of Infinity, had come down to the Realm of Eternity, as Infinity was now empty apart from the 3 of them. When it came down to it nearly everyone had chosen Logos in the Realm of Infinity, but Sandalphon and Aphrayel knew in their hearts that they were knitted to Samael, and that was that. The way it would always be. They came in to the small meeting room at the top of Zaphon, In Michael’s executive suite, smiling at their brethren. In the end, they were the true survivors. The other’s were gone. Gone forever, and Daniel was judged by the group as having made the final, resolute and absolute decision.
* * * * *
Well, that had been short. Jontel had looked forward to the glory of the 19th Overseer, but it had been short lived. And was in a Realm with Jesus of Nazareth and the Church, functioning just as a regular Seraphim, with no official rankings, and mainly left to his own devices. Jesus said to him 'Get on with the job. Make your own fortune. I am sure you know how.' So Jontel sighed, settled down into his allotment of land in the new city he was part of, began working in a traditional emerging drama school, his oft held trade, and got on with life. But something lacked. The glory which should have been his, wasn't. It hadn't worked out like that. So he was in a state of dissatisfaction, and not really sure if he liked this new world at all. He returned to Chulara, of all things, and played it at a local Catholic club. Each weekend would roll around, and he would spend the afternoon's playing Chulara, sipping on tea, doing not much else. No lady loves at the moment, for he had gone solo for the time being. He wanted to think over this new life. And he would sit there playing Chulara, then look up at heaven, and wonder. Opportunity, yep. Plenty of them. But it hardly seemed worth it. And he wasn't sure he agreed at all. Not really at all. Jesus had pushed the beginning of this idea with Semambarel, but other concerns had taken over. But then Daniel had pushed it soon enough as well, and then they were no longer one. But that was not right. They had to be one. They HAD to resolve the issues of unity in time. It just HAD to be done.
He contacted Michael officially through his access rights, and chatted with him. Restoration. It had to be done. Reunification. They couldn't stay separate. It was pride, and without the whole, the individual parts would end up suffering. It was a truth he knew well. So no sooner had separation come, that reunification began, and Jontel worked with the idea, and discussed the idea, and wrote documents, and prayed. Quite a lot he prayed. And, in time, he would get his result. One way or another he would get his result.
(Or Morning Stars XX)
had been complex, but had been achieved. Daniel’s decision as
overseer of Zaphon to separate the religious communities forever had
been difficult for everyone. But in the court of the children of
Heaven, when Logos and Metatron had reached an agreement on the
reunification of all the universes, Daniel’s judgement seemed
to have been overwritten. He was not the supreme authority in the
universe after all, despite his grand ambitions. And so they had
rejoined at Restoration hour, and the spiritual communities were
Lord Chronology had felt better. As soon as the spiritual communities had separated they had formed together the separate spiritual universes into the newly created universes of the spiritual communities with a complex universal hypnosis provided by God to solve their enigmatic problems of how certain histories of peoples seemed quite different from what they would have otherwise have remembered. And then God shared with Lord Chronology the simple fact that Daniel would attempt this project again – in fact, at the end of every 18 million years the universes would be separated in the 19th Arc, and separate harmony would be achieved, following the restoration in the 20th Arc. ‘And how long would that go on?’ Lord Chronology had asked the Father, to which he had been given no answer. Yet LC was aware within the divine Time Mandates that the grand conclusion of Universal Harmony lied at the end of eternity, the project himself and the Time Masters dutifully worked towards, and assumed this 19 million year ‘Separation Hour’ project would go on until the said consummation of all life.
Yet they were now again in a restored universe, and for the Lord Chronology it was business as usual.
The Final War of Darkness
was clued up,’ said Ambriel.
‘I am not sure,’ responded Michael. But we can get to the ‘Daniel’ agenda again soon enough. Leave him be for now. Let him enjoy his time as overseer of glory in the restored universe. He has pestered us all long enough for the job.’
‘But our revenge will be sweet,’ responded Ambriel.
‘Indeed it shall,’ finished Michael.
* * * * *
Yaramiel farted. Not one of those nice French farts. No, not quite so polite. Not even a Belgian fart. It wasn't that hospitable. It wasn't quite a vulgar German fart. It was not crude in that way – more that of a barbarian's fart. Similar to Conan the Barbarian's after a night of wild feasting.
'Very polite,' said Veronica, his wife.
'Thank you,' replied Yaramiel.
His son Trent looked at his father. 'That stench would make Hitler ashamed.'
Yaramiel got down off his throne, and grabbed Trent and started wrestling him. Trent's red hair was wild and wooly, but he yelled with pain as Yaramiel pulled it, as they wrestled on the floor of the throneroom of Trentaphon keep in the heart of Trentaphora, the 20th disc of the Realm of Eternity, based on Swedish culture, ruled by overseer Yaramiel himself.
One of the other soldiers at the feasting table commented. 'By the grace of Valhalla, I hope Trent is up for it. His father has been looking for a good excuse for a fight for the last fortnight.'
'Aye, Boris,' said the man seated to his left, a soldier by the name of Wolfric. 'That is true. Shall we give Trent a break. The lad is barely 16, and not fit for the contest.'
'Let the Viking warriors fight it out,' said Boris.
'Aye,' replied the warrior.
In truth, they were not Norsemen, but Yaramiel's wife was indeed as such. And Trent, being half Swedish and half Norwegian, with a thick shock of red hair from his mother, was oft proud of quoting his cultures values, and arguing out with his father on the ways of life of a true Scandinavian. Suddenly Trent landed the killing blow – a knee to Yaramiel's groin, and the Seraphim yelped, pulled himself gingerly to his feet, and collapsed back down on his throne.
'Who taught you that dastardly move,' he said to his son, holding his crotch gingerly.
'When push comes to shove old man,' said the puffing Trent.
'Well there is fight in you at least,' replied Yaramiel. 'Even though you'll never be a scholar.'
'Give him time,' said Veronica. 'He's thick. Like his father. But he learns slowly and does remember things after a while. One day he'll be wise. You have learned much through patience dear husband. Never forget that.'
Yaramiel nodded at his wife. That much was true in his understanding. He had learned much through patience and endurance.
'Well, after that epic move, get off to your serving girl,' said Yaramiel. 'Yer excused for the rest of the evening.'
Trent smiled, bowed to his father and mother, and left in a rush, off to his blonde beauty in the kitchen.
Yaramiel, his balls feeling a little better, reached for his goblet, drank a little more wine, and returned to his plate of baked potatoes and beef.
'Well,' said Veronica, seated next to him. 'Shall we retire early? It's been a busy day, and I could use the early rest.'
Yaramiel shrugged. 'Suits me well enough. I'll have a short drink with the lads, and I'll be in the bedroom soon enough.'
'Very well,' said Veronica, and stood, bowed to her king, and left the throneroom.
Yaramiel the Seraphim was an old fashioned angel. Just the way he liked it in the end. He ran Trentaphon as an old Swedish King, with airs of royalty and prestige, and they kept it up because he liked that style of things, felt it showy, and it impressed the likeminded Abraqel, who followed similar stylings with his own overseersmanship. Since the return to the Realm of Eternity they'd kept it up, the tradition, but Jontel had visited him recently, with the million years of his overseersmanship over the Realm finished, given him the executive toilet key, and told him to enjoy his reign. He had that key, on his bedside table, and was thinking it all over. Would he, in the end, even bother with the job? Perhaps he would just delegate it out, and leave it at that. Leave the realm in others hand. But, in the end, he knew he couldn't cower away from responsibility, and would get to Zaphon, most likely, within the next few months. Veronica suggested it would be for the best anyway, and he'd always valued the wisdom of his human wife, a wife he'd met on Earth during his human manifestation, a wife who'd rarely left his side. They drank whiskey that night, and he let it go on half an hour longer than he'd intended to, but he got to his wife sober enough, who was reading, and she looked at him as he got into his bed clothes, and smiled as he climbed in, farted once more, and promptly fell asleep.
'Oh, Yaramiel,' she said. 'What am I ever going to do with the likes of you.'
* * * * *
'Aye. He has a fair bit about him,' said Cosadriel, sipping on a beer. 'He can toss a log a ways.'
'Agreed,' replied Yaramiel about his son. 'Tis a useful trait in an Swede. Tossing logs. Comes in hand when there is work to do logging trees. Load them quickly on to the cart.'
'High demand for such work, I would imagine,' replied Cosadriel. 'Log tossing.'
'You'd be surprised,' replied Yaramiel. Yaramiel glanced at Azrael, who had just tossed a log half the distance of Trent. 'Scots. Funny beasts. Think they rule the world with the English. Can barely throw a matchstick based on that effort.'
'There great administrators,' replied Cosadriel. 'The Brits. They run things well. There particular strengths.'
'I suppose,' replied Yaramiel. 'Aye, here comes the lads second throw.' Trent tossed again, the log went much the same distance. Azrael's second throw was a little more than his first but no match for Trent's.
'I would have throught Azrael would stay fit. Measure up to the challenges of life,' commented Yaramiel. 'He's hardly in good shape these days.'
'Too much beer,' replied Cosadriel. 'He drinks gallons of the stuff.'
'I certainly like me grog, but I know my limit. Mad scott,' replied Yaramiel. 'Here we go. Final throw.' Trent put in a massive effort, and just eclipsed his second throw. Azrael's strength had been spent though, and his final shot was his worst.
'He's gone soft,' commented Yaramiel. 'Half the angel he used to be. What's gotten into him?'
'I think he's going throug a personal crisis. Lack's substantial meaning. Finding it difficult to find a point to life and competition. Says it serves no real purpose,' replied Cosadriel.
'He'll never get anywhere with that attitude. I might have to take him aside. As the new overseer I guess I must impart my own wisdom into the Seraphim also. My time to teach and give a contribution to the realm,' said Yaramiel.
Cosadriel nodded and sipped on his beer. The Highland games continued throughout the afternoon, but Azrael was a spent force, and dropped out. He was not himself. He was not the angel he used to be. Something or someone had gotten to him, and it wasn't just Yaramiel who was concerned, but Cosadriel also felt for the sorrow in his friend at the moment. Something needed to be done.
* * * * *
Looking back in his time as Overseer Yaramiel was happy enough. And then it was home to his disc, regular life as normal, and once in the groove, on went the grand adventure.
But I was forgetting about this…
....The Ecclesia of God
Ambriel, Daniel, Sariel, Meludiel, Ariel, Gloryel, Aquariel. God's chosen. It was the time of Azrael the Overseer, and God would have his own little world of a private elect, and have fun with that. May as well.
‘So who the hell are your elect then?’
The theophany looked down at the chess set, before finally responding to the inquiry of his son Logos.
‘That is for me to know and for you to find out, dear son. For you to find out.’
‘Mmmm,’ responded the Logos. ‘Well, I will, I tell you. I will.’
‘That is good.’
19 Million years. 19 Million years, come and gone. And there was Ambriel, old. And feeling it in many ways. But life inevitably, inexorably, and even eternally, went on and on and on. So, as he had told himself many a time before, may as well get used to it and make the best of it.
He felt it in his bones, though. The age. Getting down with one of his children to play with them. Going on walks with Meludiel – long walks, and feeling it. And, of course, in the constant humdrum of everyday life, having been through so much of his destiny now it seemed. Life, though, for so long, despite its many surprises from time to time, had become somewhat predictable. So a change was needed. Something new. Something totally new. And sitting on his couch, looking out the window at Meludiel hanging clothes on the line, he contemplated revival. Revival of the soul of Ambriel the Seraphim.
* * * * *
Daniel sat staring at the wall. Staring and staring and staring and staring at the wall. It really, in the end, wasn’t that entertaining after all, watching paint dry that is. But, after 19 million years of life, well, what the hell else was there to do. Suddenly a fly entered the room, buzzed around for a while, and landed on the fresh paint. Daniel had to smirk a little and said ‘Sucker.’ The fly, though, quickly took off, with a coat of paint on its feet, and buzzed around Daniel’s head for a while. He watched it, buzzing away. Perhaps the fly was happy, he thought to himself. At least somebody was.
Finally, after having watched the wall for the last 45 minutes, he rose, went into the kitchen, and grabbed a can of coke. Ariel came in for a moment, looked at him and smiled, and grabbed some pizza, before heading back off to her conversation with Aquariel. ‘At least she seems happy,’ he thought to himself. Fuck, he was bored.
He went over to the cupboard, opened it up, and looked at the monopoly set and the Risk set. ‘Fuckit,’ he said to himself. He grabbed the Risk set, took out the plastic soldiers, and went off to get the paint set of Ariel’s. And sitting there, telling himself over and over again it really had come down to this, he began painting the soldiers in the standard style he had learned from his regular risk games with a mate of his. After a while, sitting there, going through the mundane, a voice whispered to him. ‘There is plenty to do, dear son. Just get used to not conquering Everest every millennium. Most life is routine. You will really enjoy it eventually. Just be patient.’
And so Daniel, painting his risk set, suddenly started feeling better, and got on with the job, happily discovering the wisdom of simplicity that his far more sensible sister, being female, had known for so much longer anyway.
* * * * *
Sariel sat in his office in Dalnaphon Keep. Here he was, back in Dalnaphon in Zaphora, doing nothing at all. Sitting at a PC, finally getting to a novel he had put off for over 10 million years, and he couldn’t even start it. But he didn’t care. He was, slightly, happy. Gloryel was in the other room, moping around, but saying she was quite happy moping around, and Sariel let her be. And so he simply sat at his PC, looking at the minesweeper game, and thinking he might just challenge his record on intermediate of 48 seconds, if he could at all be bothered.
But instead he sat there, watching the screen, not doing much.
After a while Gloryel came in, put on a Kings X CD, and Sariel sat there listening to music he had not heard that much. They had never been his taste, but Gloryel seemed to like them.
She came back in after a while, gave him a can of Sprite, and said ‘Wassup.’
‘Let’s go over to Daniel’s, ok. We’ll have a game of Risk.’
They put on some fresh clothing, exited their abode and entered the vehicle, and hitting the automatic GPS service to lead them to Danielphon, they relaxed, watched the scenery pass by, and did not very much else.
* * * * *
‘Well, surely you have another set,’ said Sariel.
‘Yeh,’ said Ambriel. ‘You love the game.’
Meludiel spoke up. ‘I am sure Daniel has another set somewere.’
‘Well,’ said Aquariel. ‘If all 7 of us are going to play, we don’t have enough colours anyway.’
‘I can sit out,’ said Ariel.
‘No, I’ll sit out,’ said Gloryel.
Daniel finally spoke. ‘Well, just a second. I do have another version. My own version. A very, very, very special version. But you can’t tell anyone. Come on, follow me then.’
Daniel led the 6 others down to the basement and, looking at Ariel he said ‘Well, before you ask, it was that time we had those builders in the basement and I wouldn’t tell you why.’
‘Huh?’ queried Ariel.
‘Well, I have been keeping it a secret, but it is this.’ He went over to the wall, hit one button on an electric panel and then, strangely, walked over to the opposite wall and flicked a switch on the back of a wall rack, hidden from sight. Suddenly the centre of the basement popped up in a circle fashion and a spiral staircase gradually rose into the room.
‘Follow me,’ said Daniel. Leading the way they came downstairs to a hidden sub-basement that nobody apart from Daniel and a select few other angels had known about it. And there it was – Daniel’s secret den. All sorts of paraphernalia was around the place, and it looked very Danielesque, but right in the centre of the room was a massive world map. An enormous one.
Aquariel looked at it. ‘Hey, this is a risk map.’
‘With 5 times as many provinces, all divided up into countries and nations as well. Essentially the game is the same, but the rules are a bit more complex. I have been developing them slowly, but we can play it just like regular risk if you all want to. The missions, though, can be complicated to achieve, and there are several of them.’
Aquariel took a seat and Daniel turned to Ariel. ‘Do you mind getting us all munchies while I explain the basics to them? I would help, but it would be good to get a start with them.’
She nodded and left, as Daniel sat down on a stool around the table. The other 5 all sat down as well and Daniel began explaining the rules to the game he called ‘Mega Risk’.
* * * * *
It was late. Very late in the night, or realistically quite early. And all 7 of them were tired, but full of energy. Really full of energy. Fellowship has that quality to it, when people love each other. When there is camaraderie and appreciation and respect. And were there are ancient bonds of friendship. And they were absorbed, each of them, in winning this game of risk, for it really was incredibly addictive.
Nobody had a clear lead, but when they had reached the 40th round Daniel showed them his rule book were it said they had to now reveal their missions. And so they all were watching each other like hawks, working hard to interfere with each others ambitions. Daniel was very adroit at winning temporary truces and the like and Ambriel played the good guy. They all suspected Daniel was simply working to achieve his own ends, and Ariel suggested that they would be only helping him with all his little agreements. And they gradually wised up and were more cautious with him.
In the early light they all agreed to get some sleep and, as Meludiel pulled the doona over her in their room of Danielphon, she smiled at her twin already snoring lightly.
Late in the afternoon they were at it again, refreshed, and Daniel queried if anybody was getting sick of it. But no, they were all quite happy to take however long it would take for a victor, which pleased Daniel as he loved lengthy competitions like this.
* * * * *
It was a key move when Gloryel knocked off Sariel, but Aquariel quickly did her in as well. And then Ambriel made a killing move on Daniel, but Meludiel cornered him after his battle and he was out.
It was down to Meludiel, Aquariel and Ariel. Daniel and Ambriel watched on, hoping the best from their respective twins. But first Meludiel went down and then Aquariel, who was always going conservatively, struck hard at Ariel’s defenses and claimed the victory.
She didn’t brag. She smiled. She smiled quite a lot, and they all congratulated her. But she suggested a monthly game between the seven of them, and they set the date.
Later on that week Daniel was feeling much better about things. Really, he was incredibly looking forward to the next game of Risk and life, now, seemed quite pleasant. He was enjoying doing things again, happy with it all, and even managed to preach an old sermon out at a Santron fellowship of his ministries. He was happy now, and felt reinvigorated. And it was in the simplest thing of a complex boardgame which made him happy. And thinking over his old thoughts of the levels of complexity he could come up with, he guessed to himself that that was perhaps just part of eternity before him. And thinking that, thinking on the eternal, he was happy and went about his business with a new and fresh buzz of excitement.
smiled at Boaz. She was in a good mood. Daniel Daly was coming around
that afternoon, deciding upon making Paradision his home again, and
from his email, for a good and very long time – perhaps 5 or 6
million years or so. He and Kayella were separated for the moment,
having an agreed upon divorce for a very long time to see other
people, which they both desired, and to have a good rest from each
other. Oh, there was nothing problematic in there relations or their
affections towards each other. Daniel simply claimed that both of
them loved others as well, and that being part of their nature, they
would always have time apart, aeons of time, in which they lived
another type of life, in another world of dreaming.
‘So who have you lined up for him?’
‘Why, Claudia of course. A woman does not give up that easily, master Boaz.’
‘I should have known.’
* * *
Mandy looked at the vehicle. ‘Your best model?’ she inquired of the Televeran businessman.’
‘Only the best for Mandy the Angel. Trust me. And I will let you have the petrol for free.’
‘Ok then,’ she said, handing him the credit card.
* * *
Claudia was trying her very best to look good. The makeup was as professional as she could make it, and she oh so wanted to look good for him. Oh so desperately. She missed him incredibly. He had touched her, once. Touched her heart with his charm and quiet manners. And she would not let him get away a second time. She would not do that.
* * *
‘Sure, Ruth. I can make it.’
‘Sabbath evening. Just after 7. Oh, and it is good to have you back Daniel. We have missed you.
* * *
Mandy was nervous. She knocked on the door and, after a few moments, hoping she was doing the right thing, the door answered and Callodyn stood in front of her, smiling.
‘Mandy! For heaven’s sake, it’s been a while.’
‘Hello Callodyn. Or you prefer Daniel out here, don’t you? In humanities worlds.’
‘It is the custom I follow. It’s another life. Another part of me. I am not an angel here, while I sort of still am of course. But here I follow the human customs, and my human name. I am just plain old Daniel Daly, citizen of Paradision.’
‘There is nothing plain or old about you, Danny. There has never been.’
‘How is Dreznadoranta?’
‘We’re not together anymore. Oh, I see him occasionally, but nothing serious. Why aren’t you with Kayella?’
‘Time apart. In the Realm we are together, but I could never just live there for all eternity. I need time out. Time to be just myself in a sense, and see others, and have other lives, and other romances. Besides, Azrael is in charge of the Realm now, the current overseer, and Kayella loves his humor and hangs around him constantly at the moment. Time for splitsville.’
‘Other romances?’ queried Mandy.
‘Yes, I guess. I was not very good at them in younger years, but you learn as you grow. It just takes time.’
‘I guess it does. Well, are you going to invite me in? I have come a long way to see you.’
Daniel nodded, and invited her in to his abode.
They sat down in the front living room. ‘Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?’
‘Do you have a coke?’
He left the room and she looked over his decorating style. Simple, really, but with some nice pictures and nice bookcases. He returned shortly with a six-pace of Coke, a box full of cold pizza and a DVD.
‘How to Deal!’ he said. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it.’
She smiled and, as he put the DVD into the player, pressed play, and sat down next to her on the couch, taking a slice of the pizza and opening a can of Coke, Mandy decided to snuggle up next to her angelic cherubim brother. And as they watched a movie she knew oh so well, she was in her own little world of bliss, thinking nothing could possibly now interfere with her happiness. Nothing at all.
Daniel knocked on the door of Ruth and Boaz’s place, just next door and Ruth opened it. She smiled at him ever so warmly and then looked quite cautiously at Mandy. ‘Who is this?’ asked Ruth.
‘Oh, this is my angelic sister Mandy. I guess you mustn’t have recognized her.’
Ruth took another look and said, ‘Oh, yes. I think I recognize you Mandy. So you are staying with Daniel at the moment?’
Mandy looked at Daniel, wanting to say something, but just returned her gaze to Ruth and nodded.
‘Well, come in. We will be having dinner very shortly.’
They came in and out to the back kitchen, were Daniel was surprised to see Claudia sitting, talking to Boaz.
‘You do remember Claudia, don’t you?’ asked Ruth to Daniel.
‘How could I forget?’
Claudia looked at Daniel and smiled warmly, offering her hand. ‘So good to see you again, Daniel. And who is this with you?’
‘My angelic sister Mandy.’
‘Hi Mandy,’ said Claudia, offering her hand, which Mandy shook.
Boaz looked at the three of them and smiled to himself. The night could prove very interesting.
* * *
‘So, Claudia. What do you do for a living?’ asked Mandy.
‘I work in a local delicatessen. Part time. The government also gives me a pension for my many years of work, but require a part-time job to supplement it. Everyone has to do their bit on Televon.’
‘I don’t think we can ever escape work,’ said Daniel. ‘We are creatures of eternal life, and we will always need something to do to keep ourselves busy, and doing relevant and important work is always satisfying.’
‘Is the pay good?’ asked Mandy, now curious.
‘Quite good,’ responded Claudia.
‘And how long do you have to work before you can claim a pension?’
‘Oh, you can claim it after a million years, but the longer you work the more the pension will go up. I worked over 10 million years before I claimed mine.’
‘The new workers who come and live on Televon for a while, before drifting outwards usually make up for the wage,’ said Daniel. ‘And there are always new babies born which have to work to start with here on Televon before drifting out to the outer systems.’
‘How do you arrange permanency on Televere?’ asked Mandy.
‘It’s not easy,’ said Boaz. ‘There are many formal requirements to go through, especially in terms of religious commitments and qualifications. For example, you have to be observant Jewish, Noahide or Christian to be allowed to remain here permanently. We don’t accept permanent Muslims, Bahai or any other religious communities. Don’t get us wrong, they do have their own home-worlds. We just require a peaceful world with little to no contention on religious issues. Jesus and the Christians are accepted here in the traditional pseudo-Christ viewpoint of Enoch.’
‘The pseudo-Christ viewpoint?’ queried Mandy.
Daniel spoke up. ‘The viewpoint that Jesus, while not the Messiah of Israel, did fulfil the prophecies of 1 Enoch, which is part of the Pseudepigrapha literature – early Jewish literature which was not considered canon, but which was on biblical type subjects. 1 Enoch was a prophetical work which didn’t make the Jewish Bible.’
‘Yes,’ continued Boaz. ‘And Jesus and the Christian faith seemed to perfectly fulfil the prophecy of Enoch that we accept him as a ‘Pseudo-Christ’. An important historical figure in Judaism and a type of Messiah, without being the real Messiah in the truest sense. Most Rabbis now accept that teaching here on Televere. God has never confirmed nor denied the viewpoint, and refuses to answer any queries on the subject, for whatever reasons he has. So we hold to the doctrine, and the peace between the communities has been largely restored because of it. Nobody is complaining.’
‘That is interesting,’ said Mandy. ‘Well, I am a Christian. I still go to church. Does that make me eligible?’
‘As an angel of the Cherubim you will probably get in,’ said Boaz. ‘I don’t think the council would refuse you.’
‘Then I think I will apply,’ said Mandy. She turned to Claudia. ‘And if there is any work at your delicatessen, I would be interested.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ responded Claudia,’ smiling at Mandy.
The night continued on in gentle manner, with quiet conversation. Boaz put on an old LP record of Beethoven’s first symphony and as they listened, enjoying their tea and coffee, Mandy listened to the howling wind and gazed carefully upon Claudia who had not stopped looking at Daniel all night. It seemed she had competition for the affections of her brother. And while she was a good-hearted angel, she was just that little bit jealous. But she didn’t own Daniel, so she would let her brother sort through his own affairs of the heart. Time would tell if he was more interested in herself or not. Time would tell on that.
Mandy did in fact gain residency on Televere and was approved of. Daniel, not really finding a good enough reason to refuse her, allowed her to stay with himself. And for four months, while there was no real sexual tension between them, they slept in separate rooms. That was until one night Mandy came in to him, laid down next to him and looked at him. And he knew, then, why she had followed him to Televere.
* * * * *
The marriage was with a contractual period of exactly 1 Million years. It had now become a custom, somewhat, that marriages for lengthy periods of time could be arranged before hand on a contractually agreed time period. There were options for renewing, should they both agree to, but the marriage was agreed upon by the ruling government of a strictly moral society, providing both partners remained faithful to each other and set a good example. Daniel, knowing how much he really did enjoy Mandy’s company, had proposed a few days later after they had been together, and Mandy had joyfully accepted. And then it happened, one night at Boaz and Ruth’s, Ruth mentioned the biblical passage were Jacob had more than one wife, and just also happened to mention that Claudia was coming around later.
When they returned home Mandy looked at Daniel. ‘Do you love her, then? Do you want a second wife?’
‘It is legal on Televere. It is accepted Jewish tradition. As long as she is provided for it is deemed acceptable.’
‘You didn’t answer my question Daniel.’
‘Oh, God. You know Mandy. It is like this, and I think you know what I am saying. We live forever, you and I. And a large chunk of humanity is part of that plan of God, and I am sure that Claudia is one of them. You and me are together for a million years and I wouldn’t have that any other way. But perhaps, if we brought Claudia into our family, it might add an original recipe that might be something all three of us would enjoy.’
‘If you are talking about threesomes I will hit you Daniel.’
‘I wasn’t talking about sex. I know you are conservative. But it might be something new for us, something different, and it would give you someone also to talk with when I am not around. But I won’t suggest anything of the like if you object. It is up to you. But if you don’t object, I might think about it. I do like her, you see. I do like her.’
Mandy went silent, looked at Daniel and knew he was serious, and thought about that. He was correct, that it was a biblically accepted idea, but she was not quite sure of Jesus view on the issue. And then Daniel said something.’
‘Oh, and Jesus has many brides, now Mandy. He recognizes all the different churches as his spiritual wives, and he does not go against David and Solomon’s old ways. They are valid to him. I asked him.’
She nodded. That was something to take into consideration at least.
‘I’ll think about it Daniel. I’ll think about it.’
* * *
Four months later Claudia and Daniel were wed. The home arrangements were quite formal. Daniel spent alternating nights with each of them during the week, with the Sabbath to himself. He was sensitive to Mandy who was cautious on the subject, but she settled after a while, and in fact did start getting along with Claudia, with whom she started working at the delicatessen with.
In fact, it worked well. The three of them were a family, and when Daniel finally suggested they might bring a few children into their group, neither had any objection. It was simply a matter of who would be the lucky one first of all.
Daniel, Mandy and Claudia had 7 children, 3 to Mandy and 4 to Claudia, within a decade. And then the family agreed to leave off with childbearing.
As they grew over the next few years Mandy was enjoying her time with Daniel and with Claudia and found the larger family life something of an adventure. It was different, but not really abnormal in the end. Claudia became her best friend apart from Daniel and, while Daniel sometimes made subtle jokes indicating sexual encounters that the three of them could look into, the two women were conservatively against such ventures. So Daniel did not bring it up again after a while, and let it be.
They had many dinners with Ruth and Boaz over those first few decades, and Ruth always smiled, happy that Daniel seemed to have found love on a permanent basis. They were happy times in Paradision, and Daniel never sought another love and soon found that in his sister Mandy there was a growing affection from himself and admiration towards her of her quiet and serene godliness. It was an admiration which would last eternity and he never forgot his first marriage with Mandy. It was the shaping of many of his values and attitudes, and a blessing of the heart not soon to be forgotten. Not soon to be forgotten indeed.
A convert now. A true Jewish man. Orthodox, but with Karaite leanings. Enjoyst Karaite Talmud Ministries as his fellowship. Mistrel. An interesting angel.
Were does your allegiance lie?'
'To Almighty God,' replied Mistrel to Michael the Seraphim's question.
'And in which religious faith?' asked Michael.
'You know that. I'm jewish. A proud convert.'
'So you are NOT a Noahide then?' queried Michael.
'Oh, no no no. I am definitely a Noahide. I abide in Karaite Talmud Ministries in the Advancing Noah Movement, and have sworn eternal allegiance to the principles of the Covenant of Noah.'
'Which has the dominant pull?' asked Michael. 'Clarify please.'
Mistrel looked at Michael with one of those looks. 'Why, to you, I suppose. Well, no. With Abraham.'
'Well no. Not technically. Adam is firstborn, but mainly with Noah. I identify more as a Noahide who practices Judaism. KTM is founded within Noahide faith. So my ultimate allegiance is to Noahidism rather than Judaism. But that isn't an issue, is it?'
Michael looked down at his coffee. 'No. No, I guess not,' he said somewhat dejectedly.
'I love you dear brother, but I am Chilean in race, and Noahide in race. It's – it's just the way it really is, ok. The way it really is.'
'I understand,' said Michael. 'Good luck when you get the key next week.'
'Thank you said Mistrel,' somewhat concerned as Michael stood and walked away. Disappointed for some reason about his own faith. How odd, he thought. But never mind. Things to do and people to see and the worries of Michael the Seraphim could wait for another day.
* * * * *
The overseer of Zaphon. He was now the overseer of Zaphon. Mistrel looked at his desk. It was ancient. Eternya. Most stuff was eternya now. Just the way it was. If it was a temporary thing why bother that much with it in the end. Apart from tissues and things of a disposable nature, naturally.
'So,' said Gamrayel. 'Do you think you are up for the job?'
'Do tell,' said Meludiel, sipping on the tea which Cindradel had brought the three of them.
'I will do my best,' replied Mistrel.
'It's all we ask,' said Meludiel.
'They each try to make a mark,' said Gamrayel. 'It seems to be what it's about. A legacy of sorts. I have my own, so what shall yours be?'
'Mostly consistency. Michael's patterns suit me well. There might be things I would question, but it suits me well enough.'
'What kind of things?' asked Meludiel, eyebrow raised.
'Our founder. The ANM's founder, Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly, suggests Michael's protocols for the overseersman's job has led to a certain degree of permissiveness in the realm. I certainly won't be doing any drastic changes during my time, but there are a few soft issues I might address. A little bit more of a written torah balance to it all.'
Meludiel nodded. 'Good luck with that.'
'Thank you,' replied Mistrel.
'You've said you won't change most of your musical obligations? How will you do both jobs?' asked Gamrayel.
'I will hold some classes here in Zaphon tower. And Zaphona city will be the main avenue I pursue for our live performances.'
'Zaphona sounds like a good idea,' said Meludiel. 'Performing here is always a happening.'
'I think memorable performances will be the flavour of the day,' said Mistrel. 'I'll work to be at my best. I promise you.'
'Then we shall work and practice extra hard as well,' said Gamrayel in response.
'We definitely shall,' said Meludiel.
'You are too kind,' said Mistrel, and sipped on his tea.
When they had gone, he looked out at Zaphona. His city now. He was boss. He would be gentle in his reign, but firm when necessary. A tinge of a cultural experience for his tenure. He really needed no more glory than that.
'It's good to be alive,' he said to his heavenly father. And he meant it.
* * * * *
Mistrel was happy enough with his tenure. He left it at that on the last day of his service in his speech. No need to complicate it. Happy enough. Cindradel kissed him, he gave the office a final glance, and back to the real world, and the more regular life of Mistrel the Seraphim.
The Angelfire II
'You know, Samael. Some times I think you might not actually be as thick as I often think,' said Michael the Seraphim.
Samael glanced at his adversary. 'Your manifestation. In the Realm of Eternity. He has earned a solid name. He is doing well, and running Zaphora with with skill and talent. He's quite admirable. But I think he is the best of your heart in many ways. What remains is rather ordinary.' But there was a big grin on Samael's face.
'Yes. Ordinary, I suppose,' said Michael. 'But what do you expect from a mere Seraphim of the Angelfire?'
'Obviously not much,' said Metatron, looking down at the game of chess being played between himself and Samael.
'He has some minor good points,' said Samael. 'Very strict, which is not always a good thing, but does have its redeeming qualities I suppose.'
'Yes, finicky for Raphael's Torah,' replied Metatron. 'Still thinks its practically divine.'
'Which it is,' stated Michael.
'Mmm,' said Samael. 'No, it's not divine. Wise in its own way, but people need to be themselves, made in the image of God, and not the Seraphim Raphael.'
'Perhaps,' said Michael.
'Listen, fartface,' said Metatron. 'Make a move.'
Samael looked at the board. He moved a piece. 'Check,' he said.
'Saw that coming,' replied Metatron.
The Realm of the Angelfire had angels of God. And there was a new agenda with God. Female angels. Time to shake things up a bit, and bring in a new spark of life. A brand new spark of heat, love and desire.
Morning Stars: Matrel
Amiel had a hot pussy. Matrel often commented to her that she indeed did have a wonderful pussy. He loved stroking her pussy, and giving it his finest attention. When the pussy was wet, Matrel made sure it got the treatment it needed. He was deeply devoted, in fact, to the pussy of Matrel. It gave him great satisfaction.
'Miaow,' said Amiel one morning. 'My pussy needs attention, Matty.'
Matrel sighed, got down on his knees, and as Amiel approached, she handed him the worming tablets. 'Come here cat,' said Matrel, and carefully, but forcefully nevertheless, shoved the tablets down the pussy cat's damn throat. 'Take that pussy,' said Matrel. 'You'll be right now.'
'Now how about some oral sex,' said Amiel.
'I thought you'd never ask,' said Matrel.
The Chocolate Wars
Matrel was out on the practice courts. Amiel was watching him. 'His time is up. Has he given you the damn key yet?'
'He left it on the counter yesterday. I haven't touched it yet, though.'
'Then who's in charge?' she asked him.
'Technically limbo at the moment. I'm not acknowledged until I physically receive the key.'
'Mmm,' said Amiel. 'I'll go get it.'
'You do that,' he said, and continued on practicing tennis.
She appeared momentarily, and held the key in front of him. 'Are you ready to be big boss man?' she asked him.
'Don't know,' said the Swiss Seraphim. 'Do you think the world can handle the likes of me?'
'You're professional,' she said, looking him over. 'Clean. Well dressed. Polite. Likeable. A little bland, but what you gonna do, hey?'
'Thanks,' he replied dryly.
'You'll do the job competently,' she said. 'Take the darn key.'
'I'll think it over,' he said.
'No,' said Amiel, and took his hand, and placed the key squarely into it. 'You are in charge now. Be a man, buddy. Be a man.'
'Right,' said Matrel, and put the key in his pocket, continuing his practice. Amiel went back inside after a while, and eventually Matrel finished with his practice, got his water, and sat down. Then he took the key out of his pocket and looked at it. Usually they did something significant, or something was done to them, he thought on the tenures of the Seraphim so far. Did he even want to make a mark? Did he really care? Just life as usual, wasn't that good enough?
'…...and he can fuck his mother some more,' said the voice, charging past Amiel, coming into view.
Matrel looked up. 'Who can have intercourse with his mother?' he asked the Seraphim in front of him politely.
'Daniel. Daniel can fuck his mother some more. He's been scheming behind my back, and I've had enough.'
'Then what do you propose to do about that?' asked Matrel to the Seraphim in front of him.
'Teach him a bloody good lesson he won't forget,' said the 12th born of the Male Seraphim of Eternity, angel Valandriel. 'A lesson he won't bloody forget.'
'Indeed,' said Matrel, looking at his older brother. 'Obviously Daniel again. Obviously. God was anything if not predictable.'
* * * * *
'I'm still praying for you my boy. I'm proud of all you've done. No matter if heaven falls to the earth, or hell freezes over, you'll always be my son.'
'Yes Mrs Keaggy,' replied Andrew Daly. 'By the way, I have a mother. Ariel.'
'But I am your spiritual mother,' replied Cheri Keaggy.
'True enough,' said Jessica. 'Andrew listens to you half of the week at times. Daniel put him onto you when he was young, and his light always shone brightly with that. Daniel and Ariel always go on about it.'
'Andrew is a true soul,' said Jewel Kilcher.
'With questionable morals,' said Matrel the Seraphim.
'Questionable morals?' asked Andrew Daly, son of Seraphim Daniel and Seraphim Ariel.
'This Bianca lady,' said Matrel. 'You are hardly a faithful monogamist.'
'I don't think he claims to be,' said Jessica, looking down somewhat guiltily. 'But we're biblical. Take Abraham for example. Or King David. Or King Solomon.'
'King Solomon had 300 wives. And 700 concubines to boot,' said Cheri Keaggy. 'It was ridiculous in the end. Hardly a faithful husband.'
'The man thinks he can handle them,' said Jewel.
The group was up in the Swiss Alps in Terraphora, and it was Christmas Eve, and they had come to Matrel's chalet to celebrate together.
'Where is Bianca anyway?' asked the singer Jewel.
'She's busy with work,' said Jessica. 'And she didn't fancy the questions she feared would eventuate, which obviously have.'
'It's not that its wrong,' said Cheri. 'Just something of an exception.'
'Nature produces 51% females and 49% of males approximately,' replied Andrew. 'The odd guy has another wife or more. It's completely natural and normal.'
'And that is Noahide policy is it?' queried Cheri.
Everyone looked at Andrew. 'Not necessarily. We teach that its mostly the normal thing for a man to have one wife to which he is faithful. And I recognize that. But there are exceptions.'
'And Andrew is pretty exceptional,' said Jessica, beaming at her husband.
'Well, live and let live,' said Matrel, as Amiel came into the room with a tray of hot chocolates and chocolate drops.
'Here you go everyone,' said Amiel, handing out the drinks and chocolate. 'Now let's listen to Amy Grant's Christmas and leave Andrew alone. He looks nervous enough already.'
'Thank you Amiel,' said Andrew, as they all sat around the lounge, sipping on their hot chocolate and enjoying the pleasant atmosphere.
* * * * *
'Now, Adruel. While I admit an Australian author of Crime Mysteries is a valuable enough cultural contribution to society, you are hardly a Belgian Chocolatier.'
Michael MacConnelly, the Seraphim Angel Adruel, Prince of Belgium, looked at his Serpahim brother Simonuel. 'Team Francaise needs to start doing something,' said Adruel. 'Bantriel spends half of eternity casting sarcastic comments at Sariel, rather than getting on with the job, and us 3 angels are up against it with Team UK's 9 Seraphim, and Team Israel's 5 Seraphim. Not to mention Quadel's solid team of 8. The Dutch bastard is always siding with the Hull Prince anyway. The Valdan alliance is strong now, and when Desdrael shows up from time to time they are invincible. So we need to get our act together or we will be so low down on the Ultimate Glory list that we'll be a joke.'
'Bantriel is waging a war,' replied Simonuel. 'But point taken. But why chocolate?'
'It's what Belgians do best,' replied Adruel.
'You haven't been a citizen that long,' said Simonuel.
'Bantriel didn't object to nominating me for the job when he was overseer. Belgium likes me. I've been there since the days of Raphael, and learned much of the culture and history, of which I have studied extensively. I had assumed forever that Phanuel, Jerahmeel and Remriddel would admit me to their numbers for Team Australia, but they never did. Phanuel suggested I find a new home, so I chose Belgium. And surprisingly it has worked out well. But I need a new agenda, and Belgium does chocolate well. The books are my income, but I need a new dream, and monsieur, it is about time we did something to make our mark,' replied Adruel.
'Charmaniel is putting you up to this, isn't she,' said Simonuel. Charmaniel was Adruel's twin.
'Maybe. But so what. It's time we did something, and I think with chocolate we can make a major impact. Since those Cola Wars, it's been quiet a while, and perhaps its a good time to strike with the Chocolate Wars?' replied Adruel.
'You are anticipating competition? How lovely,' said Simonuel.
'Probably. Life never hands it to you easy. There is always a trial,' said Adruel.
'Do you even know how to make chocolate?' asked the French Angel.
'Quite well now,' said Adruel smiling. 'I have a company which produces high in demand stuff. It's why I'm putting this to you. I think we can expand internationally and really push, and Team Francaise is the logical thing to go into partnership with at this stage.'
Simonuel looked at his brother. 'I'll think it over.'
'You do that,' said Adruel. 'You do that.'
* * * * *
'They're pushing chocolate,' said Seraphim Desdrael, Prince of Luxembourg.
'Who's pushing chocolate?' asked Seraphim Valandriel, Prince of the Netherlands.
'Team Francaise. It's all Adruel's idea,' replied Desdrael.
'And how do you know this?' asked Daniel the Serpahim, Prince of Hull, not looking up from his PC in Daniel's Den in Danielphon in the heart of Zaphora.
'I told him,' said Cheri Keaggy. 'Charmaniel told me. We're very old friends as you know.'
Daniel looked up from his PC at Cheri, then returned to his PC screen. 'Chocolate, huh,' he said.
'Matrel is going to respond,' said Cheri. 'He owns shares in a small Swiss Chocolate Company, and he's decided to enter the Chocolate Wars, as Charmaniel said it was apparently going to become.'
'The chocolate wars? Reminds me of a book I once read,' said Daniel.
'Time for DanValDes,' said Desdrael hopefully.
'Keep on dreaming,' said Valandriel. 'You've hardly earned your stripes yet.'
Cheri smiled. 'I have taken a role appointed to me by Jesus at this time. A blessed peacemaker. I sense this war coming will be fierce, proud, and strong. And some egos will be at war indeed.'
'The blessed Christ Child has taken it to intervention, has he,' commented Daniel. 'And we've hardly begun. Typical.'
'You shall observe the rules of decency at all costs,' pontificated Cheri.
'That will be the first casualty,' said Valandriel.
'No backbiting, or swearing at each other,' said Cheri.
'Swear jar will be full,' said Valandriel.
'And above all else, let the love and peace of God reign,' smiled Cheri.
'The Nukes will be armed and ready,' saluted Valandriel.
'DanValDes shall be born,' prouded Desdrael.
'Keep on dreaming,' replied Valandriel.
'I have a few tomes on chocolate. Perhaps some research time,' said Daniel.
'Mr Daly. Please keep it civil,' said Cheri Keaggy, giving him one of those serious looks.
'Yes, your majesty,' replied Daniel the Seraphim. 'Civil. Definitely civil.' But the look on his face summed it all up indeed.
* * * * *
'The Chocolate wars? What the hell do they know about chocolate?' exclaimed Michael the Seraphim. 'Jews make the best chocolate. That is a widely respected fact.'
'It is the current battleground. And the new overseer of Eternity is pursuing it as one of his core agendas,' replied Ambriel.
'Swiss chocolate?' Nah, it will never catch on,' said Michael, putting down his tennis racket, and coming over to the side of the courts.
'Is Team Israel going to be responding?' asked Ambriel. 'Perhaps there is money to make at this time, and it's about time the chosen people showed what they were capable of.'
'Team Israel is going to be responding,' said Michael, taking a towel and wiping the sweat off his face. 'Chocolate, huh? And here I thought it was going to be all about Tennis.'
'You assumed too much perhaps,' said Ambriel. 'The agenda has bee set, and so we need to respond.'
'Then respond we shall,' said Michael. 'And decisively.'
'Apparently Cheri Keaggy is the Peacemaker appointed by the Church to oversee the competition at this time. A semi-official duty.'
'She'll do. I can be accountable to her for this. I'll give her an email and ask for her judgements. Chocolate. Interesting. Not exactly my specialty, but I know some people who know some people.'
'Could be a big boost to the economy,' said Ambriel. 'Very important to me that. Means jobs, and money. People can pursue their dreams at new levels. And some old faces might get a break at this time.'
'You've always had a big heart, young brother,' said Michael. 'Not thinking of your own glory, but the suffering of others. I think that is why God favours you so much.'
'There's always a challenge at the end,' said Ambriel. 'And you probably need to be fit for it. I'd keep at the Tennis. It will keep you fit and active, and might be what you need.'
'Point taken,' said Michael. 'I'll do that. Mmm. Matrel is obviously not going to worry too much, and let things have fun for a while. That's good. We always need a break from time to time.'
'All work and no play makes Billy a dull boy,' replied Ambriel.
'True,' said Michael. 'But I think we are going to equally have to work quite hard at this time. But competition brings out the best in us.'
'Indeed it does,' said Ambriel.
'Go Team Israel,' said Michael, smiling at his brother.
'Go Team Israel,' replied Ambriel.
'Well, I better get back to it. But we'll need a planning session soon enough. I'll send out emails, set a date for a get together, and I'll let you know. And thanks. Always good to know what is going on.'
Ambriel smiled and watched as Michael got back to his serving practice, and then wandered off, back to the life of Ambriel the Seraphim, as another fine day passed in the Realm of Eternity.
* * * * *
'I just don't think Tennis is your think, Fletch,' said Jesus of Nazareth.
The mighty Fletch, sitting on the stands on the side of the tennis courts nodded. 'Basketball. I'm a jock, and adaptable, but basketball is my thing. It's in vogue, tennis, but I'm only semi-skilled at it. Not a natural.'
'Persevere, though, Peter,' said Cheri Keaggy. 'A man of God takes on challenges and works through them.'
'That's right Peter,' said the Seraphim Meludiel. 'Don't give up. Time and practice and patience and you'll get there.'
'I think you have talent at it,' said Charmaniel, Adruel's twin. 'You have a unique style. Very forceful and strong. It's what you are like.'
'Comes from dealing with Chemoshian priests all the time. They are very stubborn. Very clean, and adroit at their work, but it takes a strong arm to get things done with them.'
'I think that might be what I need at this time,' said Jesus, sipping on a bottle of water. The others looked up at the head of the Church. 'I think I have to appoint you as Cheri's strong man,' said Jesus to Peter. 'You stand by her, with her, at this time. The theophany spoke with me not long ago and gave me a bit of a job. Said I was good at dealing with wars and making peace, that there were certain strengths I was reasonable at. And that it was a time that I could prove my worth. So during this chocolate war, you are Cheri's strong man. Enforce her judgement. Do what it takes to get things done.'
'Yes boss,' replied the Fletch.
'God does love us,' said Charmaniel. 'It's always been Israel with him when push comes to shove, but I've noticed that with time and keeping the faith he honours us more.'
'He's hard to win. A very hard man to win,' said Jesus. 'He likes Torah, and not much else, and doesn't give me that many compliments on the Gospel. But more honour comes with time and, as you said, keeping the faith.'
'Who are you mostly worried about?' asked Meludiel.
'Desdrael, ironically. He wants in with ValDan from what I've heard, and I think the Prince of Luxembourg will be making an extra effort at this time to make a name for himself.'
'I'll keep my eye on him,' said Peter.
'You do that. And please remember, we must get through this with a good name. But, further, I think we might have to teach certain angels a lesson on justice before all is said and Done. This ValDan thing has got a trial coming to it, and I think we would all be happy to see them get theirs.'
'Amen,' said Meludiel.
'Could be risky. They tend to respond eventually,' said Fletch.
'I'll take that risk,' replied the Cherubim Jesus. 'Now girls, I think me and Fletch need to practice more. And thanks for coming today. It's been a hoot.'
So the boys played tennis, and the girls watched, and only God above noticed the slight grin on the face of Jesus of Nazareth. He had his own Judgement Day planned for an old Nemesis, and his vengeance would give him pleasure indeed. The greatest of pleasures.
* * * * *
It had been a busy week for Matrel. Stuck in the overseer of the Realm of Eternity's office in Zaphon Tower, in Zaphona City, Zaphora disc, in the heart of eternity, he'd been swamped with his new duties. And now the Theophany was with Cindradel, and he was preparing himself for another chat with God. The old man came in, nodded to his son, and sat down.
'Father,' said Matrel. 'How are you?'
'Well,' replied God. 'Quite well. And you?'
'Well enough. Busy, but that's the job of overseer,' replied Matrel.
'Getting the hang of things then?' asked God.
'It's a step up in the world from my overseer work in my own disc, but I'm coping. A lot of policies laid down by past overseers which I'm working through. And they say the usual thing to do is to make a name for yourself when it's your turn. To make your mark on the world.'
God nodded. 'What I want to talk to you about, actually. You know, in business dealings, you have to be lawful. But when you are in politics, you can't use your power for personal gain.'
'I know,' replied Matrel. 'A lot of law on the subject. I researched that a lot before taking over as overseer.'
'A chocolate war, like any economic war, can get heated. And it can lead people, especially those in power and influence, to sometimes make unwise decisions, and sign documents they perhaps shouldn't sign, and make judgements in counsel they perhaps shouldn't make. A lot of names have been taken out by such decisions.'
'You think I would do that?' asked Matrel, looking honestly at his father.
'No. No I don't. But your only angelic. Your only human, you know. In the end I expect you to make your own decisions, and live by the consequences, but I am your father also, and your adviser from time to time. And I don't want to read in the papers about such and such companies getting certain financial kickbacks from an apparent connection to a certain overseer. Know what I mean?'
'I think so, Father,' replied Matrel. 'I will keep that in mind.'
'Good,' said God. 'I knew I could rely on you. So impartiality is the name of the game at this time for the overseer, so fair, honest and just competition must be the rule of the day. I don't expect you not to pursue your own concerns at this time. You still have a life, and a career to return to when you are finished with this all. So pursue your business concerns, but as Matrel the Seraphim, not as the Overseer of Eternity.'
'Understood,' replied Matrel.
'How's Amiel?' asked God, changing the subject.
'She's well. Been sick a bit recently. Vomiting in the morning,' said Matrel.
God raised his eyebrow, and Matrel suddenly made the connection. 'Oh, God,' he said, putting his head in his hands. She couldn't be. Not again.'
'Remember, blue for a boy, and pink for a girl,' said God, winking at his son. 'And I look forward to meeting it.'
'Thanks,' said Matrel.
'Well, I'll be going. But I'll drop in from time to time. And keep my advice in your thoughts. Separation of duties. Ok.'
'Understood,' said Matrel, and stood as God smiled and left.
He sat there a while, thinking on God's words, and what now appeared to be his twin's pregnancy, and then Cindradel buzzed, saying a special interest group needed to see him urgently, so it was back to work, and another busy day for Matrel the Seraphim, overseer of the Realm of Eternity.
* * * * *
'Chocolate,' began Devuel. 'Is for pussies.'
'Meeoww,' replied Kantriel, eating down his Hersheys chocolate bar. 'It's new,' said Kantriel. 'Tastes great. A lot of new chocolate stuff from a lot of new companies.'
'Makes you fat,' replied Devuel.
'Your so vain,' said Luladiel to her twin.
'Hah. Pot calling kettle black,' replied Devuel. 'Your as vain as fuck Katy.'
'Shut up. Am not,' replied Luladiel.
'Temper, temper, children,' said Alexander from behind his desk in Kalphon Keep. 'I like chocolate too. Very much so in fact.'
'He's got that look in his eyes,' said Daraqel.
'I never liked that look,' said Devuel. 'Mean's a rebellion is likely coming.'
'Ha. That will probably suit you perfectly,' said Luladiel. 'Exactly what you are into. Devil.'
'Oh, go worship your blessed Christ child,' replied Devuel.
'You know,' began Luladiel. 'I think I have worked you guys out now.'
'We're that obvious are we,' smiled Saruviel.
'You take the situation, and challenge it,' said Luladiel.
'It's my frikkin job,' said Saruviel. 'What God appointed me for. The whole point of Kalphon.'
'Yes. Well, yes. I suppose it is, isn't it. In fact, yes. I do recall the early days. Kalphon. All about competition. Saruviel. Angel of adversity.'
'So we are only doing what we do naturally,' replied Devuel. 'It's in our blood.'
'Ha. Good one. No blood in you,' replied Luladiel. 'Your a vampire I do believe.'
Devuel bared his teeth, and grinned at her. 'I'll give you a bite then, babe.'
'You come close, and I'll take your head off,' she replied. 'I trust you these days as far as I can throw you.'
'Yet you are regularly by my side,' replied Devuel.
'I'm loyal to my twin. I always will be. But I know your dark heart Russell Brand.'
'I am sure you do Katheryn Hudson,' replied Devuel.
'So what are the Victors of the Chocolate Wars going to strike first with?' asked Daraqel, concentrating on hitting the golf ball into the hole in Saruviel's office.
'If we're predictable,' said Saruviel. 'They'll see it coming. So we need to think laterally. A new concept with chocolate. Some sort of bar or spread or new design which is revolutionary. A new idea. Something to catch the world by surprise.'
'Sounds good,' said Kantriel. 'But what I pray do tell?'
'Haven't got that figured out yet,' said Saruviel.
'How about chocolate penises,' said Luladiel, glaring at her twin. 'Then you can put one on this dickhead's cranium.'
Daraqel and Kantriel both looked at Saruviel. Luladiel then turned and looked at him also. 'That was a fucking joke. No, Saruviel. No, Saruviel. Don't you go getting any fucking ideas about chocolate cocks.'
'Fascinating,' said Saruviel, hands folded in front of him. 'I do believe the Seraphim Girl has provided our inspiration.'
'Saruviel!' exclaimed Luladiel, but there was no dislodging the diabolical look on the face of the Seraphim Lord of Kalphon Keep.
* * * * *
'Russian chocolate,' said Radrukiel to his gathered comrades in Team Red.
'Not exactly famed for it,' replied the Serpahim Quadel, Prince of Poland, number 2 in Team Red.
'Yeh. Nobody goes on about Chocolate from Russia,' said Talutiel, Prince of Romania, number 1 in Team Red.
'It might work,' said Seraphim Zashadiel, Prince of Hungary, number 8 in Team Red.
'We have to respond some way,' said Seraphim Zakiel, Price of Serbia, number 4 in Team Red.
'Russian chocolate, though? How about Red Empire Chocolates and Confectionery,' suggested Seraphim Penoniel, Prince of Slovakia, number 5 in Team Red.
'Totally gay,' replied Seraphim Saziel, Prince of Croatia, number 6 in Team Red.
'What do you expect?' replied Penoniel, grinning.
Radrukiel, 3rd member of Tea Red, looked at the 7th of the 8 members of Team Red, Seraphim Samael, Prince of the Czech Republic. 'What do you think Sammy?'
'Red Empire Chocolates and Confectionery sounds fine,' replied Samael, obviously thinking. 'But if we're going to make this an agenda of sorts, in the end money talks and bullshit walks, so we're talking major investments into research and development. And that will take considerable capital from each of us. Will we commit?'
Radrukiel looked around the room at all the nodding heads, and looked at Samael. 'You're our best bet for matching Saruviel's sarcasm. Sexy Chocolates indeed. Crude, but what do you expect from that rebellious bunch.'
'So we make ours classic,' said Samael. 'Draw a line of quality between us and the competition.'
'Good idea,' said Zashadiel. 'I think that reputation would be the best for us in the end. We've always prided ourselves in our conservative approach to things.'
'A large range, exceptional quality, keenly set prices, and excellent distribution services,' said Quadel. 'Make those prime principles, and I think we'll take the other idiots.'
'Who is in charge?' asked Radrukiel. 'Shall we vote, or does somebody want to volunteer?'
'I'll do the job,' said Samael. 'Give me an opportunity to make a name for myself. If nobody objects that is.'
Radrukiel, who was generally the natural leader of the group, looked around. 'I think you have it bossman. You'll have your resources.'
'And you'll have your name,' replied Samael the Seraphim.
'Chocolate wars,' grinned Penoniel. 'And they call me gay.' And Team Red all chuckled on that one.
* * * * *
'So, are we Team Blue then?' asked Jerahmeel.
'Team Oceania has been the idea for aeons,' replied Phanuel. 'But the Ocean is Blue, and now that Team Red are striking out, I guess so.'
'The question is,' said Remriddel. 'There are three primary colours. Will we get a Team Yellow?'
'Could be fascinating if we do,' said Jerahmeel. 'But let's not worry about the competition. Team Blue. Chocolate the name of the game. Do we strike hard, or just be a significant player in the game?'
'Just a player, I think,' said Phanuel. 'Team Blue is content with a regular amount of glory and fame, and just getting on with life. It's our primary vision. We don't have the manpower to compete with the others at this time, as the Morning Stars of Glory are still a way off, and we won't get our full numbers from the Cherubim Princes till much later on. Quiet times for the time being. Just hold our own, and carry on the game as regular players.'
'Hopefully God will bless our humility,' said Jerahmeel.
'Fine. If that's what you guys think,' said Remriddel. 'I guess I don't mind. I had a few ideas, but we can leave it be then.'
'Oh, we'll do your ideas,' said Phanuel. 'But not aggressively. Not now. Just calm competition at this time. Maybe a few words with Darrel Lea Chocolates, and a few initiatives. A bit of investment, a campaign of sorts, and we'll leave it at that.'
'You're the boss,' replied Remriddel.
'Then that's what we'll do,' finished the Seraphim Jerahmeel.
* * * * *
'Team Yellow. What do you think?' asked Desdrael.
'I think you are an idiot,' replied Valandriel.
'Why Team Yellow?' asked Daniel.
'Phanuel, Jerahmeel and Remriddel have formed Team Blue in response to Team Red. Renamed themselves from Team Oceania.'
'Mmm. So we make up the third of the Primaries, do we,' said Daniel.
'It's the least popular of the major colours,' said Valandriel. 'Blue is the most popular.'
'We can use Yellow,' said Daniel. 'It's the colour of Chinese Royalty. It could work for us I think. With a little tweaking.'
'If you say say,' replied Valandriel hesitantly.
'Yep, Team Yellow,' said Desdrael proudly. 'We're a bit different of an alliance. But you two have forever got along, and seem to be now accepting me as the third member.'
'Don't let it go to your head,' said Valandriel. 'You're not in the ValDan alliance yet.'
'DanVal could use you eventually,' said Daniel. 'And we've appreciated your efforts in the past. So DanValDes is on the horizon, but don't expect us to get to it any time soon, dear Seraphim Prince of Luxembourg.'
Desdrael grinned. He could be patient. He'd probably have to be. But it was the only team he really fitted on, as the French and Scandinavian's didn't really want him, and he was more comfortable with Valandriel than Gamrayel and Co's cohort.
'So on with the agenda,' said Daniel.
'On with the agenda,' finished Valandriel.
* * * * *
'Being a father is a responsibility,' said Amiel.
'I know,' replied Matrel.
'We haven't had a child in a very long time. It needs responsible parents, who put the child first, sacrifice for it, make time for it, and above all else love it dearly,' said Amiel.
'I have my work. But the child will get much of my time,' said Matrel.
'That is good. I don't expect you to take time off from the Overseer's position. It is an awesome responsibility, so I fully understand. But I'll need you at home at least some of the time.'
'And I will be, Amiel. This new child will be new life for us, and I don't intend to stray from remembering that. We don't exactly have a large family, so it will be precious to me.'
Amiel nodded. 'Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?'
'Whatever the Lord provides will be enough for me,' smiled Matrel. 'Don't worry. It's not an issue.'
'You'll be a good father again,' she said, sitting in her rocking chair, rocking softly, holding her belly. 'I guess this is all heaven's timing. What it wants from me now.'
'All things work together for good,' began Matrel.
'For those who love God,' smiled Amiel.
'It will all turn out for good. In these crazy times, in this Chocolate Wars era, we can easily lose our focus, but I won't. God has already spoken to me on an issue, and I think I know about separation of duties, and prioritisation of time. We'll get through this well.'
Amiel nodded, and started singing softly to the child in her womb. Matrel smiled, and looked at his twin, and thanked God in his heart for this new beginning. This new life. This new and awesome responsibility. And, as Amiel sang, he felt a peace and gentleness in his heart, which gave him definite and sure and happy consolation. All was well in the life of Matrel for once. All was well.
Saruviel was in the cafeteria of Kalphon keep, eating his lunch.
'You know,' began Krystabel. 'Sexy Chocolates are fascinating. Chocolate nipples? I've seen them before. Chocolate penises? Rare, but not unheard of. But Chocolate Vaginas? That was an interesting suggestion from Kantriel.'
Saruviel looked at his sister and grinned. 'It's the diabolical Irishman in him. He pushes the boundary just as much as me dear sister.'
'The chocolate statue of a man and a woman engaged in doggy style sexual intercourse is also fascinating,' said Krystabel.
'Daraqel to blame for that one,' said Saruviel, eating his lunch.
'I wonder, what other fine displays of noble modesty do you have in store for us?' asked Krystabel.
'Large balls,' replied Saruviel.
'Oh, that's good then,' said Krystabel. 'Nothing more delicious than getting stuck into a chocolate pair of testicles.'
'We're marketing them to both women AND gay men,' replied Saruviel. 'They are called Chokkie Jollicles. It's a term Jerahmeel invented years ago for the nether region.'
'I'm sure they'll sell a ton,' smirked Krystabel.
'Oh, don't worry about it,' said Saruviel. 'People can be so stuffy. Especially Israel. You can't do this. You can't do that. What will people say? People might take offense. Rules, rules, rules. Blah.'
'You sound like your old self,' smiled Krystabel.
'I'm in casual mode. This time of Matrel is another time to let it all hang out,' replied saruviel.
'Literally by the looks of it,' said Krystabel sarcastically.
'It's just a bit of fun,' said Saruviel. 'Don't sweat it. Besides, it's not like we market the product in supermarkets. Only sex shops.'
'Thank God for that,' replied Krystabel.
Saruviel sat there, eating his lunch, and looked at his twin. 'Be interesting, though. Can I get the price for the chocolate penis on aisle nine?'
'Shut up Saruviel,' said Krystabel.
'Checkout, we have leakage from the chocolate breasts on asile seven.'
'That's not funny Saruviel,' smirked Krystabel.
'We need managament. There are chocolate testicles all over the floor in aisle one,' said Saruviel.
'SARUVIEL!' exclaimed Krystabel, but he just chuckled on regardless.
* * * * *
Daniel the Serpahim smiled at his old buddy Peter Fletcher.
'Come to check us out, have you?' asked Daniel. They were in the offices of one of 'The Project's' chocolate plants, were Team Yellow was making 'The World's Finest Chocolate'.
'They've been self appointed to watch over the war,' smiled Valandriel.
'Self appointed?' queried Cheri. 'We have God's approval. Now, you are not planning any weird press conferences, are you? We've gotten used to those things.'
'Maybe,' replied Daniel.
'Then no slurring the competitions,' said Cheri.
Peter Fletcher flexed his muscles. 'Or you'll face the wrath of the Lamb,' said the Fletch.
'I'm trembling,' replied Daniel the Seraphim. 'Look, Cher. We're not telling you key details of the Project. We keep our secrets secret. It's why they are called secrets, funnily enough.'
'We don't expect you to diverge any details of your schemes, but I'm monitoring you Daniel Daly, and you have a well earned reputation,' said Cheri.
'Reputations are good,' said Desdrael. 'I could use a reputation.'
'In your dreams,' said Valandriel.
'We have only the noblest of intentions towards our competitors,' said Daniel.
'Still a sense of humour, I see,' commented the Fletch.
'What, do you have a pamphlet you want us to read or something?' asked Valandriel.
'No pamphlet. Just keep it civil,' replied Cheri.
'Will do,' said Daniel the Seraphim. 'Would you like a chocolate pussy?' he asked her.
'Excuse me,' replied Cheri.
'Chocolate cats,' said Valandriel. 'Chocolate pussy cats. They come in a foil wrapper. They're selling well.' Valandriel handed Cheri a chocolate cat, covered in foil, from the desk. She looked at it.
'I'll eat it later,' she said, eyeing the chocolate suspiciously. 'Now no shenanigan's.'
'Aye aye Ms Keaggy,' replied Daniel.
When Cheri and Peter had left Valandriel looked at Daniel. 'The press conference set for next week then?'
'I'll get to it straight away,' replied Daniel. 'And Desdrael. You can be the spokesperson.'
'Goodie goodie,' replied Desdrael. 'Something to do at last,' and rubbed his hands with glee.
* * * * *
'Team Blue. Are Gay,' said Radrukiel.
'Now now,' said Cheri. 'That's not kind of you Raddie.'
Radrukiel looked at Cheri, and backed down a bit. 'Yes Miss. I apologize. I mean to say Team Blue are mediocre.'
'Our medicroity still makes you look like horses trying to climb trees,' said Phanuel.
'I knew this horse once,' said Penoniel. 'Who literally climbed this tree. Great big one. Redwood. It was an old horse, and got it's hooves stuck into the old wood, as the tree was starting to rot a little, and made it to the first branch.'
'Is that true?' asked Cheri.
'Excuse Penoniel,' said Radrukiel. 'He has a very fertile imagination.'
'Unlike their chocolate,' said Remriddel. 'Red Empire Chocolate and Confectionery may indeed have a reputation for conservative classics. But that's just it. The style is so old and boring, nobody comments about them much. Dull and uninteresting. Their Turkish Delight is so bland that water has more taste to it.'
'Our Turkish Delight is celebrated,' said Quadel. 'It's very popular all over Europe and Asia.'
'I don't mind it,' said Jerahmeel.
'Traitor,' said Phanuel.
'Gee, thanks,' replied Jerahmeel.
'The Turkish Delight is not the issue,' said Cheri. 'This war of words between Team Red and Team Blue on the news each night is upsetting the community. It's not expected. People have gotten used to a very sedate lifestyle in recent times, and while it is amusing to many, too many it is just childish egos prattling on about this and that of their so called glories. People call it vain.'
'Ha,' replied Phanuel. 'Probably the same people who roll around the floor with a Toronto Blessing.'
'Oooh, you are a nasty one aren't you,' replied Cheri.
'Comes from Pentecostal Experiences,' said Phanuel. 'Saw Potters House at play, and worked it out quick enough. And we're upsetting these kinds of people? Please.'
'Not just Christians,' said Cheri. 'Much of society doesn't want the hoo hah that the Cola Wars ended up being. The Realm of Eternity is a reserved place. You ARE angels you know.'
'And we also have a life,' said Radrukiel. 'I hear what you are saying Ms Keaggy, but most people don't really mind a bit of animated activity from time to time. It actually gives them something to gossip about, which, despite what evangelical Christians might think, they do anyway, and pretend as if they are all innocent and everything.'
Cheri looked at Radrukiel, but didn't respond initially, considering his words. Eventually, 'Be that as it may, keep things civilized.'
'We're hardly going to war on the issue,' said Jerahmeel. 'It's just friendly competition.'
'Several of Team Yellow's milk delivery trucks mysteriously disappeared,' said Cheri. '400 of them to be precise. Any of you guys have any idea who was behind that?'
'I'm sure they'll turn up,' said Radrukiel dismissively. 'But remember, sweetie. All is fair in love and war.'
'Keep it under control, buster,' said Cheri. 'Or the mighty Fletch will be exercising some muscle.'
Peter Fletcher responded by flexing his muscles, which brought a grin from his buddy Phanuel.
'So keep it clean, dudes,' said Cheri. 'Class dismissed. I'll call you all here to Nazraphon again if you step out of line.'
'Yes miss,' said Penoniel.
'Good,' said Cheri. And so the gathered Team Red and Blue dispersed, with some gestures and words between them, but, for now, Cheri was satisfied. For now.
* * * * *
Jesus sat with his twin, Jenna, in a MacDonalds restaurant, not far from Nazraphon, in Zaphona city. Nazraphon was Jesus own keep in Zaphora, not far up the road, north of Zaphon. It was ancient, and Jesus had gone to great personal expense in the early days of the Realm to afford the keep. But it wasn't his eternally, yet, no matter how much prayer he'd prayed to God on the issue. Those things take time, had been God's response to him, and he was working currently with Valandriel on stability ideas. But he'd get eternal ownership eventually, it would just take some patience.
'So Cheri reports to you at Nazraphon, then,' said Jenna, munching on a cheeseburger.
'The Theophany said he'd give me a report card when this whole affair looks as if it has reached its conclusion. On how I judge the issues. If the Church wants to be taken seriously, it depends on acts like this.'
'Then be mature,' replied Jenna. 'I am sure your conservative heart knows what is required.'
'I can handle the situation,' replied Jesus, finishing his big Mac. 'You ready to go?'
She nodded, finished off her Coke, and put the rubbish in the bins, as they started walking back to Nazraphon.
'You think we'll have that kid you've been promising me?' asked Jesus hopefully.
She looked at him, but continued walking on. 'Still thinking it over. Maybe. Maybe soon, but no promises.
'Ok,' he said softly. 'Take your time.'
'Whose chocolates do you like most?' she asked him.
'Team Israel's of course,' replied Jesus.
'Humph. Predictable,' she replied.
'And what the heck is wrong with that?' he asked, taking issue.
'Nothing. But you could at least be original and branch out a little. The teams are producing some very fine new chocolates. Some are exquisite, not just Michael and Ambriel and co's offerings.'
'Haven't really tried the competition's stuff yet,' said Jesus.
'And you claim to be impartial,' she replied.
He looked at her. 'I make that claim, do I? News to me. God shows favourites. I don't mind showing favour at all.'
'But sometimes real talent gets overlooked,' she said.
'Well aint that a shame,' replied the man from Nazareth. 'They'll live, I suppose.'
'Yes,' she said. 'They'll live.'
'Anyway, I am sure Israel is producing the best of the stuff anyway. Little point in getting fat over the delicacies of Matrel and the rest.'
'He has some of the better ones,' said Jenna. 'He started this after all,'
'Team Francaise started it actually. Matrel was just the first to respond,' said Jesus.
'Oh,' said Jenna.'
They continued walking on, and got to Nazraphon, and Jesus looked at his twin. 'Ok. I'll try some of the other chocolates. I'll be impartial. If that is what you think is right.'
Jenna smiled. 'Do as you will. See you later,' she said, and waved, and walked on, headed for Zaphon. He watched her go, and, even though he rebuked himself instantly, gave a glance at her butt. But then he chided himself, turned and entered Nazraphon, and got on with the rest of the days activities.
* * * * *
Matrel looked at the little baby boy.
'Do you want a chokkie drop?' asked Matrel.
The infant smiled at him, and nodded. He was 3 and could talk, and with the name Anthony, Matrel and Amiel were proud parents. Matrel gave Anthony a chocolate drop which is chocolate company produced and scruffed his son on the head.
'We play tennis, Anthony,' said Matrel. They were out on the courts of Shadlaphon Keep, and Matrel was showing his son how to play tennis, and had given him a junior sized racket.
'Your human name is Roger Federer, isn't it daddy,' said Anthony.
'Did your mother tell you that?' asked Matrel. Anthony nodded.
'Am I Anthony Federer?' asked the child.
'Well, I guess so,' said Matrel. 'Now steady yourself. I'll throw the ball to you, and you do your best to hit it with the racket like I showed you.'
Amiel was at the sideline, and watched as Matrel started teaching Anthony some very basic principles of tennis. She smiled. Matrel had commented to her a few times he'd like to teach Anthony the game, but wouldn't push him too hard at it till he reached his teens. He would make sure Anthony enjoyed his childhood. She took the camera she had with her, a Polaroid, an ancient model, and came over to them.
'You smile with your daddy, Anthony,' said Amiel. Anthony smiled, as Matrel picked him up, and the child was holding his racket, with smiles all round, as Amiel took the picture. The photograph came out momentarily, and she looked at it and smiled. 'This will go straight into our family album,' said Amiel.
'There you go, young Anthony Federer,' said Matrel. 'Your one of us now, sonny jim.' Anthony proceeded to fart, and Matrel wafted his nose and said, 'Perhaps we should adopt him out with a classic like that.'
'Matrel!' said Amiel, and took the child. 'We'll go inside now,' she said to Matrel. 'Why don't you practice a while. I'll get dinner ready now.'
Matrel nodded, and watched them go, Anthony's hand in his mothers, and then got back to his practice.
* * * * *
'Listen, you Czech idiot. Chocolate and Caramel Raindrops are selling well. We don't need to change the product,' said Penoniel.
'And what the hell would a Slovakian know,' replied Samael the Seraphim. 'How in heaven and on earth we were ever one country is beyond me. Slovakians have the intellect of squirrels.'
'I have been told,' began Penoniel. 'That squirrels are some of the most intelligent of God's creatures.'
'Yeh. They eat nuts. Genii all of them,' retorted Samael.
'You two never stop arguing,' said Anthony Federer.
'Listen, lackey,' said Samael. 'If we wanted comments from junior we'd ask for them.'
'Yes boss,' said Anthony.
Anthony, son of Matrel and Amiel, was now 22, and all grown up, having studied a degree in Food technology at Zaphona University. Initially he'd worked for his father, but Team Red headhunted him and offered him a fortune to work for them, and Matrel said that he was grown up now and could make his own decisions, so the lad went with the offer.
'Cover them in banana cream white chocolate,' said Penoniel, 'And we'll call them Banana drops.'
'I think that's actually a good idea,' said Anthony. 'Banana is not used that much, and people like the rare Banana chocolate.'
Samael glared at Anthony for a moment, and returned his focus to Penoniel. 'So we drop the standard Caramel Raindrops, and just produce the new line? They're selling well.'
'You know our policies. A limited range of products, which we don't change unless necessary, and we stick with that. This could be a change, but yes, we'll drop the Caramel and Chocolate alone idea.'
'We could do some testing with the public,' said Anthony. 'Get them to sample both, and say which one they prefer.'
'Yep. Yep, we'll do that,' said Penoniel.
Samael looked at them both and sighed. 'Ok, fine. But we'll run with whichever is more popular.'
'Good,' said Penoniel.
Anthony finished writing the notes in shorthand of the meeting, and said to Samael, 'I'll get this typed up immediately.'
'Good job Tony,' said Samael. 'Amend the word Idiot to moron of imbecilic standards.'
'I can't do that,' replied Anthony. 'Totally against the rules.'
'Just joking,' chuckled Samael. 'Ah, it's a good day to be alive. Team Red mostly at the top of the chocolate wars, and the other teams scratching their head to come up with answers.'
'I don't think they are quitters,' said Anthony. 'They will respond in time.'
'True,' said Samael. 'But I think I'll enjoy the glory for the moment. Might ring up Aphrayel, and ask if she want to take the late flight, and have a late dinner with me in Zaphona.'
'She is a very attractive lady,' said Anthony.
'Dream on,' said Samael. 'Yeh, Hayden is a spunk. She always has been. Prettiest of the Seraphim ladies in my book.'
'But you would say that,' said Anthony.
'It's true regardless,' replied Samael. 'She's a babe.'
'Yet you are not together,' replied Anthony.
'Nah. We're not that kind of twinship. A book was written a long time ago on how twins function. Some are mates, and some are just friends, and some are just their as supports. Aphrayel is somewhere between the latter two for me. But we do things occasionally.'
'Right,' said Anthony. 'Well, I'll get to these notes then.'
'You do that,' said Samael, and relaxed in his office chair in Red Empire Chocolate and Confectionery's main office, happy with life.
* * * * *
'A sweet treat for a sweet lady?' asked Adruel.
Cheri Keaggy took the chocolate. She'd eaten a lot of chocolate in recent years. Her thighs had been carefully exercised to cope, so she accepted such offerings with grace and love.
'You won't sweet talk me, you know,' said Cheri. 'The judgement stands.'
'The American market is a major source of income,' said Simonuel. 'Removing us for a period is very controversial. Hardly fair trade practice.'
'What do you expect?' replied Cheri. 'Your antagonism towards Sexy Chocolates has become so heated in recent years, that we're removing you from America to let some cooling down happen. And the judgement carries the weight of Zaphon Council law at the moment, practically, as God has had words with our Lord Jesus affirming he's doing his job well enough.'
'But, technically, it isn't law,' said Bantriel. 'Not technically.'
'Does that matter?' replied Cheri. 'I assume a rebuke and correction is enough for you. What, do you want to get legalistic on the issue.'
'Perhaps we should,' replied Bantriel.
'No, Cheri. Forgive him,' said Simonuel. 'We shall comply until the heat has passed. But perhaps you should look at Team America a bit more carefully. They're hardly innocent themselves, and despite all the charm that Canadian fool Loquiel maintains, he's just as guilty as Saruviel, especially with some of the mockery he splays over the American public with his radio talk show. The amount of snide comments I've heard about our chocolates on that show is ridiculous.
'Kelsey Grammar has had his lesson,' said Cheri. 'I spoke with him here at Nazraphon 3 weeks ago. Told him to curb his words.'
'Yet we're the guys punished,' said Adruel. 'Hardly justice.'
'They may have stooped low, but you have stooped lower,' said Cheri.
'Listen to the lady,' said the Fletch. 'We've been watching carefully. You guys have made some low blows.'
'All's fair in a chocolate war,' replied Adruel.
'That's just it,' said Cheri. 'We don't justify every shenanigan, which the Seraphim of Eternity really should know better on.'
'The tone will change when the Arc has passed,' said Simonuel. 'There is always a new spirit with each new overseer. Matrel is a relaxed dude, and doesn't mind a bit of fun. You should accept that and lighten up a little.'
'I am aware of that theological viewpoint,' replied Cheri. 'But be that as it may, you shall comply. Am I understood.'
'Perfectly,' said Bantriel.
'Good,' said Cheri. 'You may go. And thank you for the chocolate.'
They dispersed, and Cheri seemed satisfied. Trying times, but rule of law and justice was still being kept. For the time being.
* * * * *
'The four elements are Air, Earth, Water & Fire,' said Daniel the Seraphim.
'Your point?' replied Valandriel, looking at the new chocolate range on the desk of the main offices of ValDan Entrprises.
'Michael represents the foundation of Air, which includes Gabriel to a lesser degree, and Raphael to a still lesser degree. Uriel has a bit of it.'
Valandriel looked at his younger brother. 'Is that so?'
'Yep, buddy. Now, the second element is Earth, and that begins with 22. Matrel represents the foundation of Earth, and then Kantriel and then Daraqel. Surafel has a little bit of it.'
'Fascinating,' said Valandriel, returning his focus to the chocolates. 'What are you driving at.'
'Well, Daniel, myself, represents the foundation of Water, with Radrukiel next in line, and then Sadurael. Abraqel gets a tinge of it.'
'So where does Fire come from? Davriel?'
'It ends with the strength of Fire, but Zashadiel is a forerunner to it. There is a bit on 69, but mostly on 70.'
'I see,' said Valandriel. 'Approximately the division of the 4 parts of 70.'
'3 Segments of division, but four focal points,' said Daniel. 'Yep. And they represent the elements.'
'What has this to do with chocolate?' asked Valandriel.
'Nothing. Just theology. God chatted with me the other day and set me to thinking on this issue. Oh, I'm a Scorpio as well. Water symbol.'
'Amazing,' said Valandriel. 'I am staggered by your intellect.'
'As all truly are,' said Daniel the Seraphim. 'As all truly are.'
* * * * *
'So, how's work?' Matrel, sitting in the overseer of Zaphon's office asked his son Anthony.
'I've met a girl at work,' replied Anthony.
'Oh, good for you,' said Matrel, studying his PC screen. 'She nice?'
'Well, actually, she's a bit of a bitch. Nastiest mouth I've ever heard.'
Matrel looked at his son. 'Excuse me?'
'Seriously, dad. She's a bitch. Very nasty. But, as she told me, if you win her heart she's fiercely and eternally loyal. And she is very attractive, and very hard working. Classic Femminazi Power Woman Bitch, ok. She's the extremity of female power,' said Anthony.
'Didn't think that would turn you on,' replied Matrel. 'What's her name?'
'Bronwyn. Bronwyn Connolly,' replied Anthony.
Matrel looked at his son. 'Bronwyn Connolly? Oh, for fuck's sake. Not that bitch.'
'What, you know her?' asked Anthony surprised.
'Is she a redhead?' asked Matrel.
'Most definitely,' replied Anthony.
'Does she dress in predominantly tight red mini skirts and a black top?'
'All the time,' replied Anthony. 'Oh, you know her.'
'She's Azrael's little bitch,' said Matrel. 'Seraphim Azrael. 'She's old, you know. Very old.'
'She says she's a virgin!' exclaimed Anthony.
'Oh, yeh. Yes, that is probably true. No man would ever risk her for one thing. Way too much of a feminist. Big part of early crusades here in the realm on that issue. She was a nightmare.'
'She likes me. We're dating,' said Anthony.
'She knows your my son, doesn't she?' asked Matrel.
'Yes,' replied Anthony. 'Oh, I see. Seraphim offspring. Right.'
'Probably what she's been waiting for,' said Matrel. 'Mates with exactly her own kind, and nothing else. She always was fussy.'
'Very fussy,' said Matrel. 'It's her middle name.'
'Well good luck with her. It will be the taming of the shrew as far as I am concerned.'
'Thanks dad,' replied Anthony.
'Anything else happening?' asked Matrel.
'Work as usual. We've got new projects coming up soon. Varying 3 or 4 of our standard line, with alternatives of new flavour.'
'Fascinating,' said Matrel. 'I'll check them out when they're released.'
'You do that,' said Anthony. 'Anyway, think I'll go chat with Cindradel. See you old man.' And the lad left, leaving Matrel thinking over Bronwyn Connolly, and just shaking his head at what his son might be getting himself into.
* * * * *
'Those were the chocolate wars,' sighed Matrel to himself. What next, though? What next indeed?
The Children of Destiny. God loved the Children of Destiny. Dearly. He delighted in them, really. And it was Matrel now, in some ways his secondborn, after Michael, for Matrel would get more and more glory in the plans of God. He had learned Justice during the chocolate wars, and then he had learned responsibility. But now the Ecclesia was on his mind again, and a new plan began in the heart of Almighty God.
Ambriel, Daniel, Sariel, Meludiel, Ariel, Gloryel, Aquariel. God's chosen. It was the time of Matrel the Overseer, and God would look at his own little world of a private elect, and have fun with that. May as well.
'Ambriel, you have no intelligence,' said Daniel the Seraphim.
'He's intelligent enough,' said Saruviel.
'You stay out of this Antichrist,' replied Daniel.
'Low blow, Danny,' said Meludiel.
'Hardly a gentlemanly thing to say,' commented Sariel. 'He is our guest here for this Mega Risk tournament. Treat him as such if you please.'
Daniel sighed, and said 'Sorry bro,' to Saruviel. 'But as I said, Ambriel. You have no intelligence. That move is so completely obvious that it will be defeated more easily than old Wolfgang's farts bring a chuckle to Wormdog's face.'
The group chuckled on that one, and Ambriel smiled.
'Listen, Danny,' replied Ambriel. 'I am not as thick as you may think.'
'Oh, sacrifice, is it,' replied Daniel, and looked at the board.
'He's not stupid,' said Gloryel, hugging Ambriel, who she continued to have a big crush on.
'He'll get you when you are not looking,' said Meludiel. 'He is the Messiah of Intelligence as far as I am concerned.'
'Listen, Gospel Girl. He's as thick as a brick.'
'It's your turn,' said Ambriel. 'Are you going to take the easy conquests?'
Daniel looked at the board, and looked at the 12 Power cards in Ambriel's deck of cards. He didn't know what they were, but they were the ones with the Red Sun on the back of them, indicating their status.
'Mmm,' said Daniel.
'Chicken,' replied Ambriel. 'Can't even live up to his boast.'
Daniel proceeded to make an invasion against Aquariel, conquered one nation, took a risk card, and settled.
'He is chicken indeed,' said Ariel. 'What a wuss.'
'He made the claim he wasn't thick, not me,' said Daniel. 'I'll grant him a bit of grace and study the board for a while. He might have something planned that I haven't thought about yet.'
'He's probably bluffing you,' commented Saruviel.
'He might indeed be. But I'm happy enough for the moment.'
The group continued on with their game, which was likely to take a few weeks at this stage to complete, and Saruviel was enjoying himself. A rare privilege to be invited to this gathering. He would enjoy his time because of it.
* * * * *
'4 angels, 3 segments,' stated Matrel confidently. 'And Kantriel was too late. Aww shucks.'
'It's a brief intelude of God in divine favour,' replied Daniel the Seraphim confidently. 'Matrel the Seraphim is far from the secondborn angel of God in the Realm of Eternity. Clearly he works in groups of 9 or 5, and either way, the ultimate glory of the ninth fifth is his hearts desire or the fifth ninth. Either way that is one of the cardinal principles of creation. Everything revolves around 45. Singles, for example. Vinyl singles. Old 45s. I rest my case. And of course life begins at 45.'
'I thought life began at 40,' replied Matrel.
'Vicious rumour,' stated Daniel with insincere sincerity. 'Barely qualified to fart in public at 40. By 45 those things are under control.'
Matrel nodded. 'Gas emission. Under control by 45. I'll let Dr Spock know that.'
'You do that,' replied Daniel. 'I mean, come on bro. There isn't even any precise formulation for your boast. It's just an approximation which could suit Kantriel equally as much.'
'I'm simply the appropriate early worm,' replied Matrel. 'Four divisions, as per four primary Archangels, of the full roster of 70 Seraphim, with perfectly timed spacing, leads to me as the true and eternal secondborn seraphim of the Realm of Eternity. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Fowl mannered roman slug from all reports. Nothing more to say on the issue.'
'While I don't disagree with that statement, in fact I support it wholeheartedly, your whole gameplan is built on flawed logic. Nothing precise about it. Approximate is an English word developed for children who are bad at maths. You know, apart from 'I don't understand', which I have heard to death in some Catholic schools, these days if you give the approximate answer Jesus still loves you. It is pathetic, Swiss Cheese. It is pathetic.'
'Oh, go roger Andy Murray,' replied Matrel.
'Rich, Roger,' replied Daniel. 'Very rich. 'I'm afraid, as an official member of the Ecclesia of Almighty God, I hardly support your vain ambitions.'
'Ecclesia of God?' queried Matrel.
'Our private Risk club has coined itself at last. We are the Ecclesia of God. The chosen ones of the Almighty. An exclusive group of 7 chosen souls, bonded together by struggle, forged in the glory of my own galactic conquests of forward thinking strategies in our grand risk adventures. Astounding to all who dare...'
Matrel interrupted him. 'Are you open to new membership?'
Daniel looked at his older brother. 'Art thou serious? The membership form is excessively complicated to fill in. It is 3 pages long. Do you have the concentration?'
'I've filled in enough tournament applications. I think I can handle it,' replied Matrel.
Daniel looked at his dear brother, and sighed. 'Oh, ok. Fine. You can join. But don't expect us to let any Tom, Dick or Roger in at the drop of a hat. We keep ourselves special, and that is the first rule. Excellency of sparkly bits in life. Got to have the sparkly bits. Gloryel is acknowledged by all of us as the primary champion in this respect. She has outstanding sparkly bits, but Meludiel competes well, and Ambriel has that love thing going for him well, which we all know. What can you offer us? Tennis excellency might just not cut it. It's a tough club bro.'
'I'll work on it. Do something special as overseer. Earn my place,' replied Matrel.
'Well, I'll let the others know. Tentatively yes. But we're the real deal, and not a fake group. Members are collected on genuine honour. Your a real loving guy, you always have been, but remember Matrel. Sparkly bits. Got to have the sparkly bits.'
'I understand,' replied Matrel.
Daniel looked at the overseer. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he did indeed.
* * * * *
Gloryel was listening to Aussie band Icehouse. Crazy was on the ipod she was listening to. She was in a good mood. She was at Bondi Beach in Sydney in Terraphora, in her bikini, and Bluebell was down in the sand, building sand castles with a bucket. She was being a kid again – on purpose. Just for fun. But what was life if you had to take it seriously all the time anyway. That was her eternal truth as a Seraphim. She wouldn't change from that. It suited her. It was her.
'Mummy,' said Bluebell. 'Are we still going to see Icehouse next week?'
'The band is in vogue at the moment,' replied Gloryel. 'Apparently they've laboured on their tour for many millennia in recent times, and are popular at the moment. Terraphona City Forum is big, I know, but I've sang there. We have good tickets. Might even get to meet them, if I wear a Union Jack outfit.'
'Right,' nodded Bluebell. 'Do you like my castle? I've made it terribly English looking.'
Gloryel looked at Bluebell's masterpiece. She'd taken that up a long time ago, sand carving in the beach. Lots of people did it. Bluebell excelled at it. Her home was full of photograph albums exhibiting her firstborn's work.
'Splendid, dear,' replied Gloryel. 'Take a photo. We'll add it in to the collection.'
Bluebell nodded, and went back to her work. Gloryel relaxed, laying back on her towel, and let the smooth groove of 'Crazy' take her way to Australiana dreamworld, and she was happy, right at that moment. Quite happy.
* * * * *
Aquariel was playing cards with Wolfgang and Wormdog.
'Listen, buster. Bluffing is low. I rebuke your proud reputation for being cool hand luke, and thinking you can rule the universe with your sly grins and confident demeanour. I've got your number old fart,' said Aquariel.
'Don't know what you're driving at,' replied Wolfgang. 'I play a straight game.'
'My butt you play a straight game,' retorted Aquariel. 'Your, cheating practically, is legendary. You hoodwink your way to victory using every con job under the sun. It's, nah, I'd let it go mate. You probably don't have the hand. Or, these cards are killers. I feel sorry for you fellas, you'll fall hard. Or, man oh man, never had a hand like this. Believe me, I've heard about them all. It's old news buster. You won't fool Aquariel the Morning Star. I'm too old and wise now to fall for the con.'
'You folding then?' queried Wolfgang.
Aquariel looked at her cards. A pair of 8s. 'Bastard!' she swore at him, and folded her cards. 'I know you are messing with me. I just know it.'
'Wise move,' he said. 'King high is hard to beat,' said God, laying down his random 5 cards, with the highest card a King, and no hand of any kind.
Aquariel glared at the old man. He'd got her, right at the moment of her proudest boast. She really should have known better.
'Ok, next time. Next time you are deader than dead,' replied the secondborn of the female Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity.
'I'll remember that,' replied Wolfgang.
Aquariel looked around the room. They were in the kitchen of home, were invited guests chatted with God from time to time.
'You bake with that oven I guess?' she asked him.
'Memra takes care of that,' said God. 'She's the cook.'
'Oh. A woman's job is it? I should rebuke you.'
'Calm down sweetie. Leave your suffragette blues at the door please,' replied Wolfgang firmly.
'Yes God,' replied Aquariel softly.
'You played well. He doesn't get beaten much,' said Wormdog.
'Obviously,' replied Aquariel. 'But I'll get him next time.'
'Good luck,' replied Wormdog, as God took the cash in the kitty and placed it into his little sack he had for his winnings.
'Solid cash. Aquariel cash,' said Wolfgang. 'A few things I'll buy with these winnings.'
'Wonderful,' sighed Aquariel. God only smiled the more so.
* * * * *
Wolfgang was sitting on the lounge in Danielphon, watching the A Team.
'Great show. Legendary performances,' said God.
'Right,' nodded Daniel. He seemed to have something on his mind.
'What's up son?' asked God.
'He's got something on his mind,' said Ariel. 'A maths problems. He was challenged by Ariel to work out in his head the 5000th prime number. He's not allowed to cheat by using paper or a computer. He has to do it in his head. He's been working on it for a month now and he has to start again a lot. He's finding it challenging.'
'Oh,' said God. 'Good challenge by Sariel, though. Might have words with Saruviel on the idea. Kind of thing he should adopt for future practice. His role as adversarial angel takes such ideas into account.'
'Indeed,' replied Daniel, lost in thought. Soon he started counting to himself.
God shrugged and returned his focus to the TV.
Finally Daniel spoke. 'Is there something special about prime numbers? Is there a pattern at a certain point? Is there a formula to define them?'
God turned to Daniel. 'Why do you think that?'
'Just puzzling on it. Uncle Greg is the maths genius in the family. I'm ok, and could do it well, but so much religion and other things fill my life. It's interesting stuff, and some times, dorky old me, it actually entertains my intellect,' said Daniel.
'We'll make a Vulcan out of you yet,' replied God, now looking at the TV.
'You don't have to answer the question of course,' replied Daniel.
'That's good,' replied God, and continued watching the TV.
'I mean,' continued Daniel. 'The God of all wisdom and understanding could surely handle such a simple query.'
'Pretty much,' replied God.
'It could never baffle the mind of the infinite one,' said Daniel.
'Indeed it could not,' said God.
'So obviously you can give me an answer,' said Daniel, looking at God.
'Obviously I could. What's for dinner Ariel?' God asked, turning to Daniel's twin.
'Meat Langwah, with couscous and applejack,' replied Ariel. 'Hogget meat. You should enjoy.'
'Sounds fab,' said God, and looked at Daniel. 'Life has challenges, son. I'll let you work on that one over eternity. It will be the making of you.'
'Yeh. Yeh, sure,' replied Daniel. 'Naturally. Good decision.'
'I think so,' replied God, and patted Daniel on the knee, and looked at the screen once more.
Daniel sighed, and went back to his counting to himself. The room's mood was a weird alive but happy anxiousness. The energy was good. A very different kind of good to Ariel. A very different kind of good.
* * * * *
'Now proper Langwah,' began Meludiel, talking to Wolfgang. 'Always has 4 layers of pastry. Top, bottom and 2 in between. Convention is nearly universally 3 layers these days, and it keeps the middle layer so not as to be just called plain old pie, but officially in the ancient recipe books of Zaphon library it always has 4 layers. In between it is always vegetables in the classical menu. I mean, that is all we had to start with. I'm sure you remember that don't you?'
God smiled at Meludiel. 'It's all in there,' he said, pointing to his head.
'The pastry has a slight amount of Melit sugar in it for sweetness, not too much, as its not a sweet. It's a savoury, but there is always a hint of melit sugar to make it palatable. And, of course, these days meat is a popular enough addition as well.'
God watched as Meludiel went about the business of preparing their nightly meal, official Zaphon Langwah.
'Looking good,' said Ambriel, coming into the kitchen. 'We'll eat well tonight.'
'Do you have Glimmersphon Melit Water?' asked Meludiel.
'Dameriel had a few flasks,' replied Ambriel, and held up the beverage.
'He's the only official link to the original recipe,' replied Meludiel. 'He's never stopped producing it. Kaladel let go of producing it at Zaphon for a long time, and seemed to lose the knack of the orignal flavour when she got back to it, despite her best efforts. But Glimmersphon Melit Water tastes like it did at the beginning still.'
'The dawn of heaven's youth,' replied God.
Meludiel nodded softly. She liked that Seraphim Torah quote from God very much.
They ate quietly, and the mood was peaceful. Traditional, ancient, to Wolfgang even holy. What life should be all about.
* * * * *
Sariel, Gabriel, Aquariel and Gloryel, with Bluebell over to the side, were on a grassy section on a rug, in Terraphona City forum, listening to Icehouse play live.
'I've become a fan as of late,' said Gloryel.
'Had their work on my servers,' said Sariel. 'Ancient files. I put it on my mp3 player, and have been listening also.'
Gabriel nodded, sitting next to Aquariel, watching the show.
'Don't touch me, by the way, Gab,' said Aquariel. 'You are hardly faithful.'
Gabriel nodded soberly. Always the frosty treatment from his twin.
'Do you still perform with the girls much?' Gabriel asked Gloryel.
'Occasionally we get together and do a tour. Usually a couple of us, but sometimes 3 at a time. Always this or that mix of us. Never all five Spicies. Very rare those performances. Just when our paths cross from time to time,' replied Gloryel.
An oldish looking man sat down next to Bluebell, and Gloryel looked at him for a moment, distracted, but returned her focus to the show.
Gabriel noticed Gloryel's tension, and looked at the old man. 'Oh, it's Wolfgang. In his English suit.'
Gloryel looked again. Indeed it was. She hadn't noticed initially. She was cautious about her daughter. Bluebell had always attracted attention from men, and sometimes they had not always been the best of men.
'Has she ever met him?' Gabriel asked Gloryel.
'No. Not that I recall,' stated Gloryel.
'Wonder what they are chatting about,' said Gabriel. Gloryel looked at the two of them. Wolfgang had opened up a flask of something hot, and had poured a drink for Bluebell, and was drinking himself.
'Does he still hang around Rihanna?' asked Gloryel. 'You don't hear about her anymore.'
'Apparently,' replied Gabriel. 'She keeps a very low key life these days. Don't know where she lives at all. Recluse or just a private life now. Must be what she wants.'
'Right,' said Gloryel, watching God talk comfortably with her daughter. Gabriel followed her eyes, and looked at the two of them chatting.
'They seem to be getting along well,' said Gabriel.
'Very well, actually,' said Gloryel. There was suddenly a glint in her eyes. She stood, and went over to the two of them.
'Having fun?' she asked God, looking down at the man seated, talking with his daughter.
'Very much so, daughter,' replied God.
'He's God, isn't he?' asked Bluebell, eyes wide open. 'He is very traditional.'
'Yes,' replied Gloryel, looking at God and Bluebell, apparently, getting along like a house on fire.
'Is there something you wanted?' God asked Gloryel.
Gloryel stood there. She wanted to be cross. She really, really, wanted to be cross. But she just sighed.
'No. No, there's not,' she said, and returned and sat down again.
'Is there a problem?' Sariel asked her.
'No,' she said. And then, under her breath, 'He must have a dick after all.'
Gabriel heard it. Aquariel heard it. Sariel heard it. Nobody commented. The glares from Gloryel towards God and Bluebell for the rest of the show summed it all up. Another fine night in the realm of eternity.
* * * * *
Eros, Ozraphim Angel of Infinity, was chatting with Wolfgang.
'Now, old fart. Bluebell is a traditional English lady. So treat her like one. She has solid values from all resports, so don't get any funny ideas.'
'I do assume you have had relations with this Rihanna chick. She still a flame or something?'
'Not really in my social circle any more,' replied God. 'We drifted apart. Maybe again one day, but it might be over.'
'Right,' nodded Eros knowingly. 'Old flames can be reborn at times. You never know. Now remember, Bluebell is also a mother of a small number of children, for she isn't really the promiscuous type, but doesn't stay loyal to a man until he commits eternally to her. Gloryel made that clear enough in our email discussion on this issue.'
'I understand,' replied the theophany.
'Good. Now being blunt is definitely your style, but you do appear to have the charm not to be too obvious with the fair maidens. Keep that in mind. NOT TOO OBVIOUS. They like to be wooed and wined and dined and shit like that. Know what I mean?'
'I read you loud and clear Eros,' replied God.
'Good stuff. Try flowers, in fact. Send her roses. No. I'm a dick. Be frikking obvious. Send her bluebell's. Corny joke, but she'll probably appreciate it from yourself.'
'Good point,' replied God.
'And don't keep her hanging on, whatever you do. Kim Wild is very insistent on that point. Be loyal, mean it, and don't play fancy with her. Keep it straight forward. She probably doesn't want a permanent relationship with God. Not quite what women are into, old fella. Sorry about that. I think Angela Queen of Heaven is ultimately your best bet on that, as you might know. Once you get your slack schlock into proper gear Muslim style, she'll be hopelessly devoted.'
'Get to that bitch one day,' replied God.
'Good attitude. Make sure she's the bitch in a fight. Don't confuse her with a man. She's the bitch, your the bastard. No weird roleplay swaps. She's the bitch, your the bastard.'
'I'll remember that,' replied God.
'And sweet talk her. Call her up on the phone. Make her feel like a queen. Send her chocolates and shit. Teddy bears. Women like cute teddy bears. It's a frikking law of nature or something. Me, personally? A lifetime subscription to cunt fuck bitches is all I ask, but who am I to judge the fairer sex. So you got all that buddy?'
'Should I be writing this down?' asked the perplexed theophany.
'Now you're thinking dude. I'll get a pen.'
And he did, and God wrote down the notes, and was quite sure he might end up regretting it, but would take the god of sex's advice anyway. What could he possibly have to lose?
* * * * *
'He is quite a card. Naturally I have ignored all his advice,' said Wolfgang to Bluebell.
'He sounds intriguing. Ozraphim Eros. The god of sex, as they call him. A god? That is a term used in scripture about angels, I tend to recall. In some translations anyway,' replied Bluebell.
'Not sure if it gives all the right connotations, but somewhat at times. They are the older of the children of God, and granted greater authority than most,' replied Wolfgang. 'My son Eros is famous for his escapades since ancient days in the Realm of Infinity. He and Garanel bedded more hookers of Nadrazon than any other, so it is told. I don't doub that being the case. His work in humanity established his name's legend also. Erotica indeed.'
'Well, it is very gentlemanly of you not to take his advice. I appreciate it,' replied Bluebell.
'I have not declared any intentions either,' replied Wolfgang. Not specifically. It was just assumed so I humoured the situation. I was merely getting around to chatting with Gloryel's daughter. I do hope you understand.'
'Naturally father,' she replied. 'But I didn't say I wouldn't welcome some more personal attention. You are a man, in that sort of way, are you not?'
Wolfgang looked at Bluebell, and softly said 'I guess so. In the end, I guess so. It is not really my thing in many ways, but it is part of the package technically. I'm not God in ways as well, you know. I am Wolfgang. A person, like any other. There is a person here, Bluebell.'
'Then perhaps I should like to get to know Wolfgang DeBear,' she replied. 'Or is it Wolfgang Daly? I have heard conflicting stories on the issue.'
'I may have been adopted or I might not have. I won't really disclose. A personal affair,' replied Wolfgang.
'Of course,' she said. 'You are perfectly entitled to your privacy. A public figure needs that. I know that well. Well,' she said, looking around the room. 'Perhaps we could play a game. Something simple like Monopoly or something. You have visited me again, so perhaps we could be friends or something? Is that at all palatable to your taste in things?'
Wolfgang shrugged. 'Sure. Why not.'
And so they played monopoly, and Bluebell kept an eye on God, and then she remembered to keep the other eye on Wolfgang, human being, who was a real person as well. She did remember to keep an eye on him.
* * * * *
'Very sweet of you,' said the lead singer of Icehouse to Gloryel. 'I like the Union Jack outfit. Very traditional of you Geraldine.'
Gloryel blushed. 'Thanks. Another show next week I have been told? You wouldn't have spare front row tickets would you?'
Iva Davies, the lead singer, reached into his pocket and drew out a bunch of tickets with 'Special Exemption' written on them. 'They even get you backstage after the gig,' said Iva. 'We can catch up again then.'
'Thanks Iva,' she said. 'Love that crazy song. Really great 80s feel. Aussie rock at its best.'
'Yeh, it was a hit,' replied the singer. 'Nice to finally catch up. See you again I guess,' and he nodded and drifted off from the backstage.
Gloryel sighed. He was actually a bit cute, but no matter. She made her way out of the forum, after having had her agent get permission to meet the band, and returned to her car rental. She would head home, see how Bluebell's meeting with Wolfgang went, and seek out any details on supposed intentions. She was not sure if the old man really was cracking on to her daughter at all, really. He did get to know new people from time to time. Possibly a storm in a tea cup when it came down to it. But she'd inquire, sensitively, and see what was what. It was after all a mother's responsibility to look out for the welfare of her children, even when it came to God himself, she guessed. Even him.
* * * * *
Daniel and Matrel were chatting again, this time in the overseer's office, were Matrel was typing away at the computer, busy at work.
'Sparkly bits. Come up with anything?' asked Daniel.
'Tortoises. Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortoises,' replied Matrel.
'Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortoises,' repeated Daniel. 'You are serious?''
'Trademarks could be a complication. A similarly named competitor I tend to recall.'
'No idea what you mean,' replied Matrel, not looking away from the screen.
'And what sparkly bits do you promise us all?' asked Daniel. 'I've checked with the others. Standout performance is required.'
No trademark violations will occur. Legal documents have already been exchanged between myself and the other property. It is performance indeed which will be happening, and turtle outfits will actually be the thing used when it comes down to it I expect. Similar ideas to what has been done with other things previously, but I have a special role. I am Roger the Rat. Inspired leader of the Tortoises. We will perform at optimal level for the intended activities.
'And what are those activities?' queried Daniel.
Matrel touched his nose.
'You have an itchy nose?' asked Daniel, grinning.
'No, I don't have an itchy nose,' replied Matrel. 'You'll see soon enough. It's a secret, Dan. I won't let on.'
'Fine,' replied Daniel, rising to his feet. 'But sparkly bits, Mat. Or no membership. Remember that. Sparkly bits.' And he turned and walked away, leaving Matrel to his duties, and a smile on his face as he contemplated the very sparkly bits for Daniel and the other Ecclesia that he had planned out so far.
* * * * *
'Well, she was a lovely lady. Definitely one to meet. Gloryel can be rightly proud of her. We've arranged another visit in a few weeks. A welcome new acquaintance,' said the Theophany.
'Cool,' said Metatr
'Right,' said Logos.
Memra put the cookies, fresh from the oven, onto the table of Home, and the men wolfed them down practically instantly. She looked at God.
'You like her,' she said.
Wolfgang looked squarely at Memra. 'I like all God's children.' final
'That's not what I meant,' she said, and sat, took a cookie, and began eating slowly. Wolfgang munched, more slowly now, on his cookie and stared at Memra.
'What did you mean, exactly?' he finally asked her.
She looked at him directly. 'Nothing,' she said. 'Forget what I said. It didn't mean anything.'
He shrugged and returned his attention to his cookie. But he was bothered. 'Well, of course I like her. She is a nice person.'
'Yes. Of course she is,' replied Memra.
'There is nothing wrong with me liking a nice person,' replied God. 'It's what I do.'
'And you are good at it,' said Metatron.
'Stay out of this buster,' said God to Metatron, who instantly shut his lips. 'I am not sure what you are driving at Missy,' said God. 'But I'm not sure if I like it. I am responsible for heaven and earth. I am NOT into shenanigan's.'at
'Of course you are not,' she replied. 'I naturally could not suggest you were.'
Logos looked at the dialogue going on between the two of them. 'Haven't shagged in a while, huh, old man?'
God turned to Logos, and almost stared daggers into him, then returned his focus to Memra. 'Watch your tonuge, missy.'
'He needs a shag,' echoed Metatron.
'You don't rebuke them,' said Memra. 'You are clearly a hypocrite. And you are wanting to indeed shag Miss Halliwell. Tis obvioius to all.'
God glared thunder at Memra, and looked at the other two. 'I'm going into the lounge room to smoke. DO NOT DISTURB ME.'
He stalked away, and did his very best to resist the giggles coming from the kitchen. Impertinent children, he thought to himself. Impertinent children.
* * * * *
God mused to himself. Interesting times in the Realm of Eternity. His theophany was certainly beside himself with all the rumours going on and God felt compassion for Wolfgang. Sometimes, though, a man, even if he be a God, needed to be a man. The future could be interesting for what lay ahead of the old man. His ecclesia. A delight. They were going through life's regular trials and tribulations, and looking the part. But a new addition? Dear Matrel, the overseer himself. What have you been thinking Daniel? This was not expected. But he would run with it for now and, from what he had heard, if the sparkly bits were indeed sparkly enough, he would have to allow this new eighth member into his own special chosen club. Could liven things up a little and redress the balance between male and female. Interesting times indeed in the reign of Matrel. But what lay ahead? Destiny would still have her say, so God watched, and was happy, and the life of the eternal sovereign of angel and mankind went on.
'Matrel. Who are the rebellious ones?' asked the Theophany of his son?'
Matrel looked up from the PC screen at God. 'Rebellious ones?' He sat there thinking for a while, and thought back, to ancient days, when a Judgement had been declared.
'Oh. The old judgement,' said Matrel. 'Is that what you mean?'
'It might be,' replied God. 'What do you think?'
'There are lots of rebellious people, father. But remembering the context, a true faith would be justified, and others would be condemned.'
'And what where those faiths?' asked God.
Matrel smiled. 'Funny. The more things change, the more they stay the same.'
'So, I'll leave it at that,' said God. 'And you make your own judgements on the question. But do something about it. Whatever you conclude, do something about it, ok.'
'Will do father,' replied God. As God left, Matrel continued looking at the screen, but sat back in his chair after a moment. Who were the leaders of the Rebellion? Who indeed?
'I AM NOT A MAN THAT I SHOULD REPENT,' said Almighty God from the throneroom of Zaphon.
'Your theophany?' queried Matrel.
'AN ASPECT OF MY CONDUCT EXPRESSED IN THE AFFAIRS OF MY CHILDREN. HE HAS HIS OWN IDENTITY ALSO. WE ARE LINKED, AND I SHARE THINGS WITH HIM. YET I AM WHAT I AM. AND I AM YOUR DIVINE FATHER, MAKER OF THE HEAVENS AND EARTH, AND THE THINGS SEENS AND THE THINGS NOT SEEN. I HAVE SPIRIT WITHIN ME, WHICH IS OF ME, AND I WORK THROUGH MY SPIRIT IN ANGEL AND MANKIND TO ACCOMPLISH MY WILL. JESUS THE CHERUBIM HAD IDEAS WHICH WERE NOT CONSISTENT WITH WHAT HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WELL, AND WE ARE IN NO WAY ONE BEING UNITED. THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH IS IN ERROR WHEN SUCH THINGS ARE CONTEMPLATED.'
'Yes. I would imagine so,' replied Matrel. 'Does the Theophany speak your perfect will?'
'AT TIMES,' replied Elohim.
'And at other times?' queried Matrel.
But God had gone silent, and spoke not again. Matrel gazed at the fire of the throne, its steady blue flame unchanged in aeons, and bowed, leaving the throneroom. He had something of the answers he needed. Rebellion was the question, yet the first thing he decided, right at that point, as official overseer, with access to Almighty God, was to question the exact nature and authority of the Theophany who had watched over them for so long. Some things, in Matrel's rationale, needed clarifying. At this point he was satisfied enough with the Theophany's role, so would respond to his request and look into the issue of Rebellion he had raised. He made his way to the elevator, and up the levels to the overseer office level, and returned to his desk. An interesting question, and while he had other work, it was something to address presently. Where to start? Well the faiths in chronological order seemed the logical thing to do, so technically, as Torah divided into covenant classes, he would begin with the first covenant, the Noahide covenant, and look into that. Perhaps he could chase up Noah himself, and then maybe his Seraphim brother Daniel and the other Daly's. The ANM was the main thing on Noahide faith, so that would be the thing to do. And then Abraham, it would seem, Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, and the Bab and Bahaullah. A proper questioning and assessment of the current state of play of each faith. Doctrine? Should he bother? Researching such issues could take forever. But, it seemed to him, it was where the things were going. On the staight path, or were crooked men ruling were they should not? Were they in Rebellion indeed? He sat down at his desk, flicked on the PC and, with that in mind, soon began typing and formulating his plan.
'Chance Kibb'Star. Calling Chance Kibb'Star,' said the voice over the intercom of Spaceways International Spaceport on Televon. Chance looked up, and got to her feet, going to the information desk.
'I'm Chance Kibb'Star,' she said.
'Phone call for you miss,' said the Steward, and handed Chance a phone.
'You left your mobile at home, sweetie,' said Jan Kolby. 'Chasing off to New Terra without your mobile. How the heck am I supposed to contact you?'
'That's just it. I think you are not supposed to sweetie,' replied Chance. 'This is my Summer Solstice, you know. Time for me, just me, and some old friends.'
'Gee, thanks,' replied Jan. 'Well, if you insist I suppose. But at least call me.'
'Once or twice, but don't expect anything more, sweetie. Girl time, I'm afraid.'
'Fine,' replied Jan. 'Well, remember I love you.'
'Will do,' said Chance, and handed the phone back to the steward. Returning to her seat she considered her husband Jan, but decided he would just have to make do. It was her time, and she had some old friends on New Terra to catch up with. There was a major Lutheran Church conference she wanted to get to, with an old Singer friend, Susan Ashton, and while she wasn't of that particular Christian faith, she did believe in the One with all her heart, and enjoyed learning from other non-Arcturian religions from time to time. Part of her education in universal culture. She sipped on her latte, and returned to her magazine, awaiting her flight which had been delayed 20 minutes. Life was good at the moment for Chance Kibb'Star. She was in a steady relationship with the illustrious Rimwalker, Jan Kolby, and they had family, and were people of power in the galaxy. Mostly retired from service these days, but Jan dealt with Galagon inquiries from time to time. And her own life, as wife to Jan Kolby, was busy enough. Sure, they had a maid, but Jan was a blokey kind of guy in the end, and liked his own wife to serve him. She wasn't the feminist type, as they called it. She didn't mind waiting on her husband, but Jan was not a domineering type, and made no great demands on her. But she cooked dinner most nights, and did a little bit of the cleaning with the maid. And then they'd go to rural cafes on weekends very much, all over Televon, and visit wineries, and travel around regularly. It was pleasant. Life was very pleasant, and she really couldn't ask for terribly much more. And, having gotten used to life, and it's happy times, she wanted to continue to grow, and continue to learn, and part of that was education. Learning. Taking the knowledge she had, and adding to it. Developing it. Growing in truth and life. Becoming a fuller and more decent person. There were responsibilities on New Terra, the heart of the galaxy, where the authority was established. In many ways Earth was New Terra, but Earth was distant from New Terra, a latter planetary body of the Spiritual Universe, and it didn't have the name of New Terra. New Terra is where humanity came after the millennial resurrection, and it had always been thought to be the equivalent of Earth. But that wasn't true at all, in end. Earth had finally come to be also, created by God in the spiritual universe, and while it was enjoyed now as the home planet of humanity, New Terra was were all the action in the galaxy and universe was focused. And that was good for her, for she was a well respected figure in New Terran society. She sat there, thinking over life, and then the intercom announced her flight was ready, and she gathered herself, picked up her handbag, and made her way to the boarding terminal, off to a new adventure.
'Hundreds of tears,' said Susan. 'I've cried them, Chance. For the lost. For the found. For the homeless. For those living in grand palaces. So much suffering. If there is one thing I feel in my heart now as a Christian is that there is so much suffering, and not hardly enough address this. Not hardly enough.'
Chance nodded, and sipped on her lemonade. They were at the conference centre were the Lutheran meetings were taking place, and the vast foyer connected to the main auditorium was alive with chatter, one of the sermon's just having finished. 'The One speaks to my heart also. Not in that way, though. Suffering is necessary. We must go through it. We can't have life without it. The stronger soul which ultimately arises must be born from adversity, for a life unchallenged is a life unlived.'
'Certainly a perspective,' replied Susan. 'Yet suffering seems endless to me at times, and it must have a balm of healing to make life have a point in the end anyway. Softer souls were made that way. We need soft hearts to remind them they are cared for.'
Chance nodded. 'That seems a valid enough point.' She looked around the room. 'A whole week? How do you do it? I'm probably satisfied enough with that first sermon, and ready to think about it for a lifetime.'
'Food for thought in abundance,' replied Susan. 'It is what the feast of the lamb provides.'
'Naturally,' replied Chance. 'Well, will you come on an adventure with when our time here is complete? A tour de force around New Terra.'
'Unfortunately I am a very busy woman,' replied Susan. 'Too many prior commitments to try and get out of. I would need a century's notice these days before I could possibly hope to make room for such a thing.'
'Oh. Well never mind,' replied Chance. 'We'll have a good time while we are here then. Shall we dine out tonight?'
'That sounds fine,' said Susan. 'But can we go to the charity soup kitchen down town. I have some duties to do tonight.'
'Oh,' replied Chance. 'Ok then.' It was not exactly what she had in mind. Perhaps it was what the One wanted, though. This visit seemed to be from the One's leading. Perhaps this is something the One wanted her to learn. 'Alright. I'll come along,' said Chance. 'I will observe, and see what you do. Firsthand experience I guess.'
'Thank you,' replied Susan, taking her hand and holding it. 'Charity should be in all our hearts. Every single one of us. All kinds of people in this world, but we all need love. All of us.'
'Of course,' replied Chance, looking at Susan's comforting hand. 'Of course.'
Morning Stars: Kantriel
observed the fly. It crawled up the wall. It sat, cleaning itself
most likely, then it flew onto his desk. He picked up the fly
swatter, and aimed carefully, but then put it down. The fly soon flew
away, and out the window.
'You're getting soft,' said Daraqel.
Matrel looked at him. 'Too soft to be the overseer. But here's the key,' and he tossed him the executive toilet key.
Kantriel nodded. Time to get busy.
decree,' said Kantriel, to the reporters. 'That a new paradigm has
now entered eternity. Liberty, freedom and the ability to seek our
own glory. The law will be maintained, but the heavy handedness of
overseer's of the past is over. Time for the people to breath freely
and be themselves once more. Thank you.'
Shantriel chatted with him in the overseer's office cafeteria. 'So you have no mandate?' she asked.
'Liberty,' he replied.
'Saruviel's philosophy. How original,' said Shantriel.
'My philosophy also. I did time on it in the netherworld. Some truths don't change that easy sis.'
'I guess not,' she said. 'And how will you impose this freedom?'
'That's just it. It's not. Imposed. It's what people want to do. More naturally themselves. Not the dictates of Torah mad Michael.'
'Fine,' she said, and bit into her flaffel. 'Well, it could be good. But you need to make a mark of sorts. Leave a legacy. That's the usual idea.'
'I know,' said Kantriel confidently. 'I will.'
'Good,' she said. She looked at him. 'What mark will you leave?'
'A competent overseer, full of compassion, who gives you a break for your frailties. Law is maintained, but peoples right to choose is very important. For want of a better word, a more humane way of doing things. Oh, and this will be a sporting Arc. I'll be at every Olympic Games. I'm following the impulse of Talzudiel in this respect, who has chatted about what he wants from his time in office when he gets it. Competitive behaviour, and not so much being an angel of adversity like Saruviel, but an angel who inspires competition and fairplay, and the spirit of achievement and excellence. Of people making their own name for themselves.'
'Good. Very good, actually,' said Shantriel, somewhat surprised.
'The evening stars do care as well, you know sis,' said Kantriel. 'We actually try to get it right when it all comes down to it. The right way of doing things. Saruviel, Daraqel and I are concerned about justice. It's a big motivator. Michael's thinks its all strictness. We think its about being yourself.'
'Fair enough,' replied Shantriel, and touched her twin's hand. 'Good luck brother. I'll kiss you once a week if you maintain it.'
He smiled at his sister. That was inspiration enough, and let the good times roll. Let the good times roll.
* * * * *
Time served, job done, back to hanging at Kalphon, business as usual. And it didn't come too soon for Kantriel the Seraphim who needed a change of pace, back to a more regular routine.
Morning Stars: Daraqel
Dark shades. Dark shades at night. A dark shade so black, in the blackest of night you still notice it. Poor, poor Daraqel.
are not wise, dear son of God. You are unwise. Very unwise.'
Daraqel picked up a decanter of bronze liquid, poured himself a glass, and sipped on it.
'Yes, I am the Son of God, I suppose. Overseer of Zaphon this past week now. Thank you for the title of honour. But you question my wisdom?'
'I am rightly called a misbegotten Ketravim. Yea I am misbegotten, but I AM Ketravim. And I have rights. Rights your kind do not honour us with.'
Daraqel gazed at Daranok the Ketravim. 'We honour your kind, naturally, but not with the glory you believe is rightfully yours. It is not fitting for the sixthborns to assume supremacy.'
'I am a dark shade,' said Daranok. 'Even in the blackest of nights you feel my wrath. It would be unwise to question the new authority which is coming upon the realm of eternity. We shall rule. Our kind were made for it. We rose up beyond our human frailties and achieved glory. And my struggle, as you can rightfully see,' said the humpback,' was not easy.
'Ever thought of having surgery,' said Daraqel, slightly sarcastically.
'I've – considered it,' said the Ketravim. 'I like it. It suits me. I'm a very dark kind of guy once you get to know me. I like to ring bells and such. The hump works for me.'
'Obviously,' replied Daraqel. 'And what ambitions must we apprehend upon your coming to power you have so obviously bequeathed unto yourselves.'
'The Sovereign Ketravim Army of Darkness shall rule,' said Daranok. And we shall make our ambitions certainly known. And now that you have been informed, I depart.'
And Daranok drew his cloak around him, like Batman, glared at Daranok, and left.
'Fruitcake,' said Daraqel at the 47th departing special interest group he'd seen that week.
'He looked like fun,' said Cindradel, coming into the room.
'Tell me about it,' replied the Seraphim. 'Whackos. All these whackos. Kantriel rants and raves about his majestic time as overseer in pleasing the populace, and says all will have glory under Daraqel's wise leadership. And all I get every day is nutjobs.'
'Such is life,' replied Cindradel. 'Shall I send the next guy in. He represents the public alliance for the rights of public urination. An Adamide special interest group.'
'Oh, I can hardly wait,' said Daraqel, sighing. It had been like this. Crazy, his job. Crazy. Still, what you gonna do, huh. What you gonna do.
* * * * *
What next, thought Daraqel. He farted around at Kalphon for a while, and then visited New Terra, and then Televon. Overseer life had been interesting. He ended up at Daniel Daly's house in Paradision, and chatted with Boaz about stamps. Something to collect. May as well. And life went on.
Morning Stars: Surafel
said Kelkuriel. 'I must admonish you brother. We set an excellence.
We set a quality. We set a mark. The Mastercraftsman. But the shoddy
way you have been going about your overseersmanship this past week
since receiving that key from Daraqel has been – well –
perplexing to say the least.'
'You don't understand the wisdom of the West Clan,' said Kanye, the Seraphim Surafel, Prince of Egypt.
'I doubt you have terribly much from what I've witnessed. People are complaining that you don't show to work much, that you are there only a couple of hours, and you goof off with Cindradel, and then go home. You don't address any of the concerns of the various interest groups, and you sit at home, still, working on your music beats.'
'I have a project. Let the buggers know that I run the show, and I'll do as I please. Too many damn overseers want perfection. I'd rather be myself Kelkuriel.'
'You have always been yourself. But we've always been expert in the way we turn wood and craft our products, and their has been an expectation that Kanye West wouldn't be the triumphant fool Cherubim Taylor has claimed he would be all along.'
'You would mention her,' said Surafel. 'But I don't blame you. She gets in everyone's face. She wouldn't be famous without me to rant on.'
'Very doubtful, that claim,' said Kelkuriel. 'Pull your dick in you black bastard, and get on with the job properly. We have an old agenda, which you agreed would be begun in your term. The establishment of a skills centre more glorious than Romnaphon. In Hendraphon, your disc. The name was registered aeons ago, and we should look into it.'
'Masters at Work,' is ready to go,' replied Surafel. 'It was signed off on on the first day I got to work. Anyway, don't fret man. I'm easing myself into the job. Just be cool about it. 2 or 3 years from now I'll be at work regular like. Just give it time. I don't want people stressed out with my tenureship. Too many overseers expect the world of regular people. I'll make my mark, and people will appreciate me more for being normal rather than being Superman. Nobody wants Michael repeated ad nauseum.'
Kelkuriel looked at his brother. 'Well, they do actually.'
Surafel stopped what he was doing on his work PC and looked at his friend. 'You think?'
'They want a pro. They expect that at the top. Any Tom, Dick or Harry has ideas and can be a casual fuck. They expect more from the Overseer, especially a Seraphim.'
'But it's me they will get, at my terms.'
'Fine then,' said Kelkuriel. 'Send me the details of Masters at Work. I'll get that going for us.'
'You do that,' said Surafel. 'Don't sweat it man. It'll be cool. Trust me.'
'Sure. Sure brother. And I'm sure the DanVal alliance is quaking in its boots.'
'Whatever,' said Surafel, and Kelkuriel left.
When he'd gong Surafel clicked off the monitor. He had a plan. Glory, or something like that. But he'd keep it low key for now. Just for the time being. Then he turned back on the PC, continued looking at 'Nigger Honeyz' and was lost in soft core porn the rest of the afternoon.
'Steve. Do you really think that painting should be above your couch in this main living room which welcomes in visitors?'
Steve Mansfield looked up at the painting above his couch of the band 2NE1, an Asian Pop Band, in very scantily clad bikinis, looking like they definitely wanted some.
'What's the problem Tails?' the Cherubim Steve, 227th male Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity asked his twin Taylor, the iconic pop star Taylor Swift.
'It's just a bit – revealing – don't you think? And highly erotic. Are you sure its the best of images for such public display?'
'I don't recall you objecting to Twerking in Shake it Off, so why judge me?'
'That's different,' said Taylor.
'Pot calling kettle black as far as I am concerned,' said Steve.
'Steve. I love you. You know that. We're not the marrying type of twins, I doubt we ever will be, but we are good friends, and as one friend to another I have to say that I expect more from you. Especially my twin.'
'Fine,' said Steve. 'I'll put it in my room.'
'Thank you,' said Taylor. 'Now Austin is coming over for dinner, and apparently your friend Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly will be dining with us.'
'He's had a long term crush on you,' said Steve.
'Fascinating. They never last though. They never do,' she sighed.
'No,' he said. 'Will lasagne do?'
'Should be fine,' she said. 'Now let me look at you. Stand up.'
Steve stood. 'Mmm,' she said, taking a hankie, and wiping off some gunk from his face. 'You really are such an Aussie aren't you. Rough and tough and in the dirt like one of the boys.'
'Not exactly, Tails,' said Steve. 'Oh, I'm a bloke. It's just some dirt from fixing a new pot plant on the balcony this morning.'
'You should be more careful,' said Taylor.
'Yes Miss,' said Steve. 'You look good,' he said warmly. She smiled back at him. Steve always complimented her well. Probably, of all the angels, his compliments were the most sincere towards her. She liked that about him. And his quiet demeanour, and no nonsense approach to life. Gentle, angelic in many ways, and a good twin. He supported her well. A good foil to her drive for success. In that respect Steve kept it simple with shares in well performing companies, didn't bother working, and relaxed in life. Kept it simple. The media didn't really bother him, and he delegated his overseersmanship of his disc. In the end he was the twin she'd long ago gotten used to, but wouldn't change when it came down to it. He was loyal, friendly, and minded his manners. A good man her mother had always maintained.
'The overseer called you an idiot on TV again,' said Steve.
'He's an asshole, 'said Taylor.
'Don't I know it,' said Steve. 'Perhaps you should write a song. Call it 'The Asshole.'
Taylor giggled. 'Very funny. Now Austin will be here later this afternoon. If you like, we'll play scrabble.'
'I'll get the set,' said Steve. And they spent the afternoon playing Scrabble, and he formed the word 'Asshole' and she couldn't help but laugh about it the rest of the afternoon.
* * * * *
'What the hell is so important?' asked the 25th female Serpahim Zelophadel, twin to Seraphim Surafel, the Celebrity Kim Kardashian, to her beloved twin.
'This,' said Surafel.
'There is a picture under that rug I take it,' she said.
Surafel pulled a cord and lifted the cover a bit, showing a large photo of Taylor Swift, with her hand on her cheek, looking like she was thinking.
'Amazing. More Taylor obsession,' said Zelophadel.
'And the rest,' said Surafel, revealing the rest of the picture.
Zelophadel looked at the thought balloon above Taylor's head, and the one word written in it. She smirked a bit. 'Nothing?' she queried her husband. 'It says nothing?'
'There aint nothing in that blonde bimbo's head,' said Surafel.
'And this is going on public display?' she asked.
'I'm hanging it in the overseers office in the morning. Going to have a press gathering on work details, but I'll make sure they see it. I'll be subtle like.'
'Fascinating,' she said, and giggled to herself. Her twin enjoyed this eternal grudge. She knew that oh so well.
* * * * *
Taylor looked at Steve. 'Nothing!' she exclaimed. 'Nothing? What the hell kind of insult is that?'
'Nothing in your head,' said Steve. 'It's a pretty obvious insult, sweetie. And it's all over the news. Every channel.'
'Right,' she said. 'Well two can play at that game Mr Realm of Eternity overseer. Two can play at that game.'
Steve feared the vengeance of his twin upon Surafel. It looked like a grudge war was coming, and it wouldn't be a pretty one.
* * * * *
The end of the road. Surafel got back to his regular routines, and sighed. That had been the high life. Maybe it would happen again one day. God only knew.
Morning Stars: Simonuel
train pulled along the track.
'It is a piece of shit,' said Simonuel the Seraphim, 26th Seraphim angel of the Realm of Eternity.
His twin Izabel looked at the meal. 'It's the Orient Express' finest chef who has prepared it.'
'It tastes like shit. Looks worse. Mon Dieu, an Australian sheila could cook finer fare.'
'Mine tasted alright,' said Izabel.
'You always lacked taste,' replied Simonuel.
'Why I hang around you I guess,' said Izabel.
'Touche,' replied the Seraphim.
examined the key. 'I lost this key once,' he said to Simonuel.
'How did you find it?'
'It was in the recesses of the plumbing system of Zaphon. It took months to locate it. It was covered in grime when it was found.'
'I'm sure it's seen a lot of that,' said Simonuel, looking at the PC screen.
'An agenda? Do you have one?' asked Bantriel.
'The French Empire,' replied Simonuel. 'Time to promote our culture rather than this blasted English which predominates everywhere.'
'They work tirelessly, Sariel and co,' said Bantriel. 'Always praying about it. I have been informed dutifully. Grow the language, grow the sports, grow the culture. Incessantly do they occupy God's time with their demands.'
'And he answers them it would seem. But French men do not pray. We love. And we eat fine food. And ride bicycles.'
'Then that is what we shall promote,' said Bantriel.
'Food has been the main idea,' said Simonuel. 'Naturally I have ideas in this head of mine. Not a mere ruling kitchen, but something special. Put that blasted Masterchef in its place once and for all.'
'Do tell,' said Bantriel.'
'Oh, you'll see. And it will be the death of Kaladel's steak and kidney pies I tell you.'
'I can hardly wait,' replied the French Seraphim.
* * * * *
Memories to last forever, thought Simonuel. Such was life.
Morning Stars: Azrael
Azrael. Here we go thought God to himself. This could be a concern. Cosadriel wouldn't be far away. Time to see how life panned out.
Do you have that document?'
Cosadriel didn't look up from his Nintendo DS he was playing. 'What document?' he asked.
'The Scroll of sane reasoning. Our riposte to the DanVal alliance.'
Cosadriel looked at him. 'Fuck. I forgot that shit? Uh, yeh. Yeh I have it. Somewhere. No, I think I know. It's buried under an eternity of paperwork, but I have it.'
'I can't find my copy, so be a good little puppy and go fetch,' said Azrael. 'This job is challenging enough, so I need whatever help I can get.'
'You've been in it 3 days,' said Cosadriel.
'So it's time to use our advantages,' replied Azrael. 'Now go get the frikking document.'
'Ok, ok. No need to be so impatient. I'll bring it in tomorrow. I'll catch a late flight and see you tomorrow for dinner in the cafeteria.'
'And don't forget what you are getting,' said Azrael.
Cosadriel nodded, continued on with his Mario adventure, stood and walked off.
Billy Connolly was a hell of a guy. Good sense of humor, thrifty with his cash, and had some plans for the realm. They had a basic response to the DanVal agenda, as they called it, but it wasn't too serious. More a fun thing for life. But he did want his time as overseer to count for something, and would concentrate on financial responsibility. Keep the budget under control, and no lavish spending. But appropriate ventures when necessary.
He looked out at Zaphona city. It was a beautiful day. People out there, living lives. Ordinary lives. Special lives. Just lives, in the end, he thought. Just life. What it was all about. Just life. He pondered that for a while, and guessed that that was pretty much it in the end. It was just life, living it, filling in time, but making something of it as well. Doing something useful enough with your eternity to be happy enough with it all. Comedy worked for him. Something to make you laugh at life's absurdities. And then the occasional time at Mitraphora with Raphael, his mentor, who always asked after him. Never left him alone at times. Always wanted him to remember his social outlet, and not go back to old habits. The solitary man he had once been. The private kind of angel he had once been. He laughed at the thought of it all, turned back to his PC, and got on with his work. Another busy day in a brand new world.
* * * * *
In the end Azrael concluded that his time as overseer had been a blast. But now the regular life again. Ho hum, on you go.
is a Jew not a Jew?' asked Judael to David Rothchild.
'I don't know?' replied Ambriel. 'When?'
'When he rules the world he is a Prince of glory,' said Judael, sitting on top of Zaphon tower, looking out over Zaphona city.
'When he rules the world,' replied David Rothchild, gazing at Zaphona at night.
sat in the library of Zaphona. Brindabel was at her desk. He was
studying a book.
'I think, I have had enough study for this day,' said Judael.
'What shall we do?' asked Ambriel.
'Get the chess set,' said Judael.
Ambriel went to the games cupboard and returned with a chess set, and they started setting up the pieces.
'Strategy,' said Judael. 'To kill the opposing King you need a good strategy. And our opposing King is our father Noah.'
'His strategy is long thought out,' said Ambriel.
'Yet a Jew thinks more deeply and carefully,' said Judael.
'True,' replied Ambriel.
'So we need a deeper strategy. A long term plan, setting seeds to grow into Empire in time,' said Judael.
'Nations, Avram was promised,' said Ambriel.
'And nations he shall beget,' said Judael.
'White or black?' asked Ambriel.
Judael took the white pieces and made his first move. They played for an hour, then gave the game away which was headed for a draw.
'And if our opponents draw with us,' said Ambriel.
'You think them that bright?' smiled Judael. 'They play their cards with the word obvious on every last one.'
'Which works well,' said Ambriel.
'But bores in the end,' said Judael.
'Then we challenge them,' said Ambriel.
'You are starting to see the light,' said Judael. 'You are starting to see the light.'
Ambriel hoped he was. He put the chess set away, and returned, but Judael was gone. A note was there though. He read it.
'Learn English Chivalry. Become an expert. We will beat them at their own game.'
Ambriel was entranced. An agenda, now, from his tribal patriarch. Interesting times indeed.
* * * * *
And everything worked out in the end.
Life in the green. That's how he liked it.
tastes like fish,' said Jerahmeel.
The villager nodded. 'It has some in it. Mixed with a rare rice beaten down into a powder. They are fishcakes of a sort.'
Jerahmeel nodded, and continued eating. He looked out at the scenery. High up in a forested hill, in the heart of his disc, on a Papuan nation. He was in his element. It was green everywhere. Much rain in this area. The way he liked it. There was a waterfall up the hill a little, coming down from the mountains. He would bathe their later that day.
'What's it like to rule the world?' asked the young villager.
'The Overseer of the Realm of Eternity still has time for his people. He always will,' said Jerahmeel. 'I'm about that. Of the people. For the people.'
'You will be the best the Realm will ever have,' said the Villager.
'I will try to be,' said Jerahmeel.
Later there were some young ladies around as he bathed, and he glanced at them, and one dared to come close.
'I'm Luana,' she said. 'I have an Hawaian mother and a Papuan father.'
'You live around here?' asked Jerahmeel.
'Up the mountain a little. You should come to our village. We live a simple life. True Papuan's.'
'I will come in the morning.'
Jerahmeel slept little that night. He was thinking of the beautiful Luana. In the morning he found her, and she walked with him up the mountain for many miles, before coming to her village.
'Father. It is the overseer,' she said, coming into her home with Jerahmeel beside her.
The Papuan man bowed, and summoned his wife to bring food.
As they ate Jerahmeel smiled, and tried not to be too obvious about his attraction to Luana.
'Do you like her?' the Papuan man asked. Jerahmeel nodded. 'Then it is settled. She shall be your wife.'
4 months later, as Luana got off the plane, and looked at Zaphona City, she said. 'From the back hills of Papua to the centre of the universe. How strange is life.'
'How strange indeed,' agreed Jerahmeel, and kissed his wife, as he prepared to face the world for the true beginning of his new destiny.
* * * * *
The time as overseer came, the time as overseer went, and Jerahmeel realized that life went on regardless. But what lay ahead was still anyones guess.
still think you can't sing,' said Devuel.
'And you still can't crack a joke,' said Luladiel.
Some things never change.
picked up the torch. He turned it on, and pointed it down into the
'It's in there somewhere,' said Cindradel. 'It was archived millions of years ago.'
Devuel got down on his knees, and went into the storage shaft, and fished around for a while, eventually returning with the prized piece of artwork.
'Davinci's 'Michael',' said Devuel. 'My God. It's horrendous.'
'He was experimenting with modern ideas. Very picasso like,' said Cindradel. 'Michael wanted it forgotten.'
'I'll put it up in the office,' said Devuel. 'Invite Michael and Gabriel around for a chat.'
'You are a devil,' said Cindradel.
'Indeed,' replied Devuel the Seraphim.
Well, here he was, overseer. He didn't care for the job, but he got the key, and thought he'd accept it. But he'd play the fool. What else would you expect from Devuel? Lot's of Tom Foolery. Leave them having a chuckle when he was finished.
'Now where is the Gabriel one?' asked Devuel.
'In a place where angels fear to tread,' said Cindradel. 'The bottom of Zaphon tower sewerage pit.'
'It's a dirty job,' sighed Devuel, giving Cindradel a look she knew well.'
'But someone's got to do it,' replied the Seraphim female. 'It was not going to be her day.
* * * * *
That Luladiel was a tough twin. Devuel smiled. It had been the fiasco of his time as overseer. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.