Mercury Falls Part 35

"Thanks," said Christine. "Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to count for much in the scheme of things."

"You'd be surprised," said the girl. "Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" She glanced at Mercury. "In private?"

"Um, sure," said Christine. "But I'm not sure what "

"It's okay, Christine," said Mercury. "I need to get going anyway. Can't stay in one spot too long, you know."

"Wait, you're leaving leaving?" said Christine. "Just like that?"

"I can do a little soft shoe first if you like."

"It's just that..." said Christine, "I was just starting to... not hate you so much."

"Yeah," said Mercury. "You're pretty cool too. Unfortunately, duty calls."

"'Duty?' Since when do you care about doing your duty?"

"Oh, not my my duty," said Mercury. "But if everybody else keeps insisting on doing their duty, somebody's got to clean up the mess." duty," said Mercury. "But if everybody else keeps insisting on doing their duty, somebody's got to clean up the mess."

"Yeah," said Christine. "You're surprisingly good at that."

"Also, I have an allergy to paperwork," said Mercury. "If I stick around much longer, Heaven is going to haul my a.s.s in for debriefing. In fact," he said, glancing at the young girl, "I suspect that the only reason I haven't been apprehended yet is the fact that I have a friend upstairs."

The girl turned to him and smiled an inscrutable smile. Her face was youthful, but that smile had millennia of experience behind it.

"Goodbye, Christine," said Mercury, and slipped away.

FORTY-SIX.

"My name's Christine."

"Yes, I know," said the girl. "I'm Mich.e.l.le." She was thin and wiry, and her kinky chestnut hair framed a pretty but stern face.

"Nice to meet you, Mich.e.l.le. Are your parents..."

"I'm the the Mich.e.l.le." Mich.e.l.le."

Christine regarded the girl, trying to make sense of this remark.

"Archangel," she said. "Commander of the Heavenly army."

"But he's... You're..."

"Mistranslation," said the girl. "You know how male-dominated cultures are. I'd like to think it was an honest mistake, but Gabrielle isn't so charitable. I allow the misunderstanding to persist for security reasons."

"So you... you're the highest ranking angel there is."

"Well, I command the army. Technically I answer to the Seraphic Senate. They tend to follow my lead on military matters, though."

"Why are you here?"

"This is where it ends," said Mich.e.l.le. "This is Megiddo, the site of the final battle between good and evil."

"I know. I've been here before."

"Really? Did you get a t-s.h.i.+rt? There's an excellent selection in the gift shop."

"So I suppose you're here to do some final reconnaissance or something? Make sure everything is in order for the big Apocalypse."

"Actually," said Mich.e.l.le, "I'm here to talk to you. I've been watching you with some interest. It's difficult not to empathize with your situation."

"You've been watching me this whole time? Through everything?"

"Not the whole time, but long enough. I was there when Isaakson died."

Christine's eyes widened. "You... you were the one who helped me escape from that house!"

"I was."

"So you're behind all this?" said Christine. "You understand how I got sucked into this whole mess?"

"Actually, no," replied Mich.e.l.le. "Your involvement is still a bit of a mystery. None of the factions planned on you playing much of a role. Somehow events conspired to place you in the middle of all the action."

"But if I wasn't expected to play some important role in the Apocalypse, why did you save me?"

Mich.e.l.le smiled grimly. "I felt somewhat responsible for your circ.u.mstances."

"Why? Did you have something to do with that rocket?"

Mich.e.l.le nodded. She said, "Isaakson was supposed to be a known quant.i.ty. It had come to our attention that his heart was no longer in the fight. I spoke with him not long before you arrived, under the guise of a Syrian informant. I got the impression that he was on the verge of consolidating his gains and calling off any further offensive action. We needed him to continue escalating the situation."

"So you killed him? Because he had the gall to hesitate on the path to Armageddon? And nearly killed me in the process, I might add."

"I redirected a rocket that was going to hit a civilian dwelling. Rather than seven civilians dying, one elderly general died. A military officer who, I might add, was scheduled to be killed in a few days anyway. All I did was hasten his death to ensure that the conflict would escalate as expected."

"Yeah, well, you could just as easily have turned the rocket into a bowl of petunias," said Christine. "n.o.body had had to die." to die."

"At the time, I was of the opinion that someone did. I'm rea.s.sessing that opinion at present."

"So you left me at the hospital with the spelunking note? And the Attache Case of War?"

"I did. As I was technically not supposed to have any contact with Isaakson, I couldn't risk holding onto the Case. I figured it was as safe in your hands as anywhere."

"Then you've been watching me since that rocket strike?"

"No, but I have enough intelligence sources to piece together most of your adventures over the past few days. I have a sense of what you've been through."

"I doubt that."

The girl peered curiously at her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," said Christine wearily. "Why not."

"What would you do if you were in my position?"

"Hmmm," said Christine. "I'd avoid making any big decisions at this point. I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian when I was your age."

"Lucifer has given me an opening," explained Mich.e.l.le, "and I'm tempted to take it. To give him the a.s.s-kicking he's been asking for since he first started s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with the plan down here. He's off-balance and unprepared for the battle. On the other hand, an operation like this inevitably creates a great deal of collateral damage, and by withdrawing from the Apocalypse Accord, Lucifer has given me a fair amount of flexibility. I could call the whole thing off and just hope for the best. Lucifer's organization would remain intact, but his influence on this plane would be mitigated to some degree."

"Well," said Christine. "The way I see it, G.o.d gave us this planet. This plane, whatever. To humanity, I mean. Not the angels. I understand that He's evidently given the angels some authority over certain things, and I won't pretend to understand how all that works. But your organization is clearly too vast and complicated for even you to fully understand or control. And the bigger and more powerful an organization is, the more bureaucratic hoops its members have to go through to get anything done. What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that while I'm sure you run a bang-up organization, it doesn't frankly seem to do us a whole lot of good down here on the ground. You folks are so far removed from the actual events that when you finally do something, it's usually too little too late. Or far too much, too early. To us down here, your involvement is just another terrifying unknown. Terrifying unknowns tend to create fear, and fear tends to bring out the worst in people."

"So you'd prefer that we pull out of this plane entirely and just leave you to fend for yourselves?"

"I suppose not," admitted Christine. "Granted, if Lucifer is going to keep scheming away, then I suppose some involvement from your side is a necessary evil, if you'll pardon the expression. But maybe you could limit yourselves to preventing Lucifer from wreaking too much havoc down here, so at least humanity has a chance."

"You would have me call off the attack then. Put off the Apocalypse."

"Look, the way I see it, there are plenty of battles between good and evil on this plane already. You might have noticed that we've got a fair amount of war, death, famine and the other one..."

"Pestilence."

"Right, and pestilence without any help from you. I don't think you need to go out of your way to ratchet up the stakes. Just give us a chance to work things out down here."

"Hmmm," said Mich.e.l.le. "You understand what you are asking for? You are asking, essentially, that the Apocalypse be left in your hands."

"In the hands of humanity, correct. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying you can't help out. All I'm asking is that you don't blindly follow this SPAM, or whatever guidelines you are using. Don't just mechanically follow rules that were written up thousands of years ago, for reasons that you don't understand, in a language n.o.body speaks any more. Ask yourself, before you act on the basis of one of these rules, whether you're helping our cause or hurting it."

"A reasonable request. The SPAM is a very powerful doc.u.ment, but between you and me, I find certain parts of it nearly impossible to understand. There is, even among my wisest advisors, a good deal of disagreement regarding the meaning of some sections. Trying to use it to plan a military operation is hopeless."

"This is really all up to you then? Whether the Apocalypse goes forward or not, I mean? You get to make the decision."

"Oh my, no," said Mich.e.l.le. "I have tactical authority, of course, but all I can do about a decision like this is report to the Senate Committee on Strategic Interplanar Intervention. I do, however, have some pull, and at this point my recommendation could very well make the difference."

"And what are you going to tell them?"

"Well," said Mich.e.l.le, "as inclined as I am to leap off this precipice, I do find your case compelling. I'm in a difficult position, you see. On one hand, your actions allowed the Apocalypse to proceed according to plan. I could take that as a sign that it is part of the Divine Will that the Apocalypse go forward. On the other hand, you're only involved in the first place because I violated the SPAM to kill General Isaakson and to spare you."

"So," said Christine, "if you hadn't violated the SPAM, then your plan the so-called Divine Plan would have failed. Your failure to follow the plan was a critical element in the plan's success."

"At least as far as I can tell," said Mich.e.l.le. "That is, perhaps the Divine Plan would have found another way to work itself out, even if I hadn't acted the way I did. Maybe in the end it makes no difference what I do."

"But you're the Archangel Mi er, Mich.e.l.le!" Christine sputtered. "If your actions don't matter, then whose do? I have to believe that it makes a difference. I mean, I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't saved me."

"On the other hand, your life wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't redirected that rocket to kill Isaakson."

Christine groaned in exasperation. "We could play this game forever," she said. "You can't live your life according to far-off consequences you can't possibly foresee. Ultimately, you just have to make the best decision you can."

Mich.e.l.le sighed. "It's a paradox, to be sure. By violating the plan, I made it possible for the plan to succeed. Do I take that to mean that the plan is meant to succeed, or that I am meant to circ.u.mvent it?"

"I'm not sure it means anything," said Christine. "To quote one of the minor prophets: 'You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice; if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.'"

"That's quite profound," Mich.e.l.le said. "Is that Habakkuk?"

"Rush," said Christine.

"Of course," said Mich.e.l.le. "I remember when Lucifer lost that bet to Neil Peart."

"So what is your decision?"

Mich.e.l.le stared over the edge of the valley for a time before answering. "The matter requires further study," she said. "I believe I'll recommend that the Senate appoint an investigative committee and put off taking any further action until the committee has made its findings. Then there will be the interminable hearings regarding the report that the committee generates, the inevitable scapegoating and bureaucratic reshuffling, culminating in a lengthy debate about what course of action, if any, to take."

"How long do you expect this process to take?"

"I wouldn't expect anything this century."

"Wonderful. So humanity gets a second chance."

"Yet again," said Mich.e.l.le. "I hope you appreciate what this means."

"I do," said Christine. "I will. Absolutely." The Universe, she thought, might not be such a jerk after all. One thought still nagged at her though. "Perhaps it's too much to ask, but I was wondering... Do you think I could be reimbursed for new linoleum in my breakfast nook?"

"Hmmm," said the angelic general. "I'll see what I can do. That's not really my department."

FORTY-SEVEN.

In a dingy gray pub on a dingy gray Tuesday afternoon in Cork, Ireland, a demon called Eddie sat, forgotten by the Universe, nursing a pint of Guinness. It had been nearly a year since he had last talked to Gamaliel, and he could only a.s.sume that his supposed savior had gotten too busy with his scheming to make the call to the higher-ups at the M.O.C.

"Figures," he muttered to no one in particular.

The worst part was, he had actually begun to enjoy the visits from Gamaliel. And now, not only had Gamaliel disappeared; he had lost contact with Harry Giddings as well. Eddie was more desperately lonely and bored than he had ever been before. Gamaliel's presence had given him some hope that there was some reason for him being here; now he was once again faced with the prospect that his exile on the Mundane Plane was just a cosmic accident. It was almost too much to bear.

The pub door swung open to let in a blast of cold, damp air, and along with it a pudgy, bespectacled man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. The man carried against his chest a large brown accordion-style folder wrapped in a rubber band. He let the folder hit the bar with a thud.

"b.l.o.o.d.y paperwork," said the man. He signaled the bartender for a drink.

Eddie grunted his a.s.sent. One thing Eddie did not miss about working for the M.O.C. was the interminable paperwork.