Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
© 6176 SC
Tapestry of Life 2
Eve and Adam
Lord Chronology and the 700 Time Masters
Samael and Logos
Eve and Adam 2
The Fantasmagorical Adventures of Insanity Man
The Fantasmagorical Adventures of Insanity Man 2
Kayella and Callodyn
Vain and Pretentious
The Cherubim Urakiba – Angel of God
The Impossible Unification of the Warring States of Terravana and Kadramere
Life in Kadravana
Kayella and Callodyn 2
God the Father
Kayella and Callodyn 3
The Cherubim Sandra – Dreams
The Celestyel Angel Aphrayel – Benjamin
The Seraphim Jembryel - The Nixian Agenda
The Wars of John Connor and Cyborg Q
Saruviel – The Quick and the Dead
Daniel – At Arm’s Length
The Fabulous Misadventures of the Famous 17 Kaleidoscope Collectors
Matthew the Artist
Dark Times 2
Aphrayel – The End
The 7th Angel
Crazy Funky Love Child
The Frosty Nightmares of Professor Zelzazon
A Wicked Sense of Humour
A Wicked Sense of Humour 2
Beyond the Reaches of the Impossible Lords of Chaos, Destruction and Minor Ego Problems
The Fabulous Misadventures of the Famous 17 Kaleidoscope Collectors II
Tapestry of Life 2
Paul Saberton looked at the clock on the wall. It was late, and he wasn't well. His MS was starting to get to him. He'd had it a while now, and life had taken a dive in recent times. Mamre Fellowship prayed for him, and while he knew the Lord worked miracles, he also knew that sometimes a thorn in the flesh would have its say, no matter how much faith might intervene. He didn't look great when he looked at himself in the mirror, and he knew he wasn't. Life was not fantastic. He knew, in his heart, he had a year or so to live. And he knew he had to make this time count. He'd chatted with Brenton White about his probable funeral, and hoped Brenton could make it. But it might end up just a family affair. He sighed. Life didn't always work out. No matter.
* * * * *
'Chosen ones don't last forever, Daniel Daly,' said Marcus CCC.
'No they don't, do they. Your head is all grey now, and I think the time is closing in on us all.'
'How will you die?' Marcus asked Daniel.
'I'll just rise in grace to the heavenlies, in a divine rapture,' said Daniel smiling. 'I shall never die. I'm too tough for that.'
'I almost believe you,' replied Marcus.
'The funeral for Rebecca Hill was nice,' said Daniel. 'She lived long and proud. A gem in the end.'
'She had a crazy spark as well,' replied Marcus. 'She had another life behind that quiet exterior. When she finally trusted you she spoke her mind freely on many subjects. Teh art is to draw out this knowledge and remain calm when she says something pointed. You get the best conversation in life that way.'
'Wisdom from Marcus CCC,' replied Daniel. 'I'll have to remember that one.'
'How is Lucy Smith?' asked Marcus.
'She's good,' said Daniel. 'She's hanging around a chick called Decadence at the moment. A nickname she uses for herself. A diehard metalhead. Has every frikking metal album from the 80s and 90s that I've heard of. So much of the foundational stuff. Very dedicated, and her caravan out near Symonston is loaded with this and that of the genre. I'm practically jealous. Some fine beautiies in her collection. Very impressive for someone so young. I think she inherited a lot of it from an old uncle as well.'
'And your CD collection? Will it still be in the glorious afterlife waiting for you?'
'What you acquire in life.'
'You acquire in life for eternity,' finished Marcus. 'Yes. You say that all the time. I perhaps believe that may be true. Let us hope so anyway.'
'I'm sure it is,' replied Daniel. 'One of the points we live this life.'
'Yes. Maybe,' said Marcus.
Their meal came, and Marcus, as per tradition, fitted the bill, and Daniel enjoyed himself in conversation with one of his oldest and dearest friends. Tomorrow he had work to do, cleaning up the back yard at his Cooma address, and looking into details with his shares porftolio, which earned him a lot of his income. He had shares in many of the blue chip companies, but was considering one or two further investments, as he had some spare cash at the moment, and clock companies were on his mind.
'Good health,' said Marcus, raising his glass in the air.
'Good health,' replied Daniel.
* * * * *
When Paul Saberton died Daniel almost mourned. But not in the end. Deaths wee not that a big deal to him. Life went on. Time passed, and others came and went, in that tapestry of life. Kristie, and Marcus died wthin a few years of each other, then it was him and Lucy again. And then Shelandragh May passed, and the end of days was upon them. The Judgement Day came, and it was surprising, but life inevitably went on, and after the millennium, and his eventual taking up to heaven, Daniel found his angelic identity as a Callophim restored to him, and life in Paradision, a town in Televere, in the spiritual planetary universe.
* * * * *
Kirstie Kolby looked at Jonathon.
'We're not together, you know. No matter what you think?'
'What's the problem Kirst? Not still hung up on Daniel Daly are we?'
'No,' she replied. 'He was fun for a while, but that time is finished. I might be eating with you in this nice restaruant, but don't take it for too much. You are too unpredictable. What, another job? What is it now?'
'Wine taster,' he replied. 'And I'm going into studying beverages at university soon. A course from Open University. I'll study it in my own time at my own pace. Got plans to start a liquers company.'
'Amazing,' she replied. 'Let's hope you stick to it.'
'It doesn't matter, babe,' he replied. 'Life goes on anyway.'
'How old are you now?' she asked him. 'I've noticed the greys are finally showing up.'
'I don't have that many years to go,' he said. 'Time catches up with all of us.'
'Don't I know it,' she replied. 'Anyway, I'll have the lasagne. With salad.'
He ordered, and she sat there, sipping on her apple juice, smiling at him. She was doing her best, but her heart just wasn't in it. They'd drifted apart over the years, and it wasn't like it used to be. They had been young, eager, full of passion. But reality had settled in and Jonathon, amazingly, was not that stable. He could usually keep his job, but the thing was he changed them all thetime. Andnow he was really starting to look his age, and the thrill of Mr Kolby had run dry. She was still youthful and pretty – at least she told herself that. But time had caught up to her too. She didn't have forever.
'I still love you somewhat,' she blurted out. 'But I am not sure if we are meant to be. Eternally, you know. We're friends, and we like each other, but I need and crave a lot more stability than you ever really offer for terribly long Jonathon Kolby. In all that beautiful love we want to last forever, sometimes it just doesn't. You know.'
He looked at her, and looked at her beautiful hair, and nodded. 'Then we do the best we can,' he replied.
'I guess so,' she said.
The meals came, and Kirsty ate with traditional etiquette, while she was not greatly impressed with him wolfing down his steak sanger, which was not exactly the decorum she was looking for. Such a bloody Aussie, shethought to herself. Such a bloody Aussie.
* * * * *
'I don't know what it is Kayella. But there is something familiar about you. Callophim you may be, which should mean something, but I took it for granted that it was just a thing. But I've noticed my CD collection, and you look awfully lot like a singer in there.'
Kayella glared at her, and continued on surfing the Televere Internet.
'I taught that Satan a lesson,' she asked. 'Gave him one.'
'You're the passion of God, I think' replied Callodyn, the angelic name of Daniel Daly.
'Passion is life and life is passion. And being a go getter is what it is all about. This life is new to me. Where I came from I don't know, but I must plan. And conquer. And achieve,' she said. He looked at her. She was definitely like a pop singer of a CD in his earthly collection, which he had mostly forgotten in his new life in heaven, but memories were there, deep down in his soul.
'Buy me this,' she said.
He looked at the screen. An electric guitar was shown.
'You want to take up music?' he asked her.
'Yes.' she said after a moment. 'Music is good. I want to be a musician.'
'Sure you got the talent,' he said slyly. 'I've heard you sing in the shower.'
'I am practicing. Ignore me mere human. I cater for refined tastes.'
'Ha,' he said. 'They'd have to be damn refined for your garbling.' She glared at him in reply.
'Buy it. Now. Provide card details, idiot.'
He sighed, and punched in his credit card details, and the yellow guitar was on its way to his address.
'I shall practice. And I shall be brilliant,' she said.
'You hope, tryhard,' he replied.
'And trying hard is what I do best,' she said, and poked her tonuge out at him.
'Jesus,' he said.
'Christian icon,' she replied. 'I have no need for his inane bullshit. A callophim has a greater calling.'
'Indeed,' replied Daniel, and just shook his head as she continued staring at the guitar on the computer screen.
* * * * *
Kirstie looked in the mirror. She was looking good. Living in Canberra, on New Terra, in the heavenlies. Single, no commitments, good job she had in the Public Service again. And Jonathon Kolby across town in his Deakin flat, round the corner somewhat from his family's place. They were lucky to get it as well. Early Canberra residents had put in applications for a lot of theplaces in the city, and when the resurrection had come to the heavenlies they had very good claiming rights. But not everyone made it to heaven, and not every residence could be claimed. Works and status counted for a lot upon judgement of death. But the Kolbys had pulled through, and Kirstie herself obtained the place she needed also. Lucky to get New Terra. She could have been out on a less important planet, but she got the heavenly galaxy's finest place. Very fortunate indeed.
'So do you want to reconnect?' asked Jonathon on the phone to Kirstie.
'Not yet,' she replied.
'You've been here for a while now, you know. When are we going to catch up?'
'I'm working out life still,' she replied. 'Finding myself was easy enough with life on Earth. It was short. You sort of made a basic plan, ran with it, and that was that. But this eternal life thing, well that takes an eternity to make wise plans. And I want wise plans in my life Jonathon Kolby. Even if it takes me 10,000 years, I want wise plans in my life.'
'Looks like it will be 10,000 years as well before I finally see you,' he said.
'Maybe,' she said softly.
'Fine. Look, I'll call you again in a decade or so. Maybe then we can catch up.'
'Don't hold your breath,' she said. 'By Jonathon.' She hung up and smiled. Mr Indecisive could mull on that for a while.
* * * * *
Daniel the Seraphim had just finished plotting out with Cherubims Callodyn and Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly a new initiative for the Daly Fundation. Golden Fries and Burgers.
'I'll manage the thing,' said Daniel the Seraphim. 'Profits can go to the foundation, but I'll take responsibility for managing the thing. Got plans for stores all over New Terra and Televon, and plan on getting it into the Realm of Eternity also.
'It's a good idea,' said Callodyn. 'Standard franchise sort of thing. Like Maccas and KFC.'
'With genuine fast food though,' replied Daniel. 'We won't get too PC with our grub. Animal fat being used, for example. We'll make it the real thing, and take on Paul Vautin's Fatty Burgers. Show them how its really done.'
'It will require a strong business plan. If it is too last,' said Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly. 'And there is not much point in sinking funds into it for a temporary rush. You'll have to constantly manage the thing, and use the personal touch with staff. There is so much competition at the moment as things get up and running in a new way with all this new world we are now part of.'
'I know,' replied Daniel.
'Sounds good,' said Callodyn. 'Want me involved?'
'I'll handle it. But I'll keep you both informed,' said Daniel. 'It will be a good earner in the long term. I'll make it work. Do the founding of the thing properly.'
'Professionally,' replied Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly. 'Be professional about it. Business like. Let them know you manage it properly as a boss should do. Not too much of this industrial democracy. Old fashioned business nowse is what lasts in the long term. A man with a vision, who sticks to it, and goes to war for his team. Make it proper and fill a need, and it will last.'
'Will do,' replied Daniel. And the three of them were in general agreement on the idea.
* * * * *
Jenny Gilmore. Dalgety girl of New Terra, in Australia. What could you say? Simple, coutry girl, and this was her life. She was single again, and she didn't overly object. Love came at times, and it left at times. Life was, as Bon Jovi sang, an ongoing charade of being in and out of love, and it just seemed to her that was the nature of the beast.
'Jenny. Can you help me on the farm today,' said her father Stewart.
'Sure thing dad.'
'Your mother is moving to Dalgety. She's got a place there to live. She'll visit regular like. But she needs her own space. So you can help me on the farm today?'
Jenny looked at her father. He just dropped a bombshell on her.
'Uh, yeh,' she replied.
'Good,' he said.
In her room she was brushing her hair, thinking on mum. Moving into town. What, didn't she love dad anymore? She assumed that wasn't really the case, but why the hell would she want to live in town? Well, at least they weren't divorcing. At least it wasn't that bad – yet. She brushed her hair, exhausted after the day's heavy work on the farm, and sang softly. Then she put on 'Hysteria' by Def Leppard, a CD she played once a decade or so, and lay back on her bed, looking at the celing. 'Women, women, lots of pretty women,' went the song. Hah, she thought. Hardly her reputation. But she was attractive in her own way, but only average when it came right down to it. She had her good days, and she felt good and pretty on her good days, when the hair sat just right, and she didn't look too mucky, like a country bumpkin, slaving away in the dirt and the muck. Who was she kidding? Nobody lest a farmer in the end would probably want to commit to her eternally.
'Jenny,' said her father from outside the room.
'Daniel Daly is on the phone.'
She came to the door, and took the phone. 'Yes, Daniel,' she said.
'Well, do you want to visit me on Telever or not?' he asked her. 'I have a housemate at the moment who I would like you to meet. She's the spitting image of pop singer Kelly Clarkson. It's really weird. She's Callophim angel. Like me,' he said.
'Yep. You're an angel,' she said. 'First phone call in a decade for me personally.'
'Life can get tough,' said Daniel. 'Keep the chin up girl. It works out in the end.'
'Sure,' she said. 'Well, ok. I come and visit. Maybe next year? Mid year?'
'Should be fine,' he replied. 'I'll call you again when its time. Now if you don't mind, space phoning costs a fortune. I'll be seeing you.'
'By Dan,' she replied, and hung up. Good. Someone at least still gave a damn about her. She lay back on the bed, and as the album continued playing she fel asleep. She was exhausted, and life was hard. But better days, hopefully, lay ahead.
* * * * *
Paul Saberton and Jenny Gilmore arrived Callodyn the Cherubim's home on Paradision in Televere about the same time. In fact Daniel had asked them to do so.
'Hi Jen,' said Paul. 'Long time no see.'
'Hi Paul. Would you knock, kind sir?'
Paul smiled at her warmly, and knocked on the door. Soon a fresh face greeted them.
'Uh, we're looking for Daniel,' said Paul.
'Daniel Daly,' put in Jenny.
'Oh, you must be Paul and Jenny. We've been expecting you. I'm Ruth. Come in.'
'Nice to meet you Ruth,' replied Paul. They were ushered inside, into the front room, and Daniel nodded to Paul and smiled at Jenny.
'This is Ruth and Boaz,' said Daniel. 'They, uh, have very biblical reputations.'
Paul smiled. 'Fancy that. Named after the biblical ones. Was that much of a joke when you got married?'
'Not really,' replied Boaz. 'Sort of natural, really.'
'Right,' agreed Paul, and looked at Boaz. 'You appear to be Israelite.'
'From Bethlehem. Born there a long time ago. Time of the Judges. There is a story about me and Ruth in the Bible.'
Paul stopped for a moment, and looked at them. 'Your Ruth and Boaz? From Scripture?'
'Televon is were we mostly live. The ancient Jewish people,' said Boaz. 'What? Don't you expect to meet a biblical person, Paul?'
Paul stuttered. 'Uh, no. N, no. You don't expect that to just drop on you. Come on, your not really Ruth and Boaz, are you?'
'You require proof?' asked Boaz. 'Ok. Come next door for a few minutes.'
Paul followed, and Boaz showed him some magazines and books with his formal identity with his picture clearly identified. Paul looked at Boaz. 'Well, I never,' he said. 'Small world.'
They returned next door, and Jenny was relating to Ruth some of her struggles in life.
'I'll have dinner ready soon enough,' said Daniel. 'We'll have tea at 3 this afternoon. A nice way to get you started. Now, I have 3 months with both of you as agreed, right?'
'It's all arranged,' said Jenny.
'Not a problem,' replied Paul.
'Then I'll get to the dinner,' said Daniel.
Paul, still stunned by the company he was keeping, started asking questions which were popping up, about Bethlehem in biblical times, and about King David, and this and that. Boaz and Ruth happily answered, and Paul's day, to put it mildly, had been made.
* * * * *
'So you got an invitation to visit Daniel Daly the younger on Paradision as well, did you Rebecca?' asked Marcus Chuan Chi Chin to Rebecca Hill.
'Yes,' nodded Rebecca. 'He has guests at the moment, and is looking to have a big party at the end of their stay. He would like our company for about two months from a few weeks from now. I have replied and agreed to come and stay.'
'So have I,' replied Marcus. 'It will be good to catch up with Daniel again. He has such a busy life. So much of the Noahide thing working well for the Daly's. Very amazing.'
'The Rainbow Covenant certainly has colour characters in its community,' said Rebecca.
'Very clever,' smiled Marcus. 'I wonder if Adrian will be back soon. We might be able to get him out to dinner with us this evening, if he can find time.'
'Adrian Chan is a busy man also,' said Rebecca. 'Always on follow up with member of the group. His work never really ends.'
'Thankfully he is a good choice for the work,' said Marcus. 'One of the best care workers I have met.'
'I think so,' agreed Rebecca. 'Oh, never mind. Let's go to the club now. Adrian might not even come back.'
'Yes. Yes, ok,' replied Marcus. And so they left the drop in centre and went next door to the Southern Cross Club, ordered drinks and meals, and chatted mildly, about Daniel, and life, and all things in their lives.
* * * * *
And then there was a party, and Karenina showed up also, as well as Kirstie and Jonathon Kolby, who were perfect stangers to each other. Daniel, the Callophim Angel Callodyn, had put this little group together, for they were a group of his, in his thinking. He called them his little 'Tapestry of Life' friend club, because they each spoke the meaning of life to him in ways, and Kayella, a new member of the group, learned meaning of life from it also. She was young, and needing new data, like Number five. But he had his suspicions about who she really might be. It was at a club in Paradision, in a large catering room, where they chatted the evening away, enjoying fine food and drink as well as fine song. And Daniel found a home in these people, a gathering of souls to which he felt he could relate and draw strength and support from. And he was happy. It made him happy. To have friends, to have people who he cared for, apart from his family, who also cared for him. And he toasted the evening to life, love and other mysteries. And that life, as it always does, went on.
“Eve and Adam”
‘The protoevangelium. Yes, I know, an ancient doctrine. But it is Catholic lore and we still accept the basic view that Jesus was the seed of the woman to destroy the serpent’s work.’
Jonathon looked at the elderly catholic priest, satisfied that his hunch on what Catholics taught on this issue was in fact the case, thanked the priest and left for home.
* * * * *
- LONG AGO -
‘….the Children of Destiny, the Children of Fate.’ John smiled at Eve’s dramatic flair in her quotation of the Seraphim Torah of Eternity. ‘But beware our brother Jesus, dear John. Beware his crooked ways and tangled delusions. For he himself will be the eternal child of destiny, the eternal glorious one, if he can possibly persuade others to follow him. ‘Yes indeed,’ responded the Seer of Visions.
* * * * *
Jonathon sat down, Lucinda quietly watching television, and reviewed the official doctrinal statement the pastor of the fellowship had given him for the ninth time. In longstanding Haven Noahide Fellowship tradition the seed of the woman from the Protoevangelium as the Catholics called it, Genesis 3:15, were indeed the children and angels of God. The firstborn children of God in heaven were Adam and Eve, and then, their human incarnations being made after their own image and being filled with their own spirit, as Genesis 1:26 taught, the manifestations of the Children of Destiny began being born from the seed of Eve and Adam. Yet, when the Logos appeared, and when Jesus was merged with him, the complete manifestation of the Angels of Infinity and Eternity began taking place. They were not mere representative, but complete transmutations into human form who, upon death, returned to the Realms of Glory. There purpose, as Jonathon came to understand, being the sanctification of the rest of humanity, those not made in the image of the ‘gods’ but born of human seed, those who would be brought to life in the latter day resurrection to the new spiritual human universe. And of course, the Ketravim. Those humans, who through constant devotion to love and God, achieved angelic glory upon their deaths.
He thought on the Priests words understanding Jesus to indeed be the seed of the woman but, as the book of Hebrews called it in the New Testament, the firstborn amongst many brethren. He thought then on the way the apostles had taught exclusive salvation through Jesus and was reminded of Haven’s position that, as the Jesus Seminar research continued onwards, the words of the historical Jesus were mainly contained within Matthew, Mark and Luke and that from Haven’s perspective Jesus himself didn’t appear to teach exclusive salvation. In Haven’s words, the apostles had simply gravitated to this doctrine to teach the importance of the new birth and life which Jesus blood on Calvary had brought them and the excessive devotion they had to their messianic leader. Yet, as in other things, an example being the deification of Jesus in the mind of the latter church, they were misled in ways, yet their heart, as Haven emphasized, was usually in the right place.
‘Man, I dig theology, Lucinda.’ Said Jonathon, happily picking up another one of Haven’s books.
‘I guess that is how he made you, J. But it sure as hell bores me to death.’
‘You’ll like it one day. Trust me. It just takes time to understand the knowledge and how it impacts on real life. It is really fascinating after a while.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. Oh, come on. Titanic is on shortly. Go get us some coffee and Tim-Tam’s. You know how I love Jack Dawson.’
‘As you wish,’ said Jonathon, disappearing to the kitchen.
‘Do you think she heeded the rebuke?’ Karanasius asked Brendakius, his Ozraphim brother.
‘It was arranged properly. The dragon was shocked – quite shocked. He had not expected David to choose a human over his twin. But he has chosen Justine Atkinson instead of Meludiel.
“Then he has made his choice.”
“Such is life.”
“Then neither Daniel nor Ambriel will win her heart. That is quite ironic, I think.”
“Mmm,’ agreed Brendakius.
* * * * *
Rebecca looked at the sign. “Haven Noahide Fellowship”. This was it, she thought to herself. A whole life dedicated to Jesus, countless concerts dedicated to his glory, and then a crisis of faith in which God says ‘It aint him.’ And so what choice did she really have? Judaism had had its initial appeal but, ultimately, not again. Not again. She would not again go down the Jewish pathway – it was too much to commit to those people yet again. And they were not hers – they were not her family, her culture, her identity. They were simply not Loveheart’s or Celtic Anglo people. Yet Noahides were everyone, and the Celts and Anglo’s were Noahides. So would give this ‘Haven Noahide Fellowship’ a chance. Perhaps it was for her after all.
* * * * *
God looked down at Meludiel entering the Haven Noahide Fellowship assembly hall. He knew his daughter Rebecca would be nervous, but his Son Daniel Daly would take care of her. That much he knew to be true.
* * * * *
The sermon was interesting, similar to her Baptist heritage in many ways, but a bit calmer. She noticed that instantly. She thought on Justine who had suggested that if she really was having a faith crisis with the Baptist church, then perhaps she really should look into the Haven one. Her new friend David Rothchild had spoken about it and said that his brother Daniel knew the pastor, a close friend, another Daniel ironically. Perhaps this would be right for her.
Sitting there in the small hall, the other 5 Noahides having left, Mr Daly noticed her and came down and sat next to her.
‘Well, Miss. How did you find the sermon?’
‘Oh, it was ok.’
‘Do you know what we believe?’
‘Noah’s covenant. I have looked into it a bit.’
‘Yes. We are pretty simple in the end. Mainly the first part of the bible until the Tower of Babel. Uncomplicated, really, unlike the Talmud based movement.’
‘I heard about that. I didn’t like some of the things they taught, nor their strong connection to Judaism. They’re too Jewish for me.’
‘Jews have kept Unitarian faith for a long time when most gentiles strayed. But I know what you are saying, it is the same conviction that I have. Judaism, too me, is for a particular type of people. People with convictions on Torah and that particular type of lifestyle and connection too God, but for me it is too awkward and inconsistent with my own nature. But there is another reason also.’
‘Noahide faith represents the oldest covenant with God. As a proper Noahide our assembly represents, in our faith, the oldest and deepest connection to God. We strive to be the most grown up, in a sense, amongst the children of men.’
‘Isn’t that Israel’s job?’
‘Yes, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. But while that may motivate them, they don’t take it seriously any more. It is religious observation without passion. For many idolatrous messianic devotion without God’s due respect.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Daniel picked up the bible, showed her 1 Samuel chapter 8, and read it to her.
‘…..But when they said, ‘Give us a king to lead us,’ this displeased Samuel; so he prayed to the LORD. And the LORD told him, ‘Listen to all that the people are saying to you; It is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king.’
Rebecca was convicted. ‘The same problem with Jesus, isn’t it?’
‘100% Miss. God gave them Saul, and then David, and they worshipped him. They still loved the LORD, but he wasn’t the God of their hearts that he wanted to be.’
‘And that is what you claim as Noahides, is it? To be devoted to God alone?’
‘Yes. That is the purity of the faith we represent, and we try our best not to corrupt that truth. We are of the Oldest covenant. Of the oldest brit. And we try to take it as seriously as the oldest covenant warrants. To be that which the Most High esteems greatest of all. And we will never budge from that, Miss. Never.’
She looked at him for a moment, her decision made. ‘I would like to join your fellowship, if that is ok. You have said enough for me.’
‘Glad to have you. We are meeting for lunch at 1. Do you want to come along?’
‘The fellowship you mean?’
‘And a few other interested parties. There is a Jewish man named Daniel Rothchild who occasionally takes an interest, but doesn’t come that much anymore. He might be here today, but don’t count on it.’
‘I know him,’ said Rebecca, stunned.
‘Small world, isn’t it.’
* * * * *
Two years later Rebecca was finally happy. Haven was working well. They had not really grown, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was a devoted fellowship and there was a quiet, gentle spirit when she was at assembly. Something which said to her innermost heart, you are home. And she had grown to know she would never leave, and that she had found what she had been looking for. And for that she was thankful. Truly thankful.
‘He’s not much to look at,’ said David.
‘I wouldn’t expect him to be. He’s 72, spent the last 40 years on the street, so he was barely able to communicate to me, dealing with schizophrenia, hoodlums, other drunkards and failing health. He’s been in a bad way.’
‘We are way over budget already this week, Daniel. Perhaps Vinnies can feed him. They always take care of the ones we can’t handle.’
Daniel looked at Fred. He looked at him and an inner voice said ‘Have Mercy.’
‘I know, Dave. I know. We just have to, ok. I’ll put my own money into it.’
David nodded. ‘Alright then. We’ll make room.’
Later that evening, Daniel Rothchild and David Rothchild had finished their rounds of the streets of Sydney, and in the back of the Bus were 8 lost souls, needing food, needing shelter, needing love. They would be taking them back to ‘Haven’ to give them temporary shelter, to personally look into their situation and see what could be done, and to give them that ‘Light of God’s love’ that people on the streets did not always receive.
They had been doing this for some time now – quite some time. They started the work in Canberra, but it spread Australia wide, and David continued the work himself in Jerusalem. It was there personal ministry in a sense, but Daniel Daly also got involved a lot as it flowed out of ‘Haven’. Daniel Daly and Daniel Rothchild were the brains behind the work initially, and Daniel Rothchild, who had founded Haven and given it its initial doctrinal stance, but left things mainly to Daniel Daly afterwards, took this work of ‘Haven’ perhaps more seriously than anything else. They had good finances now – had been making more and more money – and they employed other workers for ‘Haven Outreach’ around the world. But they never neglected the personal touch. They never neglected doing the ‘guts’ of the work themselves. They knew they had to. God’s love demanded it of them.
Later that evening in the Shelter Daniel brought Fred out to the back room, were there were 3 beds put aside for special cases, currently 2 of them unoccupied. These were special cases which the Outreach wanted to take special care of – those souls which touched them as particularly in need. Fred didn’t have a lot of years left in him. That much seemed apparent. And, knowing how long he must have been out on those streets, suffering, thinking nobody at all loved him and that society had forgotten him, mercy and pity of strange quantities had risen up in Daniel’s heart. He just had to help this guy.
He helped Fred undress and shower and, when he was comfortably in bed Daniel brought in some new clothing from the special supplies cupboard, which he let Fred know were now his. ‘You can stay with us now, Fred. You don’t have to leave. You can stay for your final years. We don’t mind.’
Fred nodded, but wether he really took the information in or not Daniel couldn’t really say for sure. But the old man seemed grateful anyway.
Daniel sat with him that night. He sat with him well into the wee hours, reading softly from the Bible. He read about Samson and Delilah, and about David slaying Goliath, and he read some of the psalms and proverbs. Fred seemed to listen for a while, but then seemed to have dozed off, but Daniel read on anyway. Somehow, someway, this was doing Fred some good.
‘Haven Outreach’, in a very real and true sense, was the heart of what Haven had wanted itself to be for a long time anyway. To start with funds had been limited – they only earned so much and had to help themselves before they could help others. But, in time, their income had grown and they had committed to doing this sort of outreach service, like the Salvos and Vinnies also undertook. There was also a new player – or perhaps, in a strange way, a very old player. The Samaritans. The Taheb pushed his ‘Hostel’s’ strongly these days as places of refuge for those of lower incomes in a tough money hungry world. But they likewise had an outreach program and, from time to time, Haven worked directly with the Samaritans on this. David had long been a fan of the Samaritan movement, and had met the Taheb himself a number of times. Ultimately David seemed to have chosen the Karaite way for himself, but the Samaritans and the Taheb were his other faith, his other respite of spirituality, and he took it to heart to work with them were and whenever possible.
The work, sometimes, was overwhelming. Your heart could not help but fill with sorrow at the real crap some people had to deal with in their lives. Naturally, they couldn’t always help everybody. A lot of people just didn’t want helping, and a lot were too far wasted away on drug or alcohol use that the life they lived was now a shell with a ghost inside just wanting more of that stuff. But, thankfully, there were a lot of souls which David had coined the term as ‘redeemable’ – souls which had just, it seemed, gone off the tracks for a while and just needed a correction or two. Sometimes a correction or three, but the Rothchild’s didn’t mind that.
And nights like these they ran into ‘Fred’s’. Fred’s, who they somehow had missed in previous outings, a guy who probably hid as best he could from the society that either had rejected him or that he had rejected, staying away from all those who could possibly harm him, even when it was someone, like Haven Outreach, which was trying to do him some good.
David and Daniel had given much of their life to this work. And, right at the back of Daniel’s mind, he knew that in the eternal destiny before him this work would crop up again and again at times, and that he would need to be a strong and resolute ‘father figure’ to those who needed shelter from the harsher elements in life.
But, that was what it was all about anyway. Shelter. Helping others. Being that ‘Haven’.
He watched Fred that night, and watched him for a number of months. The old man never really improved that greatly and, despite being able to finally persuade him to take the medications, he still seemed a reclusive fellow in his heart, out of touch, out of the mainstream. He passed on a few years later and, David giving the words at the funeral to a handful of people, one who had been on the streets with him and known him for years, Daniel spoke kind words of prayer to God for Fred’s soul.
‘Father. There are a lot of Fred’s. This one, well, perhaps he was not that special in any particular way, but just special in the way we all are in the end. Souls who need a home. Souls who need love. I pray, make a heavenly abode for this poor man, and grant him grace at this time of his journey, grace which Fred needs, like so many of us, from your infinite mercies. Amen.’
‘The truth is, David. I am not your brother.’
‘Very funny Daniel.’
Daniel Rothchild took out a photo of Daniel Daly and showed it to David.
David looked at it and smiled. ‘Yes, I know. The resemblance is uncanny. But that is genetics – sometimes funny things happen.’
Daniel took the envelope, placed it in front of David’s desk, and sat there, staring at him.
David sensed his brother wanted him to read it, so opened it, noticed it was signed by their father Alexander, and started reading.
We have always raised you to be a good child, and we have worked hard to ensure you had a good work ethic so that you could prosper in life. We thought this our responsible duty. I have something to tell you.
When I was young a met a lady who was on holiday in England with her first child. She was in grief at being near the poverty line, and said to me she could not afford to raise her child. We had become friends at the pub, and I said, in most uncommon fashion that I would offer to raise the child for her. And she accepted.
I met her again, in Canberra, years later by chance, when you were 12. I showed her a photo of you, and she smiled. You were her child, you see.
She lives with her family in Macarthur, were we came from. I moved there with Rose to be near her, for she wanted to see you passing by on the streets. She had asked me to name you Daniel, but her finances improved when she returned to her husband in Australia and had other children, another Daniel amongst them. As you can probably now guess, that was Daniel Daly. He is your younger brother.
I know this comes as a shock to you, and now that I am no longer with you, this letter has been forwarded on by my lawyer at my request.
I leave you to tell David in the goodness of time.
Your loving father
David put the letter down, looked at Daniel and sighed.
They spoke a little more that day, and David went out that night to be alone. In some ways he was not surprised, and in the end life would seemingly go on without much change anyway. But it was a revelation of revelations, and the heart of David Rothchild had taken a knock which he might never quite get over.
‘Lord Chronology and the 700 Time Masters’
From a place, perhaps only existing in fantastic imagination, a place were concepts arise, but aware of by certain individuals, Lord Chronology was busily at work with the Time-Masters. ‘How the Fugg are we going to fix up this doozy?’ queried Apholox to his master, Lord Chronology. ‘Mixing reality with spiritual reality and fantasy is often difficult work,’ replied Lord Chronology to the number one Time Master. Take Booster Gold for instance. He works his ass off in the DCU to ensure proper continuity takes place. A bloody difficult job, but someone has to do it.’
‘Aye,’ responded Apholox. ‘Now, out on the Real Earth matching up the universe of the Children of Destiny with their universe will be challenging.’
‘Let us concentrate on the Chronology for now,’ responded Lord Chronology, very keen on that particular subject. We have to work out the events and dates in the Children of Destiny universe to gradually converge in harmony with the real universe.’
‘Difficult work,’ Apholox.
‘But someone has to do it,’ responded Lord Chronology.
And they both laughed.
“Samael and Logos”
Callodyn looked at the screen. Pope Benedict XVI in another sermon. That pope really was thumping along these days. He remembered his conversation with Logos when Logos had denounced Benedict completely for teaching legalism with the Noahide Laws the pope had discussed for the church. It was back then, in late 2009, when Logos had heard of this that he had declared the Pope dead to himself, twice dead as scripture maintained, and then declared the inauguration of the last pope before his return, Peter the Second.
Callodyn felt that the ancient prophecy of Malarchi, which they had discussed, was perhaps being fulfilled. He knew from scripture that Israel represented the Olive Branch, a common symbol for that people. And with the promotion of the Noahide laws by the Pope which the rabbis favoured, as Malarchi prophecied, Pope Benedict XVI was indeed the ‘Glory of the Olives’. Yet, inevitably, so Logos had declared, Benedict would pass and his inauguration of Peter the Second, the final pope, would come to be.
Logos, sitting behind him, commented. ‘The Noahide laws will not work forever, Samael. They simply won’t. They are flawed from their foundation. They disregard scripture for the emphasis of the heretical Talmudic system of Noahide faith. The penalty of cutting off the head for even the sin of theft is thoroughly ridiculous. Really, Ratzinger should have known better.’
‘I guess I would agrees, Yesh. I favour the scriptural approach to that faith. I am aware of a fellowship, ‘Haven Noahide Fellowship’, which teaches the approach of the Hexateuch alone.’
‘Hexateuch?’ queried Logos.
‘The first six books of scripture, ending with Joshua.’
‘An interesting approach. I do not think that I would agree, but perhaps something to look into one day.’
As they continued to watch Benedict continued with his sermon, another fine day passing on planet earth when all was seemingly well in the world.
Eve and Adam 2
'The Mother of all the Living,' said Lucinda, and gave him one of those 'Your an idiot' looks, and returned to her issue of Vogue Magazine.
Jonathon looked at her - glared at her really - and then reached over for his french fries, and started eating them again.
'Bullshit,' he said softly after a while.
'Argue with scripture,' came the retort.
'It doesn't mean he's going to save everyone. People - lots of them - are just sinners in the end.'
'They are not serpent seed, idiot. The sinners. They are also seed of the woman.'
Jonathon munched on his fries, ignoring Lucinda's theological point, and continued watching the cricket.
'I mean, take your brother Mark. He is of Satan's very own congregation. The fowlest mannerisms known to man..... no, APE kind.'
'Even Mark has his moments,' responded Lucinda.
'Pity they never show up,' said Jonathon snidely. Lucinda ignored him on that point.
'I suppose I concede that not everyone will be saved. But they could be if they all chose God. Nobody is a predestinated serpent. That Branham idiot has gone to your head,' said Lucinda.
'Paul Saberton doesn't bullshit on Christian theology. The only church I know, Mamre Fellowship, which teaches the Father and Son doctrine of God which the New Testament actually teaches,' replied Jonathon. 'And I've always agreed on predestination. Some people are good, and some are damn bastards.'
'God's love knows no limitations,' responded Lucinda.
'And Satan's seed knows no goodness,' replied Jonathon.
'Blow it out your arse, infidel,' replied Lucinda, and came and sat next to him to watch the cricket.
'Fries,' she said. He passed her her bag of french fries from the MacDonalds meal they had bought on the way home.
'Yeh, sure. Eve IS the mother of all the living. But Satan is dad of many of them also,' said Jonathon.
'What? Is it in their DNA is it?' retorted Lucinda mockingly.
'Now that is an interesting question,' replied Jonathon.
'Good grief. I've created a monster,' replied Lucinda.
'Humph,' replied Jonathon.
She ate her fries. He ate his. Silence. Cricket being played.
'One thing I know is true, though,' said Jonathon shortly.
'What's that?' she asked.
'Whoever made these fries is the devil's own for sure.'
Lucinda did not comment. She chuckled softly a few moments later though.
'And I'm not liking the looks of those burgers either,' he said. 'Cholesterol city I think.'
'Want to dine out?' she asked.
'I know this indigenous place,' he said. 'They cook snake.'
Lucinda looked at him, and returned her focus to the cricket.
'Should be perfect,' she replied.
'And they say the devil doesn't eat his own,' he mocked.
'Asshole,' she replied.
'Bitch,' he said.
They did eat indigenous that night. Snake wasn't on the menu. Neither of them complained.
“The Fantasmagorical Adventures of Insanity Man”
‘Amazing. Really, amazing. Now pass the chips.’
Bruce was disappointed – she really did not give the slightest Fugg as far as he could tell, no matter how much he bragged about the plot for his hopeful debut bestseller of all time.”
‘But the title, I mean, really, its Fantasmagorical.’
‘Is that even a real word Bruce. I think perhaps you just made it up.’
‘No, it’s real. Not in the dictionary yet, but it will be. Jus you wait.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Now, after Insanity Man defeats the “Sane One” in a battle of wits, the “Sane One” finally concedes Insanity is true wisdom.’
‘What happens next,’ she asked, eating another chip.
‘Well, I’m not really sure. That is the opening chapter and it is as far as I have got.’
‘Perhaps you’re Insanity Man, Bruce. I mean, come on.’
‘Look Rach. It’s cool. It’ll sell tonnes. I’ll be rich.’
‘And I’ll be the queen of England one day.’
‘You’ll see, you’ll see.’
* * * * *
Unfortunately for Bruce Magee, after about 3 years of solid submissions he still had no takers. It seemed that nobody wanted to touch ‘The Fantasmagorical Adventures of Insanity Man’. He finally, out of frustration, deleted it from his computer and threw out the USB drive.
‘Too much bloody heartache,’ he said to himself, and went to bed.
The following morning he felt a little better. His mind had cleared up a little and Insanity Man had been put to death as it were. And then the new plot entered his head, a far more sane alternative, and an English bestseller began to form on the IBM computer in the flat of Bruce Magee, a happy little sane man busily typing away.
The Fantasmagorical Adventures of Insanity Man 2
Rachel Chan, longsuffering girlfriend of Bruce Magee, bent down near the trash can, picked up the object, and looked at it. It was a USB device. Funny, who would throw one of these out, she thought to herself.
'So. Number One for 17 weeks, babe. 'The Cardinal Sin', has been huge.'
'I think you brag too much, Bruce. You just got lucky,'said Rachel.
'Hey, I was born to shine,' he said smiling.
'Is this yours?' she asked him, showing him the USB.
'Not Insanity Man,' he said, holding his head. 'I feel sick,' and he disappeared out to the bathroom, vomiting for half an hour.
Despite thinking she really should know better, she plugged it in, brought up the document, and started reading.
'It's really not that bad, Bruce. With your new success, perhaps you should resubmit.'
'And become the laughingstock of the British literary scene. I think not.'
'Old Chinese proverb say, if at first you don't succeed, try try again.'
'Old Chinese proverb, you say,' queried Bruce, eyebrow raised.
'Well, maybe,' she said.
'Mmm. The Fantasmagorical adventures of Insanity Man. Nah, I couldn't risk it. I couldn't. It would be the death of me.'
'Try,' she said.
And he looked into her very honest eyes, and knew his destiny. Britains major comic writer.
'OK Rach. Just for you, mind you. Just for you.'
Mr Warm joined Potters House Canberra in 2073 CE, gladly welcomed by the flock who, upon hearing his full name, gave the pastor a sly but careful look and dutifully went outside to laugh softly so as not to be heard.
Sofya Faraq smiled at Luke, slightly puzzled. She said a quiet prayer to Jesus saying, ‘For heaven’s sake, J. Don’t you have any mercy? With a name like his in our church?’ But LJC remained silent.
He had made his commitment and was very serious about it, but 3 months later, despite heavy convictions that it was impossible to move to another part of the body of Christ, he had just about had enough.
The pastor, in his mercy, had gone easy on him, but the flock knew no such graces.
And so, Luke Warm, almost ready to deny the Revelation of John, carefully disappeared from the ranks of the Assembly, off to the calmer waters of the Revival Fellowship.
Paul Saberton was really, and very truly, pissed off. Several thousand churches in the heavenlies. Ready to demonstrate his place as one of the Sovereign elect of Christ, keeper of the doctrines of truth of the New Testament, and when he passes and arises to the heavenlies, the Whore itself is there, and Jesus likes her, and all the little harlot daughters are out busy evangelizing the populace. Boy did things suck. All Brenton would say was to cheer up because Jesus was just being compassionate. He knew, in the end, who his true elect were. He must. The word of God demanded such loyalties.
But try as he might in his initial evangelistic crusades from his father’s home, who he was very surprised to find in heaven, assuming he must have slipped by temporarily for a reward for his good works towards one of the elect, as Jesus did promise a reward to such people, he seemed to have little to no success in building Superchurch, the church of the glory of the Father and the Son. But narrow was the way, so he would keep the faith.
And then Satan showed up. Of course, he had always liked Daniel Daly, thought him very spiritual initially, but thought he had sold out on Jesus for Noah, and as such two men could not walk together with such major disagreements. And then Daniel began his campaign of indoctrination into Haven Noahide Fellowship.
The first task, from this dark lord, was the addressing of Paul’s Messianic concerns. And Paul, having arrived at the conclusion that if Daniel had reached heaven being a Noahide, as well as all the other people who were now here, he would give him a fair hearing. Perhaps, in the sense of mercy which God had been teaching him since his arrival home, he could exercise some patience and carefully voice his disagreements. Perhaps Daniel, in time, would see the error of his faulty thinking.
But, inevitably, the debates were difficult and challenging, and Daniel likewise gave no quarter, exhausting Paul’s nerves and patience many times by some of his claims.
In the end, though, he saw Daniel’s points. He recognized the arguments and were he was coming from, and could at least understand his opponents perspectives. And then Daniel had a word of wisdom. ‘Things like this take time, Paul. Lets be friends – we know how to do that – and let the discussion come forth slowly and carefully in a spirit of good friendship.’ Paul didn’t object to that and, as the years passed, they discussed the issues gradually, but neither side really shifted.
And then Meludiel showed up. She preached love as salvation. Paul didn’t argue. Daniel basically agreed. And they were friends again, and they let the issue drop. The one in error would find the truth in the fullness of time.
So they had fellowship, and peace was restored, and things were good for Paul Saberton in his heavenly rewards. And the future – well only Jesus knew for sure.
“Kayella and Callodyn”
‘I’d do anything. I’d give you my world. I’d cross the threshold of the infinite, ride on the rays of the eternal glory, slay demons, defeat devils, crucify frauds, and even get around to sending you some roses, chocolates and all that girly stuff you apparently like.’
‘Really you’d do all that for me?’ asked Britney, her eyes shining brightly.
‘Fugg no. I’m not that innocent babe. Remember, all men are bastards. Don’t forget, k. We don’t break that easy, lass. Don’t forget, mind you. Don’t forget. Hey, shall I quote Genesis at you?’
‘You are such a male. They are so arrogant these days. So bloody arrogant.’
‘Hey, we’re all womanizers aren’t we? I mean, that is what you call us all, so who gives a flying Fugg, sweetheart. Who gives a flying Fugg.’
‘At least David romances me and says sweet and lovely things.’
‘David? Gayvid you mean? That homo.’
Brit smirked a little at that. ‘He’s not gay. Shut up. Shut up.’
‘Nah, all of those type are totally gay, cupcake. Totally gay. He is too sensitive. Really, he is mush in the end. Soft mushy goo. Bwerrh. Who the hell cares. Not me.’
‘Oh, I think you underestimate Mr Rothchild. He really is very advanced in many ways. Really, very advanced. For example, he is extraordinarily wealthy. How about that?’
‘An inheritance quickly earned is quickly spent. How about that?’
‘We go slow. Very slow. In fact we ‘walk’ with God. I mean, he has all the moves, all the love, all the charm, but there is a teeny weeny little problem which, in the end, a girl who actually prefers to ‘Get it Right’ will actually give a damn about. And I am the master on getting it right, cupcake. Jus you wait and see.’
‘Cool. Oh, by the way, as an act of good faith, would you like a drink of watermelon juice? If you don’t want one, that’s cool. But remember, babe, I won’t always play so easy to get. If you are not really, in the end interested, I will take the hint. I have learned that lesson before and know when to butt out.’
‘So that’s it then? Britney, gone and forgotten? Off to the new girl?’
‘It takes two to tango, cupcake. It takes two to tango.’
‘Cool. Oh, there was this girl I fancied once. Really fancied her. I was prepared to commit – really loved her. But the Gayvid fellow pushed in, promoted his angelic name, and claimed her as his own. So, fine. If he wants her then that is the way it is. I still like her, but Gayvid is up his arse, so Fugg him.’
‘I get the point.’
“Vain and Pretentious”
‘Cool! You want me to be Fugging cool? Cool people are simply vain and pretentious, replied Daniel to Billie’s request.’
‘You are soooo uncool, Daniel. Despite the fact that you have the bearest modicum of talent in that tryhard brain of yours, you simply have no real idea how to apply it. You are so out of touch with modern tastes and styles. Living in clothing fashions belonging to those BELOW the lower class. You’re crap, Daniel. Crap.’
Daniel looked at her and smiled to himself. Typical for a daughter of Babylon. Really, quite typical. Giving lip service to the ‘In Crowd’, staying cool to maintain her reputation, producing the kind of material which was, apparently ‘Cool’ or ‘In’. Really, in the end, he doubted she was worth the effort. She was pretty, had decent music and dressed nicely, but the Billie who was Billie seemed now to be something entirely different. A clone of the ‘In’ scene. A product of manufactured style, not flowing from the natural spirit Billie herself should try to express.
Mr Daly replied. ‘Who gives a Fugg, cause I sure as hell don’t.’
‘But don’t you want to be ‘Popular?’
‘Hey, babe, Popular was a song by Dazzer. That Savage Garden fellow. And we all know the kind of people he is in to, don’t we. And, hey babe, ‘HE JUST SOLD HIS SOUL.’
‘So don’t have a go at me for being myself. I do what I want, think what I want, say what I want, and am sensitive when I want to be. All to suit my Fugging self. And if I want to have double standards and apply one standard to myself and another standard to someone else I Fugging well will. And, really, babe I don’t give a shit. I really don’t give a shit. Because the reason is, agro blokes are full of violence. And the God I serve destroys violent men and women – those are the FACTS of life. So if you want a ‘Tough Guy’ or a ‘Solo Man’ or a ‘Body Builder’ or all the other kinds of egomaniacs, go for it, because I really don’t give a shit. I am not going to conform to someone else’s opinion of what I should be like just because they want me to. Fugg the world, as far as I am concerned. So if you like those sorts of men, then you really aren’t for me in the end, babe. And I guess that is just the way it is.’
‘Whatever,’ responded Billie, and walked off looking for a hot guy to shag.
* * * * *
Daniel sat at home, put on a CD, drank some Coke, and felt better. Some worlds were not meant for Mr Daly, and that really was the way it was. No point in trying to put a Hexagon into a Square shape. It just didn’t work in the end.
The Cherubim Urakiba
‘Angel of God’
(Note: The first 3 chapters are from ‘Eternity’. The last 3 chapters are original material.)
Urakiba, often, remembered the early days of life for the Cherubim. His brother Semyaza had been greatly admired by many of the Cherubim, so eloquent in speech and passionate in heart for the Cherubim community. Urakiba had looked up to him for a long time because of this, joining him and following his methods which had led Urakiba also to be admired in the Cherubim community. Yet his twin, Talael, had admonished him often, encouraging him to be his own angel. Able to stand firm for his own life not always having to run around after Semyaza.
Urakiba and Talael were the secondborn in the Cherubim community. They came from the community of India in the Pelnaphora district, were Gandel of the Seraphim often resided as well, he being the oldest and most respected of the Pelnaphoran Indian community.
Urakiba had, initially, been a little reluctant to partake of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil, but when Semyaza had persisted, he had gone along with the idea, like Ramiel and Kokabiel.
For weeks afterwards Urakiba had been greatly depressed, very withdrawn and almost hating life. But then there had come two days of extreme joy, almost as a climax most unexpected – a time of healing – to the days of darkness.
He had contemplated death in those days, as if such a thing were ever a possibility for an angel. No angel in the community of the Realm of Eternity had ever died but, slowly, Davriel and others had been communicating to the realm that, as Torah said, in the Garden of God was knowledge of life but also, and to be feared because of it, there was knowledge of death.
But for the angels of eternity, death was something all of them had yet to encounter.
Very rarely an Angel did major injury to himself, in which case the healing properties of Mitraphon could be called upon to assist the Angel in healing. It seemed no malaise was beyond the healing ministry of Raphael and Mitraphon. But, fortunately, injuries were rare, apart from minor cuts and bruises, and as such Raphael’s great powers were rarely called upon.
But Urakiba, in his recent malaise, had wondered, should the mysterious death enshroud his soul, whether even the greatest of healing powers of Raphael could recover him from the grip of the underworld, to which he almost felt destined to travel to.
But, no, he had healed from the darkness, and when the joy had subsided, normality had returned.
And now, in light of the way the fruit had affected him, Urakiba was seemingly following the pathway both Saruviel and Semyaza had trodden, into his own private introspective thoughts on the authority of God and whether such a thing need necessarily be as it was in the realm of eternity.
He thought on the Seraphim Torah and his recent malaise. Section 11 principle 9, Melaniel’s principle, read: ‘In the Garden of God is the Knowledge of Life’.
To know this life, Urakiba felt, would be so important. Would be so fundamental to his life. Of course, the Seraphim partook of the tree of life of the Garden every century, but the Cherubim only partook so, in the centre of Zaphora, once a millennium, as this was all they really needed, so God had maintained, an issue which had puzzled Urakiba.
When he had first partaken of the tree of life he truly had felt an invigoration of the soul, and had been tempted, as many of the cherubim had been, to ask for more.
And due to that life in him from the fruit, when it had come to knowledge of good, which Urakiba seemingly connected with knowledge of life, he had made another connection.
He had partaken in his early youth of the tree of life. And, recently, with Semyaza, under Saruviel’s suggestion, of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And thinking on Melaniel’s principle in the Seraphim Torah, he thought on the very next principle, section 11, Principle 10, Davriel’s principle, which read, ‘In the Garden of God is the Knowledge of Death.’
If life was good, was death, then, evil? And if he had partaken of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, did he now have knowledge of death within his soul? Perhaps, in the very craving for death that had haunted him, that may have been very, very true.
But, now, the pain and the passion were gone from him, and normality resumed. Yet, the questions lingered on. And in those questions simply being there, which Semyaza also had affirmed, Urakiba questioned what exactly would knowledge of death bring about for his heart and soul.
God had spoken to Urakiba personally, in one of the throne-rooms, speaking of one of the eternal children unknown to the angels of the Realm of Eternity. He had forbidden him speaking of her to others, but had taught him that ‘Death’ was one of the eternal children of God from the Realm of Heaven, as it was known as. And then he had told him this, ‘Urakiba, Angel of God. Within the heart of death, hades herself, from which none ever return, the eternal destiny of darkness lives on forever. If you venture to this realm only Death’s gentle embrace you will ever know. Unless, of course, those other Eternal’s insist on interfering. Which they might, dear child of God. They just might.’ And then God had been silent, speaking no further, and the flickering of purple amongst the flames had returned to the persistent green which Urakiba was most used to.
With all of these thoughts in mind something, though, did become clear to Urakiba. Saruviel had around him a spirit – a spirit of darkness. Urakiba had sensed this spirit on more than one occasion. This darkness was of death, Urakiba had begun to believe. Saruviel had very early on partaken of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil and, in a sense, partaken of death. And because of that, the darkness hovered there, around him, enshrouding his soul.
For Urakiba darkness, death and evil had now become associated with the stance Saruviel had seemingly taken in relation to God his father – one of rebellion, denying God’s authority and the notion of individual freedom.
And because of this reality, Urakiba had come to a firm conclusion in his mind. If he trod water with Saruviel and Semyaza in the way they were heading, he would taste, ultimately, death. Of this he was sure. And to choose that, would mean he would meet the child of eternity and disappear into her eternal dark embrace. And, in that temptation – in that temptation to leave life completely and embrace the heart of what could only be called ‘Other’, Urakiba surrendered his soul, dedicating himself to pursue the agenda of Saruviel and Semyaza to the very bitter end. And, ultimately, for no other purpose than to taste the fruit of death itself and see what ungodly paradise it could offer his soul.
‘And the serpent. When the serpent is grown, Ramiel, it becomes a dragon, as all serpents in fact do. For the destiny of Serpents is to partake of the blood of their enemy and fly into the heights of eternity, filled with new life through death. For life, through death, is the glory of the Serpent – the glory of the dragon – the glory of the devil.’
Ramiel sat listening to another of Urakiba’s endless tales about Serpents and Dragons and Devil’s from the Torah’s rich tapestry of imagery, but for Ramiel such teachings, while flattering his now bad-boy imagery and nature, were the stuff of imagination only, and no practical use apart from fantasy story telling.
Indeed, for Ramiel and Semyaza, who had witnessed firsthand Saruviel’s first exile for the rebellion, and second exile only to be finally forgiven for that also, returned to them once more, but taken to the heart of God in repentance and restoration, seeing Saruviel, as many once did, as the grand ‘Dragon’ of the Seraphim and Cherubim Torah, which Urakiba seemingly maintained – one destined to lead the coven of dragons in their war against the children of the light, as the Cherubim Torah spoke of – had lost its potency as a strong belief for so many given Saruviel’s current repentance and acceptance of the authority of God. Ramiel had maintained that if Saruviel ever really were such a Dragon, it had since departed his nature.
Ramiel suspected, personally, that Azazel was perhaps the infamous dragon of the Torah. Azazel himself, unlike Saruviel, had been born in Kalphon Keep, the firstborn child of God of the Cherubim to have come alive in the throneroom of Kalphon. And considering Azazel’s rebellious nature, he who was the 21st born male of the Cherubim of eternity, who had become such a dragon in so many ways, often competing with Semyaza for the headship of the growing community of ‘bad angels’ amongst the Cherubim, seemed like the far more likely suspect to be the infamous ‘Dragon’ of the Torah. And in that assumption, Ramiel was in fact quite correct, unbeknownst to himself. Of course, the realm would never suspect Azazel. Who possibly could. His name Azazel was only a secondary name, a strange secondary name, with some sort of rationale behind it which Azazel kept to himself. For Azazel was none other than Jesus of the Cherubim, 21st born. Azazel had long ago joined in with the bad boys and said Azazel would be his name in fellowship with them, but they must keep his identity secret and never let his flock know he had joined them, to which they had agreed. He was the ‘hidden one’. The ‘hidden’ member of the bad boys, one who was never revealed, only known to the top bad boys who swore secrecy on the issue.
Yet Urakiba himself, while he had nearly always viewed Saruviel as the Dragon, being one who had promoted such ideology for so long, was slowly coming to the position of Ramiel and Semyaza in accepting Azazel as the new and most likely of identities for that role.
Azazel, himself, was perhaps the most feared of the ‘Bad Boy Angel’s’, and had gained a reputation around the realm for fierce fighting, especially when drunk. While it was still true that, while they carried on this image, they still apparently respected God and attended the usual celebrations the other angels did. The community was slowly and inevitably coming to the conclusion that there existed amongst them two competing forces or groups based on two fundamentally and diametrically opposing principles.
On the side of goodness were such angels as Michael and Gabriel and the other Archangels, and especially Ambriel who was disdained greatly by those of the darkness.
On the side of the dark a smaller number, initially followers of Saruviel, but now particularly in line with Semyaza who remained of such inclinations, and the ultimate bad boy himself, Azazel, who was generally feared amongst the populace to whom he was the ultimate figure of darkness and mystery.
This problem, if it were a problem, was ignored by many of the senior angels in the community for much time. Yet, when Saruviel’s reign began, it was queried by many what would now happen. Seemingly, though, during Saruviel’s millennia reign as head of Zaphon and the Realm in general, little did change in this respect and it was only as Michael took over the running of Zaphon as head overseer for the fourth time, that what had been happening silently during Saruviel’s tenure became noticeable.
The darkness had been growing. Slowly, silently, and inevitably, the darkness which emanated ultimately from Samael of the Realm of Heaven, the grand devil behind all the schemes of evil, infiltrating the Realm of Infinity when and were it could and, likewise, through Samael’s protégé, fallen from the Realm of Infinity, firstborn of the Saruvim Angels, Satan, who now haunted the Realm of Eternity with his other Fallen Saruvim Cohorts, to the purpose of achieving the plans of Samael of Heaven in his opposition to Destiny of Heaven, the darkness had indeed been growing through Saruviel’s millennia, and was now about to strike.
The father of Glory, from his eternal domain, had spoken with Eve – Destiny – of the Children of Heaven. And he had pronounced a judgement upon Saruviel for Saruviel’s lack of dealing – once and for all – with his legacy of darkness, by countering the work he had earlier done. He had spoken with Destiny and crafted the ultimate role within her plans of the final days ‘Antichrist’, the man bearing the number 666, as a punishment to Saruviel for his failing to rebuke the seed of evil he had sown when he should have. This destiny would come to Saruviel in the latter days – in the days of ‘Terra’ – but he would not know of the judgement of God until years beyond then. God would leave him a time to contemplate and, ultimately, teach him why he had been judged as such.
When Saruviel’s millennia did in fact end, Urakiba had suggested something.
God had announced, with the return of Michael, an impending creation. The creation of ‘Terra’ and mankind.
Urakiba, mighty Angel of God, had suggested to Azazel and Semyaza that the dark angels, or demons as they had come to be known, seek to corrupt the ways of the humans and seek to control the destiny of mankind. And Semyaza and Azazel had both listened to Urakiba’s ideas and, in the end, agreed and affirmed to them. Yet they would wait many years, for the creation of mankind was to be postponed. For many reasons, beyond the knowledge of the Angels of Eternity, God had deemed it important for the idea of man to be known first, and brought into being much later. With proper planning came success, for in mankind the destiny of angels lay eternally intertwined.
When the creation of men finally came to pass, the demons fell to earth and, through Enoch, God passed his inevitable and ultimate judgement on the evil angels. It had been a judgement long awaited by the good angels of eternity and, when the evil had been purged from them, they had been greatly relieved.
But the judgement of God had been without mercy and as the years passed in heaven Ambriel thought on his brothers gone from him, and he thought on Urakiba who he had gotten to know for some time early in Urakiba’s youth. And Ambriel had besought his father and pleaded for mercy. And God had spoken to Ambriel and asked him if no other would plead – as if he was all alone. So Ambriel had spoken to Daniel, with whom the friendship of angels had become close, and Daniel had agreed to speak on the fallen ones behalf as well.
And then God had passed this judgement.
‘Dear Children, ultimately, in life, there is no place or no heart or no evil that can escape the love of goodness. You, dear children, have shown this. And because of this I speak to you that every heart – whosoever it may be – which truly seeks repentance before God, can and will be forgiven through the atonement of the soul.’
‘So there is hope for them, Father?’ Ambriel had asked, in hope. ‘If they repent, dear son. If they repent.’
And with that decree Ambriel and Daniel had been satisfied.
* * * * *
In the suffering torment of hades which Urakiba had dwelt in so long, God had watched over his son seeking signs of repentance, as he had promised Ambriel he would. And God had, ultimately, seen those signs. And, acting in his mercy, which endures eternally, God had lead Urakiba to a place in his heart were he remembered being a simple Angel of God – not of the darkness – not of evil – not of hate and despair and death – but an Angel of God, loved by many and brought to life to enjoy the goodness of life in the Realm of Eternity.
And God had helped his son, then, and when the final embers of madness had been crushed from his soul, new life in his humanity in India, in the year 2010AD by the Christian Calendar, began for Urakiba, secondborn of the Cherubim Angels of Eternity.
5980 – 6000 SC (2010 - 2030 AD)
‘Arjuna. His name will be Arjuna.’ The wife of Ravi Shrinistan nodded silently at her husband’s choice of names. ‘It is a good name, husband. May Krishnah watch over him.’
Arjuna grew steadily from a tiny baby in his home city of Bombay, choosing to play cricket at the age of 5, growing more and more competitive at the game as he increased in age. When he was in his early teens he had forsaken the Hinduism of his upbringing, coming more in line with the modernizing of India. And at 19, just selected for his provincial cricket side, and already talked about as a potential national representative, Arjuna thought of himself as a modern day Indian, free from the religious shackles of the past, born again into the new modern era of progress and civilization. And then, having top scored for his side on averages for the season with an impressive 83 run average, the national selectors put him into the national side for the upcoming test series against the Aussies in Australia. Arjuna was more excited than he had ever been. Real wealth would now come into his life. But more than that – a chance to represent his beloved homeland and face the threat of the world champions from Australia.
* * * * *
‘Yo Michael. Watch him bat. He looks good.’ Michael Warne, son of Shamus Warne the legendary Australian leg spin bowler, came over at Jonnos’ request and gandered at the Indian batsman in the nets. ‘Right in the bloody middle of the bat. Practically every ball. It’s as if he sees it with a microscope. Hits it right were he wants it.’ The leg spinner nodded at Jonnos comment. ‘Everyone has a weakness, Jonno. We’ll find his. Don’t sweat it.’ ‘Let’s hope so,’ replied Jonathon Bradlock.
Warne noticed his team-mate ‘Saad Beed Warner’ staring at the Indian. ‘You reckon he is any good,’ Michael asked him. Saad was carefully observing the Indian’s style, noticing how he anticipated the ball well, keeping his eyes solidly focused on it all the way from the bowler’s delivery. ‘He’s like the Don,’ commented Saad. ‘Keeps his eye on the ball.’ Warne nodded. ‘Is he a danger, Saad?’ ‘Could be. They have a warm up match in a few days. The PM’s XI. If they put him in watch his innings carefully. Take notes, ok.’ Warne nodded. They would crack the Indian, he was sure of it. But looking at him as he again struck a ball right off the middle of the bat Michael Warne knew he was in for a contest. One hell of a contest.
Michael was nervous. Australia had managed a modest total of 272 in their first innings, dismissed half an hour before the end of play on day one. India had opened with its usual opening pair and Australia managed an early wicket with an over left in the days play. It was then Arjuna came to bat. 6 blocked balls from Arjuna from the last over of the day, but right in the middle of the bat. He seemed impregnable.
That was yesterday. A good day for the Aussies in comparison. It was again half an hour before the end of day and India were 1 for 417, Arjuna 3 runs short of his double-century on debut. The partnership had just passed 400 and the Indians in the crowd were going berserk. Michael Warne didn’t want a double century. He had already gone for nearly 150 runs with no wickets and the series looked threatened, as well as their world champion’s status. India was second on the table currently, just behind the Aussies and just ahead of the Poms. If they won this series they would be ladder leaders – official world champions.
He thought about using one of his dad’s classic deliveries – the flipper. He had saved it all day and felt now was the time to use. He walked in, let the ball go, and a few moments later with the Indian crowd cheering a wonderful 6 from their new hero, Arjuna was on 203 not out. It didn’t look good for the Australians. It didn’t look good.
* * * * *
317 on debut was not a bad effort so his team-mates kept telling him after they had won the test, but Arjuna was still somewhat disappointed. He had been set, his eye firmly on the world test record. But he had fallen nearly 100 runs short, and would have to wait some other time for the glory. Warne had gotten him in the end. Another of the flipper deliveries which had caught him by surprise. For much of the last two days Arjuna had been on top of the Aussie, but Warne had been learning as well. Slowly working him out. And, it seemed to Arjuna, it may be the beginning of a long rivalry. A long challenging rivalry between the new Indian superstar and the son of an Australian legend.
‘And the serpent. When the serpent is grown, Ramiel, it becomes a dragon, as all serpents in fact do. For the destiny of Serpents is to partake of the blood of their enemy and fly into the heights of eternity, filled with new life through death. For life, through death, is the glory of the Serpent – the glory of the dragon – the glory of the devil.’ ‘Very funny, Daddy. Besides, you are only a gentle dragon.’ Arjuna scruffed the head of his 8 year old Son Ramiel Shrinistan. He had been telling him stories from Islamic Bahai literature, recent stories, for his family attended a Bahai temple in India with strong Muslim leanings. The stories told of Satan, the chief of the demonic dragons, and his war with the children of Adam and Eve. In true Bahai tradition God had sent messengers for many generations to thwart the Devil’s work in conquering mankind. Ramiel, who had been named after the Angel, took delight in hearing all the stories of angels and devil’s and Arjuna liked entertaining the mind of his young son on such subjects. Young fantasies purely for entertainment. ‘Will you win tomorrow, daddy?’ ‘We’ll see, Rami. We’ll see.’
* * * * *
Again, it was Warne. Almost inevitably Warne. Stranded with number 11 Arjuna had let loose and Warne had now just claimed him. And they only had a lead of 127. But that might just be enough. The final session of the final day had begun and there were only 11 overs left in the days play. A Twenty20 side could probably make the runs, but India had all the advantages of playing Test style on a fading pitch. It would be close. He looked to the skies, prayed a silent prayer to his God and looked at his opponents. This was the final test, again deciding world champions. And as captain of the side he needed to now step up. It was now or never.
* * * * *
Ramiel looked down at the young Indian child, his namesake in a sense. Semyaza was standing next to him, observing the match mostly, but Ramiel was curious about Urakiba’s young son. ‘I hope to have children as well, God willing.’ Semyaza smirked. ‘You’re barely forgiven, Rams. All of us are. He is wrathful, is God. Very difficult to obtain forgiveness from him, especially once he has made up his mind.’ ‘Still, it would be nice,’ said Ramiel, looking down at young Urakiba’s protégé.
* * * * *
India was lucky that day. Australia fell short, hitting a 4 off the last ball, still needing another 5 to win the test. It was drawn. And India retained its world championship. They were still number one.
It was later that day, Arjuna with his wife and son celebrating, that a strange thought entered his head. He had prayed to God that day for the Angel’s to guide him to victory. To be the power in the Indian side leading them to victory. And he had prayed to one particular Angel of God in particular, the angel Urakiba, whom the Bahai story tellers had told many tales about and who was Arjuna’s favourite angel. Somehow, that day, he had felt the strength of an Angel guiding him and giving him wisdom. It was as if the angel Urakiba was with him, helping his captaincy. And when they had ended the match with a draw Arjuna silently thanked God and the angel Urakiba.
But all that night Angels were on his mind. Angels and demons. He knew of the struggle in religion between the saints of the world and the sinners. It seemed, in this era, that it was a blur between the children of God and the children of the Devil. But Arjuna knew what he represented. He knew, now, he served God. He remembered his youth, growing up in Hinduism, were God was a vague concept, not clearly defined by his parent’s. But he had faith now and praised the Almighty and it was, in some way, as if he had made a long pilgrimage from the darkness into the light. He couldn’t explain it but it was as if he had been involved in an Angelic war all his life and had somehow come from a losing position into a winning one. It felt strange in his heart, the spiritual realm, as if he was alive to it in some way – a way unlike so many others who he talked to about it but who couldn’t really relate. But, whatever the truth of it all, Arjuna was happy with the way God had protected him and his family and led him onwards in his destiny. And silently he thanked the Angel of God who had protected him and strengthened him, giving him victory in his darkest hour.
“The Impossible Unification of the Warring States of Terravana and Kadramere”
Terravana was simple in its hatred. They are an inferior people, and all mankind knows that. Yet, despite being a significant micronation of 7,000 citizens on the south east continent of Australia, Terravana was generally disregarded by the Australian Continental Micronation League as unruly and plain rude to their next door neighbours. Kadramere were copycats. I mean, come on, said the president of Terravana. Who the hell starts a micronation next to another one? And considering the founders of Terravana and Kadramere were cousins, the latter stealing the idea for a micronation from the former, they had always been disdained as copycats, unoriginal and any other such slur which perchance crossed their mind.
And then the wars began.
Kadramerians stole beer first. Supposedly a joke, but with no great opposition police force to worry about, and the regular mainland Australian Government not interfering, Kadramere went for it. And then it escalated. Fortunately, they were civil enough to never kill their enemy, but there were many confrontations of strong words and complaint.
Eventually Terravana had had enough and insisted to the league Kadramere be barred and kicked out, denied the league currency which had recently become accepted by Australia itself as a tradeable currency. But the league Supreme Chancellor had another idea. Unification was the cry. Simply for Kadramere to acknowledge its unoriginal idea and join its older brother, as sense dictated. But everyone knew that was impossible.
Roj Blake was a proud Terravanian – very proud. And Avon Jennings, a feared Kadramerian foe, had him on his list as enemy number one. But they were brought to the council of the Supreme Chancellors table and he put this before them.
‘Peace must reign between you two brothers. You are responsible for over 20,000 souls, so you must be at peace. You two presidents need a United Nation, with two provinces. It is the way forward, and the whole league knows it.’ As the Supreme Chancellor spoke those words President Blake looked at President Jennings and smiled.
‘Well, how about it? Put to rest old warring wounds and unite?’
‘But is that not simply impossible? Can we really get along?’
‘We can try?’
‘Well, alright. We’ll try. And the new name of the Nation?’
The chancellor spoke up. ‘Kadravana.’
They looked at him, looked at each other, and both nodded. And thus it was settled. The impossible unification between Terravana and Kadramere had come to pass, and life in Australia would never be the same again.
‘Life in Kadravana’
Jantok Blake had been an Aussie. Had been. But now, thinking over his move to his cousin’s province of Kadramere in the micronation of Kadravana, he reflected on the totally different spirit which pervaded the place. Far more potential, really. Far more than Australia. Australia was dull, boring, predictable. Locked up on a legal system mainly to control its renegade citizens. The Aussie Bloke. But Kadramere, now, was flourishing. Just south of Eden, Kadravana was a fair size micronation, with many people. They didn’t have a huge amount of land, and had built upwards. But they were competitive on the world stage on the one thing they did have – talent. You see, the spirit of Kadravana, a micronation with two provinces, seemed to have a unique culture which brought forth writings and intelligent literature totally unlike the boring and predictable mainstream world. It was unique. And they didn’t sell it cheaply. They had access to the World Wide Web, paying for it from Australia, and charged in Australian dollars for their fiction and other writings and music to be read and listened to. And they were becoming wealthy. In the end a macronation was boring, predictable, and didn’t offer much of a unique life. Escaping the rat race, escaping Babylon as his father had put it and then encouraged his son to come join him – well that was simply the way to go. Out with the old, in with the new. A new world – a brave new world – escaping the old traditions which were going nowhere and doing nothing. And as a Noahide, looking up at the sun setting, he said to himself ‘Thank God for that. Thank God for that.’
Kayella and Callodyn 2
'And what is up your arse about Britney anyway? Hardly a faithful twin,' said Kayella.
Callodyn locked onto the control panel of his X-Box 3, and looked at his options. 'Hey, infinite lives. Only 1 Billion bucks for this game.'
Kayella ignored him.
'Yeh, I guess I can afford it,' he said, as he provided his credit card details and paid for infinite lives on 'Wrath of the Gladiator 55'.
'Men and their boys toys,' said Kayella. 'And anyway, you are ignoring my question. Cherubim Britney is not your style. Far too cool for the likes of you.'
'So she tells me,' replied Callodyn. 'But I'm a cool kid in my own way.'
'I suppose dung beetles do have their interesting points,' replied Kayella.
'Exactly,' replied Callodyn. 'Now shut up. It will probably take me all night to finish this damn game.'
'For a billion realm credits it better,' she replied. He ignored her.
'Shouldn't you be off fighting Satan or something, Kayella. You are apparently the hottest shit in the world according to him these days.'
'He knows when he has been bested. Pity you don't realize that yet,' she replied.
'Don't you bloody call me Callophim. I am aware that I am likely a cherubim in fact. And your twin, by the looks of it.'
'Yeh, the theophany said something about that.'
'Boaz seems to think so also,' said Kayella. 'And when are we going back to Televere. I enjoy my visits there.'
'Televeran kind of gal are you?' he asked her, looking at her.
'Maybe. The Realm is home in the end, but Paradision has a beautiful feel to it. Very intense at Twilight Hour.'
'So they say,' he replied, as he started his Gladiator Avatar on the next level.
'Now what is up you about Britney Spears. It's not because she's a pop singer, is it? You have your own fame. Don't see why you need a pop singer as a girlfriend of all things.'
'Pity you can't sing,' he replied. But then he paused, thinking. 'Oh, but you can. That's right, isn't it. You CAN sing, can't you.'
She looked at him. 'Shut up. Don't talk about that.'
'I know who you are, sweetie. Can't place you yet. But I know who you are.'
'Kelly Clarkson, dickhead,' replied Kayella.
'Yeh, I'm pretty sure that's it,' he replied. 'Mmm. Haven't put that CD on yet. Doesn't get released to me for another few hundred years. Still being conditioned into eternity. Or back into eternity.'
She looked at him. Stood, came over, and took the keyboard from beside him. 'Pause that stupid thing or something,' she said.
'Oh, fuckin hell,' he replied, as he paused the game.
She flicked to the Internet, and brought up a web page. It was a pop web page.
'That's me,' she said, pointing to a picture of Earth Pop Star Kelly Clarkson.
Callodyn looked at it. 'Yeh. Yeh, I think so,' he said. 'Any other pictures?'
'All I'm allowed so far,' she replied, and went back to the table.
He looked at the picture for a while, and then flicked back to his game. But, occasionally, through the evening, he glanced at Kayella. He glanced at her, and old memories from life on earth started slowly filtering back in.
“God the Father”
“God the Father.”
“Yes, I know him,’ responded Alexander Darvanius II to Moses statement.
“Do you love him, Alexander? For peace to reign between you and us, you must love your God.”
Alexander looked at the lawgiver. A million responses beckoned him, yet one sufficed.”
“I will try, Rabbi. I will try.”
“Then we may have peace,” responded the Father of the Torah.
It happened in a moment in time. In a moment in infinity and eternity, planned from the mind of God, planned for the unification of his children. And then, suddenly, they became aware. The Angels of Infinity suddenly were visited upon from the children of Heaven who then took some of them to the Realm of Eternity and Paradise as well. And, finally, Metatron left home and started his long awaited holidays in the other realms. Unity hour, at the end of the Millennium on Earth, was the time in which New Terra in the Spiritual Universe came to its final formation, and the resurrections began. New Terra housed all of humanity to start with, such being its magnificent size, but of course, in the very near future, the first 12 planets and then the second 12 planets and then the others were to come forth. Ultimately a continuing expansion of humanities planets for their eternal existence.
And now, at Unity Hour, the awaited further expansion of the Realm of Eternity outwards, with Pelphora, Brephora, Romnaphora and Kalphora, the new outer discs being created, to complete the seven inner discs with the Uniting of the Realms. The Realm of Infinity also accomplished further expansions. And, in the Realm of Eternity, the firstborn of the Saruvim finally came to be.
Unity hour, also, saw the final end to the official economic system. Throughout the realms it was deemed by Michael that the angels and humans had finally toughened up enough on their work ethic that working for a monetary reward no longer seemed necessary. The original system established in the realm were people simply worked in roles most suitable for them, and took their turns on the roster for the more difficult jobs was restored. Money was kept, also, and everyone was allowed the same allowance with their money kept in the banking system. The main purpose of money, in the words of Michael and Saruviel, was that for the ‘collectable’ items of limited supply, items which had a strong demand for by many people, a monetary system in which those who paid the highest price were assumed to be those who desired such objects the most anyway, money was the simplest solution to arrange the distribution of such good. But food, clothing, shelter, and standard goods and services of a non-collectable nature really had no need for money to determine their availability, so the role-system was established in which people simply did the work and provided the goods. And this was deemed, by everyone, wise indeed.
Unity Hour was a point in God’s life that he remembered often as the years passed. He remembered the spirit of friendship and togetherness that people had found, finding new friends and becoming aware of things which had been in existence for so long but never known of. It was a time of awakening, a time of preparation for New Beginnings and a time of real peace, love and joy for the God of Eternity and Infinity. A time he would never, ever forget.
Televon was a beautiful planet, thought Ruth. She and her husband Boaz had settled there, heads of a small Israelite community in the small city of Paradision on the southern continent of Televere called Androma. They lived at the end of a street in Paradision with houses only on one side of the street, the opposite side all bushland as much of Televere still was. Their next door neighbour was a certain ‘Daniel Daly’ who had shared similar religious views, funnily enough, to the children of Israel, himself being a noahide. Daniel was a recent addition to life on Televere, having arrived not long back. And while Ruth and Boaz knew he had lived on earth and that he was also the angel Callodyn, they had not known that he had been the last of the pre-unity angels to have lived on earth. Of course, angels were taking on human form again on earth, yet these were newer angels, ones which had never yet tasted human existence. Daniel had been overwhelmed to have found himself living next to King David’s great-grand parents but all Boaz would say is that it was a small world. Daniel, though, thought destiny may have had a say.
Ruth had three pet cats: Simon, Paul & Mary. They were named after her three favourite Christians, even though she herself was not Christian in faith. When they had first come to new life from Sheol Ruth and Boaz had studied out the Christian faith and attended church often. Like most traditional Jews they soon rejected Jesus as being the messiah, but found his religion in terms of holiness and love quite appealing. They had never formally converted to Christianity in their decades attending various churches, but still felt a sense of community with Christians. However, they were Jewish in the end, keeping faith in their own covenant with God.
Ruth remembered coming to Israel the first time from her homeland of Moab. Boaz had loved her and accepted her. Some of the other woman of Bethlehem had slight feelings of resentment, but accepted her as they had grown to know her. She had started obeying God and following his Sabbath, but there had been no formal conversion processes in those days to take on the torah for females. It had not really been expected of them. But in her years on Televere she had made her bat mitzvah and was now a full member of the Jewish community according to Jewish law.
David visited her often. He lived on one of the northern continents of Televere, which was settled by many Israelites. They had claimed Televere mainly as an Israelite planet, but there were numerous other peoples on the planet as well, a population of around half Jewish and half Gentile. Mostly, after having lived there for some time now, Ruth had noticed that the gentile population was of people who’d generally had good will towards Israel. Perhaps, and unsurprisingly, this was why they were now all together on Televere.
She had visited Zaphon of the Realm of Eternity just the once with Boaz, having been invited by her great grandson of many later generations, the Seraphim Angel Ambriel who had been Messiah. She had found the place idyllic and lovely and her and Boaz had been on a small boat with Ambriel and Meludiel sailing over golden lake. The level of peace in those few weeks had been extraordinary and Ruth looked forward to going back one day.
All things considered, Ruth was happy with her life on Televere. Boaz worked in the local community, mainly helping with farming duties. Televere, as an economy, had a monetary system mixed with what were felt were the best mix of socialistic and capitalistic policies to ensure the best quality of life for all. Everyone had work when they wanted it and nobody went hungry. In this respect it generally followed the economy which had gradually developed in the Realm of Eternity. Ruth was happy enough, living out her modernized life in Televere and, with the new Internet having been established globally, spent much time emailing friends and just enjoying her simple life with Boaz.
‘Well, how say you,’ asked Boaz to his neighbour Daniel. ‘It will be a dinner for about eight of us if you can attend.’ Daniel Daly nodded, generally happy enough to go along to the dinner party Boaz had arranged for the upcoming Sabbath night. ‘Yes, alright Boaz. It sounds good. And thanks.’ Boaz nodded, offered his hand which Daniel shook, and departed.
Walking back up the driveway Ruth was on the front lawn, watering her roses. ‘So is he coming then?’ she asked. ‘Yes, he is coming,’ replied Boaz. ‘Good,’ said Ruth. ‘Claudia has promised to come along as well. This could prove interesting.’ ‘Not matchmaking are we Ruth?’ ‘You have seen fiddler on the roof too many times Boaz. Really, too many times.’ But Ruth really was matchmaking.
Sitting in his living room, listening to his Televeran CD walkman, a Bongiovi All-Stars CD, Daniel thought on the up and coming dinner for 8 next door. Daniel was co-founder of Haven Noahide Fellowship, which had become quite a large fellowship on earth. He had never married though, not finding anyone suitable to himself. There were about a thousand Havenites on Televere, one other living in Paradision. He no longer managed the fellowship on an ongoing basis, but occasionally sent in an email on various spiritual perspectives to the hierarchy which usually forwarded it on to their mailing list. He was retired in a sense, having found more suitable people to replace him in the noahide field of ministry.
He kept it simple now, not overly concerned with finding a mate. Heck, he had been alone all his long life on earth as one of the elect and that had continued in his years so far on Televere. He did doubt he would be alone forever, guessing he would eventually meet someone. But for now the single life suited his purposes.
Ruth, finishing off her watering, went inside to ring somebody. Coming inside she picked up the phone and dialed the number. ‘Hello, Claudia speaking.’ ‘Oh, hello Claudia. This is Ruth. I just wanted to check that you were still available for dinner this Sabbath. That is ok isn’t it?’ ‘Yes, ok Ruth. I have no major plans of my own so I can make it. What time do you expect me?’ ‘Just after sundown, ok. As the Sabbath begins.’ ‘Shall I walk or don’t you mind me driving?’ ‘Up to you, dear. We are not that fussed either way.’ ‘I will see you there then.’ ‘Thanks Claudia. And thank you.’ Hanging up the phone Ruth was happy with her little matchmaking effort. Hopefully everything would go as planned.
The dinner was going well. Daniel was sitting next to Claudia engaged in light banter. He could not help but notice Ruth observing him from time to time, albeit unobtrusively. He smiled. He knew then she had set him up to chat with Claudia, but he didn’t mind. Claudia was an attractive looking Spanish Jew. She seemed familiar in a way, but he could not quite place were he had met her before. Nonetheless they had a good time that night and when Claudia invited Daniel to a movie Ruth and Boaz just looked at him waiting his response. He said yes, and Ruth let out a small smile, trying not to be noticed.
The next day Boaz was in conversation with his wife. ‘You know, Ruthie, matchmaking often has drawbacks.’ ‘Nonsense, Boaz. People who are meant to be together just need a little encouragement. That is all it was about.’ ‘I hope so,’ replied Boaz. ‘Well I got a call from David this morning. He is coming to see us in a few weeks. Just to say hello. He is bringing Bathsheba so it should be an interesting time.’ ‘Oh, that is good. I will have to prepare his favourite meal.’ Boaz nodded.
Next door, Daniel was looking at his clothes. He had a few suitable things to wear to the night’s movie. Some black trousers, a nice red shirt and a leather tie. It was more his type of clothing. He had been a little nervous having been asked out. That had happened rarely in his life. But it only bothered his male pride a little. He was somewhat taken with Claudia and if she was the one for him in the end her asking him out meant little in the grand scheme of things.
That evening, pulling out of his driveway in his red sedan, Ruth ran to his car window and he pushed the button to open the window. ‘Well, it is your night out with Claudia, isn’t it?’ Daniel nodded. ‘Good luck then. Remember to tell me all about it.’ Daniel nodded with his usual smile
Ruth sat in the front living room all that night and when Daniel returned at around 11 she was tempted to go next door, innocently mind you, just to see how the night went. But in the end she decided against it, happy to wait until the following day. She would then know how successful her little matchmaking effort had been.
‘So how did it go then? Tell me all about it.’ Daniel, sitting at his breakfast table, eating a piece of toast with bacon and eggs on the plate, didn’t really mind Ruth bothering him at breakfast. But he did like his breakfast. ‘It went fine Ruth. The movie was great.’ ‘I am not talking about the movie Daniel Daly. How were you and Claudia together?’ ‘Oh,’ said Daniel, smiling somewhat. ‘I had thought you were curious about the movie.’ ‘Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Will you ever learn? To win a fair maiden’s heart you have to be interested in more than just movies.’ Daniel nodded a little. ‘I know. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.’ ‘I think you were when it comes to women, though.’ ‘Very funny. But, seriously, we had a good time. We ate a meal before the show and I got to know her. She said she had known me once, but didn’t disclose were from, which I found surprising. But these things happen in such a long life.’ ‘Yes they do, don’t they. Well, will you see her again?’ Daniel took a bite of toast and turned to the TV, watching the morning show. He never responded to the question and a few moments later Ruth persisted. ‘Well Daniel?’ He continued staring at the morning show, eating his toast, and eventually said ‘Maybe.’ Ruth stared at him. He really was difficult to fathom was this Daniel Daly. But be that as it may she had done her best. Best to now leave it in the hands of heaven she thought to herself.
Later on, having related her story to Boaz, he commented. ‘Perhaps the lad is just not ready to settle down Ruth. You know, some of us go more slowly than the rest on issues like that.’ ‘How old do you have to be Boaz?’ ‘I don’t know. But I don’t think there is a rulebook on romance and life. Things happen when they are meant to happen. You can’t go rushing them. Daniel will find his mate in time. And, perhaps, the last thing he needs or wants is Ruth the wife of Boaz interfering with his destiny. Leave the kid alone. Let him find her in his own way.’ Ruth considered her husband’s words. They seemed, for Boaz, wise enough. So she would listen. But, secretly, if she could bring Claudia and Daniel together, she would. It was good for a man to marry. Of that much she was certain.
Days came and went and Daniel saw Claudia a few more times but, in the end, nothing more eventuated. She was not for him. Still Ruth thought on her neighbour often and wondered just what was in the heart of Daniel Daly. Time will only tell, she thought to herself. Time will only tell.
Kayella and Callodyn 3
'The instant you realize, in your inferior male mind, that the power of a woman knows no limitation, your life will improve, humbled by the fairer sex - indeed in every way - and serving us with your basic brute strength and crude mannerisms. We appreciate your raw beauty, if lack of intellect, charm and every good thing.' Kayella's words were, perhaps, boastful. Callodyn considered them.
'What is most interesting, I suppose, is that its just a rock in the end. Sure, its fucking hard. I mean, you can't break the buggers easily. And it can be made fucking sharp as well. Cut through every bloody thing with one of them. Useful for drill bits and things. But, in the end, shine they indeed might, a diamond is just a bloody rock. But there is the wisdom of the female. Ooh, pretty rock. Get me one, she says. Put it on a ring, she says. I'll love you forever, she says. All based on a chunk of mineral. Amazing.'
Kayella considered that. 'Yes, beauty. Beyond the fathoming of the male intellect.'
'And relationships,' continued Callodyn. 'Everything is about a bloody relationship. I mean, they bitch and moan about each other, and insult and catfight in a way which men are far too civilized to in the end, and use words men are far too civilized to use in the end, but then they kiss, and make up, and say to their 'Girlfriend' - Oh, I forgive you. We just needed a good scrag to resolve the issue. Your my bestie. I'll love you forever. Hypocrites. Complete and utter fucking hypocrites. Men? We're simple in our arguments. Get the fuck out or I'll clobber you ya bastard. But women? Emotional hell.'
'Yes,' replied Kayella, now glaring at her adversary. 'The primitive response mechanisms of the inferior male to the wisdom of femininity. It doesn't surprise me. Your all the same.'
'And clothes. And shoes. Fuck, sweetie, is it necessary to have 700 dresses, which you never wear, and are always out of fashion, and a new pair of shoes in the morning, for the afternoon and evening as well? Men? Simple. Jeans, T Shirt, and that shit will do 24/7. Fuck, even sleep in them if we don't give a crap. But women? 17 trillion designers for the same fucking black gucci dress. Unbelievable.'
'But sports is where they show their true barbarity. Men, lined up, with a stupid little leather ball. And the pride of the nation, mind you, is all hanging on the result.' She beamed, triumphant.
'Of course, the best of all is makeup. 17 hours in front of the mirror, 457 clothes changes, and she still isn't ready when you have been waiting 5 hours to go out and see a movie, and hopefully get lucky later. And we tell em 'You look fine in whatever, sweetie,' and she complains 'It's my hair, isn't it? Be honest. But, no. The greatest of all the prides of Eve - their figure. Let me see, probably more than 1 quadrillion diets known to female kind, and they still haven't worked out that if you simply refrain from stuffing Tim Tams down your gob when you are at home watching Oprah Winfrey then everything will be legit.'
Kayella glared at him one last time. 'I'm going out,' she said. 'I don't know when I'll be back.'
'Cool,' he replied. 'I'll order pizza.'
'Don't wait up,' she said.
But he already had the phone out, and was dialling the number for Pizza Hut.
'Men,' she said, and trouped out to her bedroom, and didn't come out till the pizza arrived. He offered her some. She ate it. He had a soft grin all evening. But she would get him back. Soon enough, she would have her revenge.
The Cherubim Sandra
‘Living in the Realm of Eternity again, after her long sojourn on earth, was a period of bliss in its initial years for the Cherubim Sandra. She had resumed working with Ambriel from time to time, but had gradually travelled outwards to the new outer disc, further out than Terraphora, the new disc of Mitraphora. Mitraphora was the third outwards expansion of the Realm of Eternity, after Zaphora and Terraphora. It was the same width as from Zaphon to the edge of Terraphora, meaning the Realm had doubled again in width. But, of course, circling all around Terraphora the amount of land had grown voluminously. And now the new Ketravim were finding home in the new disc of Mitraphora. The firstborn of the Ketravim was Rachael, who had been the wife of Samael of Infinity on Earth. For a while she had lived on human planets, but had now taken up her destiny and resided in Mitraphora in one of the capitals of the Realm. Since the firstborn, Rachael, had come the secondborn, Lucy Bridges, and then an alarming rush following that. Now, all told, there were around 17 million Ketravim who now resided in Mitraphora. Sandra wondered if there numbers would be one day completed but, seeing the fact that they had recently been developing procreative abilities and having children – something which just started happening, supposedly as part of their gradual development, Michael had announced that the offspring of the Ketravim had, unsurprisingly, a particular name. And that was the ‘Saruvim’, which meant the seventh group of angels. And now, just announced by Michael, the new disc of Pelphora was soon to come to be which would house the Saruvim. And no sooner had Michael announced Pelphora that three days later Ambriel displayed on his internet message board, after a quiet conversation with God, the next 7 discs, each of increasing size. For after Pelphora would come, Brephora, Romnaphora and Kalphora, completing the 7. Then four more discs, Dalnaphora, Bethlephora, Nazraphora and Glimmerphora. And Ambriel, not too subtley, let it slip that like humanity the angels could generally expect the discs to go on expanding on a permanent basis. He also let something go by which pleased many of the angels. Like the abilities to procreate which the Ketravim now had obtained, gradually the earlier angels, as angels, would be endowed with this ability as well. It was simply a matter of time.
Living in Mitraphora, Sandra was now occasionally visited by her twin Samael of the Cherubim who occasionally made the trip from the edge of Terraphora to see her. She had grown gradually closer to Samael, never really having been that close to him in his younger years. But, like many, she craved a relationship with her twin now.
And now, having decided to go on a holiday to a human planet, Sandra had suggested they visit Televon for her to see an old friend who she had known from earth. A certain Daniel Daly who had been a friend of Callodyn Bradlock’s and who had met Sandra and developed an email friendship with. Sandra suspected that Daniel seemed to be one of the Ketravim, just blooming late. He was unlike most humans in the way he more strongly related to angelic beings, but still she couldn’t be sure. So she would go and visit Daniel to catch up and see what was happening in the life of her friend. Like Daniel Sandra had been a Noahide on earth, one of few. Daniel had been a big comic guru and Sandra had worked in one of Callodyn Bradlock’s comic stores. They had discussed comics from time to time and from what she had learned of Daniel from the letters he occasionally sent her he wrote some comics for a small comic company he had been putting together. He was still not very good at the artwork, but wrote well, from what he had said.
So, Samael in tow, Sandra headed to a gate one fine afternoon, her credit vouchers for 200,000 standard universal credits in her handbag, and made the trip to Televon.
‘So what are your dreams, Daniel? What are your dreams? Do you want to marry, to make a name for yourself, to see the universe and all its enchantments? To build an eternal legacy?’ Daniel Daly, sitting at the dinner table, sharing a meal with Sandra and Samael, thought that over. ‘You know, Sandy. I have had my full of dreams, in a way. Building Haven Noahide Fellowship had been a big deal for a while. A very big deal. Being the founder for what then was a brand new Noahide world had meant a huge amount. But the work has been done now. And Haven continues to slowly grow universally. I mean, it really is like Jesus said. Like what he taught his apostles without holding anything back.’ ‘And what is that?’ asked Sandra interested. ‘Sow the seed. Sow the word of God. But, like Jesus did, to really become famous in the end, if that is what your innermost heart really desires, leave a legacy of being a child of God. And in a way that is what Haven was all about.’ ‘What do you mean exactly?’ asked Sandra, most curious. ‘Well, of course it was all about the Noahide faith. When I left the church I had been a strong evangelist and wanted to continue to spread God’s word. Being Jewish didn’t seem that appealing and didn’t really seem the kind of religion you could evangelise to the man in the street. But Noahide faith looked practical and had its appeal. Telling people that they already were Noahides seemed quite feasible. And it slowly took off and now, today, I have a still growing legacy. Even now people occasionally come to seek me out as the founder of Haven just to meet me and gain my perspective on things. And I guess that is what I wanted. Somehow, seeing what Jesus did to build the church seemed like the obvious way to also proceed. Spread the word and build an assembly. And even the Jews say Abraham initially did similar things.’ Sandra nodded, gaining somewhat more of an understanding into the life of Daniel. ‘And is that what you really want, then? An enduring legacy?’ ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ She looked at him, considering that, and took another bite of toast. Samael spoke up. ‘You might not know, but I am yet to go down and taste my time on earth. But father tells me it will be soon. But what you speak of, building a legacy, it sounds very interesting.’ ‘It is mostly for the sake of a neverending list of friends and people to do things with,’ replied Daniel. ‘I mean, God knows we all need friendships. All of us need that. And some crave it more than others. But some of us even want a bit of fame as well as friendships. And perhaps God likes to answer the desires of our hearts. Perhaps that is all it is.’ Sandra nodded. That much seemed understandable at least. ‘Well, how many visitors do you get then?’ ‘Oh, a few. Really, I usually tell people I am not available but, if they want, I can put them on a waiting list to see them. But I tell them it could take a while.’ Sandra smiled. ‘Jesus has that problem. Apparently you have to wait millions of years these days just to spend an afternoon with him.’ Daniel laughed. ‘You know, I think that problem is only going to get worse and worse. Perhaps inevitably so for that character.’ Sandra and Samael both smiled at that point. ‘You could be right,’ said Sandra.
The three of them chatted on for a few hours that morning before Daniel said he had an appointment and would see them again later on in the day. Sitting there with Samael, watching some Televeran television, she thought on some of the things Daniel had said. Certainly she understood the desire for fame. Perhaps that was just a human instinct in some ways. But it was a most different way to go about it, building a religious assembly. But perhaps that was just Daniel. And perhaps it was just the kind of people he wanted to attract to himself. Perhaps that was just all it was.
Well, what dreams did she have? What dreams did Sandra of the Cherubim really have? She was back home in Mitraphora, at work, thinking that over. Certainly, like the Seraphim, being the 29th born of the Cherubim, next in rank after the 70 Seraphim, meant that she likewise had a fair degree of universal fame. A lot of humans out in that universe knew of her – knew who she was. She knew that, in truth, she was quite famous. But they were rarely allowed to visit the Realm of Eternity and usually they wanted to meet Ambriel or Michael or some other elder of the community. But she knew she had fame, especially in the way she was treated by many Televeran’s, who had known who she was. Her face, it appeared, was quite well known out there. Out there beyond the comfortable shell of the Realm of Eternity. It was surprising, really, and made Sandra think this. What should she do? What should she do with the opportunities available to her with her fame? What dreams should she let come to life? It was a most interesting question. After thinking this for a number of weeks she decided to go visit Ambriel to see if he might have something useful to say. Fortunately she would probably not have too much difficulty meeting him when she wanted. She knew, like Jesus, he gave a few days over to his appointments, or waiting lists for want of a better word. But after that they had all the time with their own regular families. And Sandra was very important to Ambriel, so he continued to tell her.
‘Dreams. I think, Sandy, it is not so much what we can dream for ourselves, but that which the infinite one can dream for us. If you place your heart and trust into the goodness of God he can give you dreams beyond even your wildest. If you will only trust in his unlimited grace, that is.’ Sandra nodded. As ever Ambriel had glorified God and given her the insight she knew she needed. ‘And how do we find these dreams, Ambriel?’ ‘Let them find you. They will, in time. It is true for every soul ever born and every soul to ever be born. They find their dreams when they need to. It is just a matter of time.’ Again she nodded. It was as if this was wisdom – eternal wisdom – wisdom from a soul who had given long contemplation to such subjects. She thanked him and the finished their lunch before Ambriel excused himself.
On the trip back to her home in Mitraphora Sandra gave much thought to Ambriel’s words. Perhaps she just needed to wait. To just wait and let her dreams happen when they should. But how would she know when a dream came along. And what if she missed her opportunities. Still, she had to trust. She knew Ambriel was right. She had to trust and assume, when things fell into place, her dreams would sneak up on her and tell of the glory she perhaps wanted.
She looked at the script. It seemed easy enough, memorising these words. Perhaps she should indeed take the part. Perhaps she should. Really, it had been a surprise. A community from Televon had written to her asking if she would like to take part in a movie about some of the angels. The angels were very difficult to reach, but they were loved. And Televere had written to a number of Seraphim and Cherubim asking if they were interested. She eventually found out, a few weeks later, that about 20 Seraphim and 10 Cherubim had been asked if they would like to star in the movie. It appeared she had been one of the lucky Cherubim. And so, deciding that this might be just the opportunity she had been waiting for, Sandra accepted the part. What it would bring only God knew, but it was something. A start, perhaps. A start at the glory she had felt she wanted. And thinking of what dreams could come, Sandra was a happy little angel of God. A happy little star.
* * * * *
* * * * *
And as instantly two became one, one became two and Logos, in a moment in time, found himself seated in his room in the tower of Infinity and Jesus found himself on a grass plain in Terraphora, not to far from a keep. For the sundering had just taken place, the returning of the two beings to their own planes of existence, for the purposes of the Logos and the 21st Cherubim Angel of Eternity had come to be and were no longer needed.
The Celestyel Angel Aphrayel
‘His name is Benjamin.’ Aphrayel, having been introduced by Logos to her long awaited twin, shook Benjamin’s hand. He smiled at her quite formally. Very traditionally, it seemed. ‘So, Benjamin,’ she began. ‘What do you like to do?’ but she caught herself. ‘Sorry, I mean, forgive me. I mean, how would you know what you like to do? You are only a few hours old.’ Aphrayel was nervous, and it showed. Her newborn twin stood in front of her, looking quite attractive in his trousers and shirt, with his long brown hair and good features. He smiled at her. ‘It’s ok Aphrayel. Really. Besides I am as old as yourself in many ways. I have lived that long in the loins of God.’ ‘And what is that like exactly?’ asked Aphrayel. ‘Don’t you remember?’ he asked, in a way which intimated that she perhaps should. ‘No, Ben. Not at all.’ He smiled. ‘Well that doesn’t matter. I am here now and we can get to know each other. Become friends, hopefully.’ ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ responded Aphrayel.
Samael looked at the two of them getting to know each other. He was not really sure what he should say. Almost as if he should say ‘That is my girl, you know. Go get your own.’ And in truth they had been close again for the last 8 years especially. It had started as a reaction against his own twin, Rhaemliel, who he barely had time for. It seemed, all of a sudden, confronted with the reality of choice, his heart craved the familiar. The longstanding relationship between himself and his lover Aphrayel. And he had snubbed Rhaemliel, clinging to his Celestyel sister, making sure she knew how special she was to him. But now there was her twin. Now there was Benjamin. ‘Hello Ben,’ said Samael offering his hand, deciding to try and make the best of the situation. I am your older brother Samael. Ben smiled warmly at Samael, offering his hand as well, and spoke. ‘I know you, Samael. I dream of you often.’ ‘You dream?’ he asked. ‘Well, sort of. But that is what the heart of God is like in a way. Dreams and illusions. Patterns of reality which come and go, never really being concrete like this world, but alluding to it. Always making you aware of what is to come.’ ‘How do you speak so well?’ asked Samael, curious as to the angel’s strong grip on his language. Benjamin looked over to Logos, who spoke up for him. ‘I guess you don’t really remember, do you Sam. But you spoke vibrantly in your first few years. It was a language we inherited, in a sense. Almost as if it was spoken instinctively. Ben understands much of this realm already, as if by instinct. And his dreams have been with him for thousands of years now. In a way he already knows us quite well.’ Samael nodded, acknowledging Logos information. It did actually sound right, from memory.’
‘Have a swig of this,’ said Sandalphon, handing Benjamin a glass of Scotch. ‘It will put hairs on your chest.’ Aphrayel looked alarmed. ‘Sandy, no! Don’t bloody give him scotch. He is barely 1 day old.’ Sandalphon grinned a little. ‘Better to get it into the little tykes when they are young. They grow up so bloody soft otherwise.’ Samael smiled at that comment. A typical observation from Sandalphon on human culture. But, funnily enough, Benjamin reached out his hand, took the scotch and, too Aphrayel’s amazement, swigged it in one mouthful. ‘Huuurrr,’ he exhaled. ‘That was good Sandalphon. The burning in the throat. Whoa. Feels wonderful.’ Sandalphon grinned. ‘Look at what you have gone and bloody done,’ said Aphrayel. ‘You have got him addicted already. ‘Welcome to the club then,’ replied Sandalphon. ‘Better sooner than later.’ Aphrayel stared daggers at Sandalphon and took Benjamin aside, grabbing the glass from his hand. ‘Now, Ben,’ she began. ‘Don’t go getting yourself caught up with the likes of Sandalphon, you hear me. God knows I love him, but there are far better examples of angels than the likes of he,’ she said, staring at Sandalphon through slanted eyes. He just smiled back, pretending to not care.
Benjamin spoke up. ‘Well, it has been good meeting you all. But, gosh. I am very tired.’ He turned to Logos. ‘You said there were living quarters for me?’ ‘Yes. Yes of course,’ responded Logos. ‘The outer towers. Come on, I will show you the way.’ Aphrayel gave him a little wave as he left the room and Sandalphon and Samael just stared as their newest brother left.
Standing there, staring at the now empty doorway, she could feel eyes on her back. She turned to look at them both, grinning slightly. Sandalphon spoke. ‘Well, have you got plans for him. Is he going to be the one, huh?’ ‘Sandy,’ said Aphrayel with a slight whine in her voice. ‘Don’t ask me that. You should know, ok. You should know.’ ‘Know what,’ said Samael. And she turned to look at him. ‘That I only have eyes for you, Callodyn Bradlock. That I only have eyes for you.’ Samael nodded and as an afterthought said ‘Good. Well, yeah. That is right. And me you, ok. And me you.’ ‘I should hope so,’ she responded.
They chatted on that afternoon, engaged in their usual affairs of life. But that night Aphrayel thought on Benjamin. She thought on the twin who had now, finally, come into her life. And she thought that, in the way he seemed like the total gentleman, God had chosen wisely for herself. Just what would eventuate in the next few weeks, though. Well that was definitely something worth finding out. It was definitely that.
Ben looked at the fish which Samael had reeled in from the Rageeta Garden Pond. ‘And what do you do with that, exactly?’ asked Benjamin, staring at the fish. Samael smiled. ‘We eat it, Ben. And they taste good.’ ‘We eat it?’ he asked, slightly alarmed. ‘But it is alive?’ ‘Hey, it’s only a bloody fish,’ commented Sandalphon. ‘Besides, God made them for food. Apart from entertainment purposes.’ Ben still looked at the fish slightly alarmed, but seemed to have conceded the point. Aphrayel spoke up. ‘There are lots of animals in our Realm now, Ben. We don’t actually eat all of them, ok. But we do eat a number and as Samael said they do taste good.’ ‘Very strange,’ responded Benjamin. ‘Eating a living animal.’ Samael spoke up. ‘They have less intelligence, and apparently no soul from what Logos maintains. They are not spiritually alive but creatures of small thought and basic instinct. And they never live forever anyway.’ Ben nodded. ‘Well ok. If that is the way it is.’ ‘Yes that is the way it is,’ responded Samael. ‘Now come on. Get stuck in with the rod I gave you. We want to catch half a dozen or so for lunch. A fry-up today sounds ideal.’ Aphrayel showed Ben how to use the rod and shortly he was fishing, nervously, like Samael.
Once they had caught 7 fish Samael signalled that that would be enough and they headed off. They placed the rods in a shed near the northern towers were such items were kept and headed for the lunch hall. Logos was busily at work preparing lunch that day as it was his turn on the roster. He spied the fish, though, and got excited. ‘Only 7?’ ‘You can always do your magic tricks,’ replied Samael. ‘If you want an abundance of them, that is.’ Logos smiled. ‘Not today, Sammy. But leave me one, ok. It will go well with the lasagne as a side dish.’ Samael and the others looked at the oven. Inside were 7 large dishes of lasagne, the meals for those Onaphim who were still with them.’ ‘Looks great,’ said Samael. Logos nodded and went back to his work. Samael turned to Aphrayel. ‘Do you want to show Benjamin what to do with the fish?’ Aphrayel nodded and took the fish from Samael and motioned for Ben to watch her. She took a knife and started skinning the fish. Then she cut their heads off and, finally, slicing down the centre from the spine carefully removed the bones. ‘You have to be careful with the bones, Ben, to make sure you get them all. But the bones of these fish never really cause problems.’ Ben nodded, understanding his first lessons in cooking.
Eating the lasagne and fish, Aphrayel was seated with Samael on one side and Benjamin on the other. She offered him wine, which he accepted and sitting there, her lover on one side, her twin on the other, she was caught in two minds. She thought on Rhaemliel who Samael, although friendly towards, had consistently made no advances towards. And she knew then he had remained loyal to their relationship, placing Aphrayel above his own twin. He had honoured her – this much she knew. And because of that she had made a decision. She would treat Benjamin well – with love, respect and kindness. But she would remain faithful in her friendship with Samael. He had chosen her even above Rachael, so she would not forget his love.
They spent that afternoon out on the basketball court, taking turns in shooting hoops, introducing Benjamin to the game. Samael had a lot of skill at shooting hoops, now, after a number of centuries of occasional practice, but Sandalphon had not bothered. But Ben seemed to like the games they played and Aphrayel, after a while, wondered if the little trio of friendship which had evolved between herself, Samael and Sandalphon had a new friend in that of Benjamin. He was certainly very polite, got along well with them, and seemed to like them. And Samael, sensing that Aphrayel through body language and various words, was choosing him, was more accepting of Benjamin and seemed to like him. Perhaps this would be a good thing, Aphrayel thought to herself. Only time would tell.
She was slightly uncomfortable. But only slightly uncomfortable. Samael and herself were in her abode watching a movie on the television set, Sandalphon standing by the window looking out over the city, with Benjamin on the other couch watching the show. In a way she was embarrassed, sitting right next to Samael, lying against him, his arm around her shoulder. She was worried that Ben might feel left out. This thought had bothered her for the last half an hour while they were watching the movie, despite telling herself that Ben, from the looks of it, didn’t seem to mind. But still she had convictions.
It was then, with that on her mind, a knock came on the door. Aphrayel stood, walked to the door, opened it and found Logos and Rhaemliel standing there. ‘Care for company?’ asked Logos. ‘Sure, come in,’ responded Aphrayel. Logos came inside, went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of melit water, giving one to Rhaemliel. Rhaemliel thanked him and Logos then went over to chat with Sandalphon. But he was looking at Rhaemliel as if expecting something.
Aphrayel smiled at Rhaemliel and then returned to her seat with Samael, who resumed putting his arm around her. It was then a relationship began. A long lasting relationship. Rhaemliel, a little nervously, sat down next to Benjamin, who turned to look at her. She smiled at him, and he warmly smiled back. ‘Ben, isn’t it?’ asked Rhaemliel. ‘Yes. Benjamin. Aphrayel’s twin.’ ‘I am Rhaemliel. Samael’s twin. It is a pleasure to meet you.’ They chatted then, for the next 2 hours while the movie went through its drama and ended. And when the movie was over, they were still chatting, engrossed in their conversation with each other. Aphrayel, while pretending to watch the movie, had turned her head, but trying not to be noticed, often in the last 2 hours. Samael, though, had paid no interest. But after they had dinner, and Benjamin and Rhaemliel had left with each other, Aphrayel turned to Samael. ‘Well!’ she exclaimed. Samael, finishing off his glass of wine looked at her, feigning innocence. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘Come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice. They were practically all over each other.’ Samael smiled at Aphrayel. ‘Well personally I think Logos could have been a little more subtle, but such is life.’ ‘What?’ And Samael just grinned.
That night, Samael asleep beside her, Aphrayel considered his words. It had been planned. Quite obviously it had been planned by Logos. Bringing Benjamin and Rhaemliel together. As if to solve a romantic dilemma in a most unusual way. She really did not know if she was supposed to be jealous or not. Samael seemed totally unconcerned and, in a strange way, an awkward situation had now been resolved. And considering Samael’s words she wondered to herself just what Logos had been up to behind the scenes. Perhaps, in time, she would find out.
Over the next few months a relationship blossomed between Rhaemliel and Benjamin. In a strange way to Aphrayel it was as if they were destined to be with each other. Gradually Benjamin spent less and less time with the three of them and formed his own little clique with Rhaemliel and some of the other recent twin additions. But that was the way of life. People seemed to gravitate towards those which they connected to in the right way. To those which somehow offered them the most in a relationship.
It was later on in that year that Aphrayel found herself in conversation with Logos and then brought up the issue of her twin and what it was supposed to represent in the planning of God. ‘God is a deep thinker, Aphrayel. I guess, he knows the eternal future before us and what will ultimately work for the best for all of us. There is a mystery to the twin. A divine unfolding mystery. Life will teach us this mystery as we continue to walk in our eternal pathways before us. And we might not always know the reasons and rationales of the Almighty, but they are discerned and learned over time. Suffice to say that Benjamin will likely play an important role in your eternal future, as Rhaemliel will for Samael. That is the way of life. But what more I can say beyond that, well……. Well that is really in the hands of God to say, and not myself.’ Aphrayel nodded, consoled somewhat. Logos seemed to make sense. His words seemed to resonate with wisdom. And perhaps, in time, she herself would understand the point and the purpose of a twin. And perhaps, in time, gain an appreciation for the wisdom of her eternal father for bringing a twin into her life.
That night, preparing a private meal for herself and Samael, she was somewhat glad now. The steady relationship which had developed between herself and Sammy was now no longer really at threat. The twin thing had come along, been understood, and now no longer really caused a problem. And sitting there, whipping up some cream for the desert, she realized that she really did love Samael and that she was with the right angel in the end. But what the future held, well God only knew. And as she continued to prepare the nights meal she allowed the simple fact that an unknown and mysterious future had always been part of her life and to simply accept the days as they came and went. All things made sense in time. All things usually worked out for the best. And in that truth she had happy consolation.
The Seraphim Jembryel
The Nixian Agenda
...................In the years following the millennium and the new era, mankind had settled down. The Children of Destiny ruled with wisdom, the Children of Destiny ruled with truth. But, in time, the Children of Destiny died, and returned to the Realm of Infinity, the Realm of Eternity, and the New Heavenly planets. And mankind was at the beginning of the space era - were the galaxy was about to open up, and they were to discover they were not alone. Stellar One was born in this time, the Interplanetary solar system, by which it was known, and on farflung Nix and Hydra, moons of Pluto, contention was common. The Grand Chancellor of the Stellar One community, based in New York, was the official sovereign over Stellar One, based on the Stellar One Council, a body which had risen from the earlier United Nations organisation, its foundation stone. Technically it taught the faith in its official dogma and instruments, the faith of the Everlasting Kingdom established by the Children of Destiny, but not all believed. And, as the faith waned somewhat, for history can slowly be forgotten as time passes by, faith was questioned again, and conspiracy theory abounded from various sources about whether those tales of the birth of the Everlasting Kingdom were really true. Wasn't it a fabrication of the Monotheists? Israel kept the faith, and so did the Church. Islam kept the faith but, soon enough, returned to its old ways. The Taliban emerged again - some things never die - and Al Qaeda got back to its old plots. And Islamic State was reborn, moving quickly, and building a caliphate in its old territories. Strife was present again. A descendant of Jonathon Kolby, Margaret Kolby, sister to Alastair Kolby, an Australian resident, took her fortunes to America, and married a certain Alexander Connor. And they had a child, John. And a daughter, Sarah. John got involved with science and robotics, and ended up working for the Marines as a Robotic Engineer. And from the fruit of his passions was born a new agenda in the war with the Islamic State Caliphate. Cyborg Q.
‘Of course, everyone knows Hydran’s can’t be trusted. Those fowl snakes have always thought themselves superior to us, especially on the sporting field. But a day of Judgement has come, I tell you. We live in a new era, in this stellar civilization. The old ways time and time again have failed. Everyone knows that. Pluto and Charon never act in our best interests and rarely present our claims to the stellar council. So I urge you, fellow Nixians, join the revolution. Join the ‘Way of Darkness’ and we will ultimately conquer our foes. Remember, united we stand, divided we fall.’
The speaker, Roge Jembray, got down from his soapbox after another afternoon on his usual crusade and started handing out flyers to the crowd which had gathered. About 50 metres away a parked cruiser ignited its engine and took to the skies. As the cruiser headed back to its hotel destination, the two men on board in the back seat felt satisfied. They had seen enough. They had seen firsthand the growing revolutionary feeling on Nix, one of the moons of Pluto & Charon, and would take this news back to their Hydran politicians. Conflict was coming – that much was certain. And Nix and Hydra were about to face a most decisive of encounters.
‘So how did it go today, Roge?’
‘Oh, the usual turnout, Julessa. I did sign on 20 or so new recruits, which gives us the number we were looking for. We have 10,000 now. 10,000 souls willing to put their life on the line for the future of Nix and our place in the system.’
‘And if it leads to war, Roge? What then?’
‘Then some will live and some will die, Julessa. But freedom always has a price. Mankind has always known that truth.’ Julessa Jembray nodded at her husband’s words. They were in truth familiar.
‘Will you be at the meeting tonight, or have you changed your mind and agreed to spend the night with me and mother and father to celebrate their wedding anniversary?’
‘You know I would love to, J. But you know how important the meetings are. I can’t miss them. Not for anything.’
‘Yes, I know. I was only hoping.’
Roge, having been greeted by his wife after returning from his preaching, got up from the kitchen table and walked into the living room to turn on the holoviewer. He switched the channel to Nix’s main news channel. The usual mix of politics and other events. As he sat there, relaxing, he thought on his struggle – his struggle for the future of Nix, one of the furthest moons from old Earth, right out near the edge of the system. It was 400 years now since colonisation, and completely settled. Solar magnifiers gave them the heat and the electricity they needed and they had ample water taken from one of the ice rings of Saturn. Nix homed a billion people or thereabouts. The whole surface of the moon was covered and sublevels went down near to the moons core – it was its own new world. And now that it had a growing culture and identity it was proud of itself, and Nixians wanted more. Roge knew that. They wanted to impress themselves upon the system and, as far as Roge Jembray was concerned, in a way that would not be forgotten.
The man in black examined the picture. ‘So this is Jembray?’ The agent in front of him nodded. ‘Mmm. He doesn’t look that dangerous. But better to be safe than sorry. Agent 8X, you are authorised to use deadly force to deal with this radical. But please, obtain your weaponry on Nix. We want no leaks back to Hydra. Am I understood?’ Agent 8X coldly nodded. He understood, alright.
The meeting had gone well. Better than expected really, the latest in the long rally. They were ready now, the ‘Way of Darkness’, and the political stage was the next logical step. They had the 10,000 official members required for a political party and, despite Nix being long regarded as a left-wing haven, the radical right might just have a say in the affairs of Nix in the immediate future.
As he drove home that night in his cruiser Roge Jembray was excited. The party was to lodge its official application to become a political party tomorrow morning. It required the standard electronic application but new parties still had a degree of old fashioned paperwork to fill out as well as official hard copy documents needed to be sighted, which Roge had been working on for the last few weeks. He was the number two man in the ‘Way’, technically, but number one, old John Sinclair, was more of a figurehead from a ruling right wing party from earlier in the century. In all practical manners Roge ran the show. He was not sure just how far he would go, in the end, but he sensed a sentiment on Nix. People were fed up with the short straw this end of the system usually got in system resources. Nearly always the last on the handout cue. Of course, they were largely self-sufficient as a satellite body, but they still needed the rest of the system as no planet stood alone in the end. Roge had a plan. He wanted to ruffle Hydra’s feathers in some ways. Hydra was much like Nix, similar in size, the other major moon of Pluto/Charon. But Hydra had a long standing attitude of superiority against their Nixian neighbours, being older in settlement, and slightly larger in population. They were competitors on and off the field of sporting glory, but there was a growing feeling in Nix that if Nix could get one really good one up on Hydra, well the whole planet would feel better about itself. And that is the role Roge Jembray saw for himself. Being the right man at the right time for Nix, his beloved planet of birth.
Driving along he was oblivious to the cruiser which had just pulled up behind him. And as Roge Jembray neared his home agent 8X in the cruiser behind him readied himself for his assassination attempt.
The cruiser landed in the port of his home and he got out and stood looking at his house, a technical wonder in this era of Nixian history. He reached back down to the open cruiser door, picked up his GHT567 phaser which he carried for defensive reasons and heard a zapping sound just as he picked up the laser. Looking around he noticed a scorch mark on his house and turned quickly to see a figure in black hiding behind a cruiser just across the road, weapon pointed at him.
Roge reacted quickly. They had chosen the wrong guy to mess around with. He had served in Nixian security details and was an expert with his weapon. So much so that after an exchange of a dozen or so shots he landed the killing blow on his opponent.
Coming over he looked at the dead figure. All in black with and id badge reading 8X. That sounded familiar. Hydran special agents used that id system. He had read the action novels about them as a youngster. Hydra was after him now – that much was apparent. He would have to be even more cautious in the future. But this was a good thing. It meant he was being noticed. And if he was being noticed, it meant one other most important of things. He had power coming to him. And with that power he would change the history and future of Nix and the stellar system forever.
Gaining 14 seats out of the 5000 House of Representatives sitting members was a good start for Roge Jembray and the ‘Way of Darkness’. Both John Sinclair and himself were amongst the winning members and there was a sense in the party that this was just the beginning. Just the beginning. After he had survived the assassination attempt the news had been leaked that Hydra had been responsible and there was a growing undercurrent in Nix now, more so than ever. Nix wanted a piece of Hydra. They wanted to stand up to their older brother.
At the next election they increased to 158 seats and were officially a minor party in the House. They also gained 2 Senators. While previously they’d really only had voting power in the house of Reps, Senator’s carried a lot more weight. And Roge had foregone his seat in the house of Reps to take up one of the Senatorial positions for the party. Now he had a degree of power – real power. They were a far right party, but the right wing opposition occasionally had words with them and sought their support on voting issues from time to time. Roge now had some influence.
It was at this time Roge formed ‘Children of the Night’, a long planned part of his agenda. The ‘Children’ were special operatives of the party, which Roge worked hard to gain official power for, which had just been granted by a special sitting assembly. Even the left wing recognized some of the sentiments the ‘Way’ represented. The ‘Children’ were then given the resources to accomplish their objectives.
Nix had a long standing arrangement with Hydra on supply ships from the inner system, but when special operatives of the ‘Children’ amongst other key groups started abducting the robotic operated supply ships arriving from the inner system which were due for Hydra, Hydra eventually noticed. And hostilities began.
It started slow. Firstly official words from one President to another seeking clarification of the situation and the hope diplomacy would end the problem. But Nix remained insistent of their innocence, which both parties knew was not true. Nobody really expected war, in the end. Nix had a grudge, nothing more. And their agenda to gain revenge on their long rivals was seen just as that. And because of that, after the first official space conflict between Hydra and Nix in which a Hydran battle-cruiser was destroyed, the Hydran President decided that Hydran’s simply did not want war. They would wait this one out.
It was 4 years into the conflict that the inner system finally decided to act. A special council was convened on Earth, head planet of the stellar system. Representatives of Nix and Hydra were summoned and the Grand Chancellor spoke directly with Roge Jembray, Nix’s selected representative. It was an illuminating conversation and years later Roge Jembray had finally acknowledged the wisdom in the Chancellors words.
The Chancellor had said this to Roge, in private, at the seat of stellar harmony in New York. ‘Roge, we humans have a long history of conflict. Our history is rife with such a reality. Indeed, this represents human nature in so many ways. And while we often react to the oppression of others in hostility and hatred, as a civilization we have slowly learned the lessons that war and pride must give way to peace and forgiveness for the good of all of us. The ancient United Nations was a beacon in the early days of a united humanity, symbolizing the best in us to get along on a global scale. In those days there was so much racial and religious division that many despaired of ever finding universal peace. But we persevered as a people and, in the end, saw the light. Be it the creator’s grace, or just that funny thing called ‘love’ we eventually learned enough to know how to get along as a people and respect each other. And that, I think dear Roge, is what Nix and Hydra must learn. It is not unique, your situation. Civilizations have gone through such dilemmas many times before. So I urge you, dear Roge Jembray. Learn from them. Learn from their mistakes and successes and learn that getting along, being at peace, is always preferred to a life on the edge, in which safety has vanished. I am sure, in the end Roge Jembray, you will do the right thing.’
Later on that year the conflict between Nix and Hydra had largely died down. The council seemed to have resolved most of the issues that Nix in particular had. And Roge, as he continued in his political life, thought often on the wisdom of the Grand Chancellor and eventually nodded to himself that he had indeed spoken with a wise man. And, as the years past, and Nix and Hydra grew more into friends than rivals Roge Jembray acknowledged that there was wisdom in the way of peace. There was wisdom indeed.
The Wars of John Connor and Cyborg Q
'Cyborg Q is not an Advanced model. He simply is what he is - the best of current technology,' said the designer John Connor.
'And he is human?' asked the reporter. 'Beneath all that - metal?'
'What's left of one. He's a six million dollar man. Well, six billion, actually. He's a marine, fallen in battle, without parents or family. We talked to him near the end of his life and said the things we could do with cybertechnics these days could extend his time. He wouldn't be what he was, but life would go on. He didn't hesitate. Said go for it. The tumor in his brain was killing him, and what is left of that mind, well. Well he's no longer what he was. No longer who he was. We programmed him. Made him our best military weapon, a potential prototype of what may come. So, here he is.'
Cyborg Q walked into the room, saluted the small press corps, and said 'I am a servant of the flag of the United States of America. The Islamic State Caliphate will feel my wrath. Cold, hard, steel,' said the Cyborg, in a vaguely human, but mostly electronic voice.
'How deadly is he?' asked a reporter.
'Cyborg Q. Shoot the apple,' said John Connor. John tossed an apple in the air, and Cyborg Q instantly focused his eye, and a laser shot out and pulverized the apple, it landing in a mess on the floor.
'He can kill. He WILL kill,' said John.
'Does he eat?'
'He likes cat food,' said John. 'Just what he prefers. Basic protein.'
The reporters wrote notes, and soon the press conference of the Special Division Q of the Marine Corps was over.
'You'll see action soon enough,' said John to the Cyborg. It's red eyes simply glowed in response.
Cyborg Q 2
Cyborg Q was at rest. He was dreaming, and his power cells were being charged. Clouds floated in his mind, and a Muslim Warrior approached. It was another cyborg, bigger than himself.
'I am Cyborg X, infidel,' said the Cyborg, and drew forth a large scmitar. 'Some heavy shit is about to go down, yankee boy.'
And he woke, frightened.
'Stand at attention Cyborg Q,' said John Connor, coming into the room.
'Yes Sir, John Connor Sir, Sir,' said Cyborg Q, rising instantly to his feet. He stood there, and farted a quick blast.
John Connor waved away the smell from his face. 'Quite toxic stench there, Cyborg Q.'
'I changed my cat food,' replied the Cyborg.
'Fascinating,' said John. 'Your first mission has come up. You'll be joining Division Q Gamma Corps into Iraq. We have an opening just west of Baghdad. Babylon. There are opportunities for your work.'
'Islamic scum shall die,' said Cyborg Q.
'That's the spirit,' said John. 'You have one agenda. Accompany Gamma Corps into battle, and kill the bastards.'
'I shalt verily kill the bastards,' replied Cyborg Q.
'Have you been reading that King James Version again?' asked John.
'Unit, Corps, God & Country,' replied the Cyborg.
'Whatever,' replied John. 'You leave in the morning.'
'Yes sir, John Connor Sir, Sir,' replied the Cyborg.
'Just John,' said John.
'Yes Sir John, Sir,' said the Cyborg.
'Return to your sleep,' said John. 'You'll need it.'
The Cyborg slept again. And dreamed again.
'I shall lick your blood from your decapitated armpit,' said Cyborg X.
'Die Muslim Scum,' said Cyborg Q. But he was frightened.
Cyborg Q 3
'Shall we send in the Cyborg, Attilla?' asked the ISIS fighter, Abdul.
Attilla the Killer, as he was known, Lord of Babylon, recently under fire from his superiors for a breach in Babylon's defences, looked at the section of the city which had become a stronghold for the western troops.
'Abdul. A war is not won in the first battle,' replied Attilla.
'We have had 700 mutherfuckin battles for this damn city. Time to send in the frikkin Cyborg,' said Abdul.
'Patience - mutherfucka - replied Attilla. You shall taste American blood soon enough.'
In the eastern section of Babylon, John Connor looked out through binoculars. 'They're not using missiles much,' he said.
'They value the city,' said Sergeant Smith. 'They rarely use them here. It is revered to them.'
'Rumor is they have a wasp or something. Aren't they illegal in warfare?'
'I doubt ISIS cares about the legalities of warfare very much,' replied the sergeant. Besides. It's not a Wasp. It's human. Armoured, but human. Built into its body.'
'A cyborg?' queried John, surprised.
'Cyborg X,' replied the marine.
'For fuck's sake,' replied John.
Shots rang out from time to time, snipers taking aim, but the American shielding was strong. It was a battle were every inch was gained with precision and care.
'How tough is he, then?' asked the sergeant. 'Can you just send him in? Can he take it?'
John considered the scenario. 'He has knowledge. Of old battles. They are still in there. The armour - they won't penetrate easily. Ok.'
A little later, armed with a GHT X400, Cyborg X appeared on the streets in front of the American sanctuary. He strolled in for a bit, but no shots were being fired.
'It's a frikkin cyborg,' said Abdul.
'I know it's a frikkin cyborg,' responded Attilla. He picked up his radio mic and spoke. 'Send in X. Let's see what this pretty boy is made of.'
Cyborg X appeared, and slowly approached Cyborg Q. He took out a large metal Scimitar, and snarled at his adversary.
'Come to play, have we Yankee boy?
Cyborg Q kneeled, put his rifle by his side, and focused his laser eye. He connected with the crotch of Cyborg X, who stood there for a moment, taking the pain, before a wave energy shield sprung up, protecting his crotch.
'Hot Cock?' asked Cyborg Q.
Cyborg X just nodded his head knowingly. 'The Christian has a sense of humor. Good. Killing you will give me a good laugh.' Cyborg X manouvered slowly to his right. He knelt likewise, and took out a dagger, flicking it quicker than you could blink at Cyborg Q. It sliced through a small section of skin on his exposed wrist. Cyborg Q shook his wrist a little.
'He likes the old ways,' said Cyborg Q. 'Fine.' He laid his rifle down, and spoke to Cyborg X. 'I have dismantled my laser, and dismantled my shield defences.'
Cyborg X nodded. 'The Yankee has balls. My dog will enjoy eating them. He approached slowly, and stood face to face with Cyborg Q, glaring into his eyes. Cyborg Q glared back with equal hostility. Then he stood back a bit, and hit Cyborg Q in the gut. Cyborg Q grunted.
'Cunt,' he said to Cyborg X. He caught his breath, and grabbed at Cyborg X's hair, and ripped out a few pieces.
And then they got serious.
The fighting was raw, uncivilized, and when, Cyborg X was exhausted, and was held down, Cyborg Q reached for his Scimitar, raised it high, and struck down with might, severing Cyborg X's arm at the shoulder. The scream of pain was intense. Cyborg Q stood back, watching, as Cyborg X gingerly got to his feet, and turned, and walked away. But he turned back, looked at Cyborg Q, and murmurred 'Humph'. Then he retreated back to his enclave. Cyborg Q picked up the scimitar, his trophy, and returned to base.
Later, John Connor was going over the repairs in his creation, and looked right at Cyborg Q.
'I don't think we have seen the last of that guy?'
'I'm counting on it,' replied the advanced military robotic warrior.
Cyborg Q 4
Alastair Kolby was an Austrlian resident, living in Kambah in Tuggeranong, Canberra, in Australia. His sister, Margaret, had left to America, and married an Alexander Connor, who's son, John, was currently standing next to Alastair in Mt Stromlo observatory, on the western edge of Canberra.
'Look,' said Alastair.
John looked through the telescope.
'Do you see it?' asked Alastair.
'Yes. Clearly enough. It's an asteroid, or something. A weird shape, though. Symmetrical.'
'We've blown up the image. Over here,' said Alastair.
John followed him to a workstation, Cyborg Q hovering by John's side, and looked at photographs of the apparent asteroid, magnified.
'No, no that's not possible. We don't have anything that far out in space,' said John.
'No we don't,' replied Alastair. 'And that's the point. We're not alone. That, my dear friend, is an alien space station.'
John looked at the image, again, closely. It was clearly a design of sorts, the shape of the image was obvious. It was no natural phenomenon.
'Have you reported this?' asked John.
'Nasa has been informed. A few others. Our government knows. Apparently a deep space probe is being organised. It's a long way out, but with current advances in technology, it should only take a few years to get there. It's aliens, Johh. Aliens.'
John looked at the image again. It was certainly something compelling.
Later, John was speaking with Cyborg Q.
'So, what do you think, Cyborg Q. Aliens? Do they exist?'
'If they bleed, we can kill them,' replied Cyborg Q.
'You are a marine,' replied John dryly. 'Well, in the morning we have a short visit to a local Canberra school. You will be on show as the latest addition to the fight against terrorism. Be on your best, ok.'
'I shalt verily be noble of heart,' replied the cyborg.
'Great. You do that,' said John.
'Sir Cyborg Q, sir. Why does Islam make war on us all the time? Why can't they let us be?' asked the Tuggeranong school kid of Primary age.
'I shalt quote the Scripture,' said the Cyborg. Regarding Abraham's firstborn. " And the angel of the Lord said unto her, Behold, thou art with child and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael; because the Lord hath heard thy affliction. And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren." Isaac, born later, was the child of Abraham upon whom the Kingdom of God was built. But the Lord also blessed Ishmael, and built nations from Abraham's firstborn. Yet, as scripture says, and as Islam practices time and again, he shall be a wild man, his hand against every man and every man's hand against him. Islamic State, Al Qaeda, the Taliban. All the extremists. They are inevitable. It is the word of God in action. It is the way of things,' said the Cyborg in his dry, computer-like voice.
The children of the Anglican school nattered on that idea with each other, and the teacher took control.
'Please thank Cyborg Q, our American Episcopalian cousin,' said the teacher.
'Thank you Cyborg Q,' the kids sang in unison.
Later, 'You did great,' said John. 'The scripture you quoted was - actually - appropriate.'
'The Lord's will be done,' said Cyborg Q.
'Amen,' replied John Connor.
Cyborg Q 5
It was a cold and blustery weekend, and John and Cyborg Q were back home, at the office, shooting the shit. John had been thinking recently about Cyborg Q and his motivation in battle. He fought hard, and was completely dedicated. Much of it was his programming, but there was an X Factor at work also. Something MORE than the computations of John's best alogorithms. He looked at the Cyborg as it was charing, and decided to query him on the matter. 'Who inspires you, Cyborg Q? You seem to have this motivation more than ordinary - men.'
The Cyborg looked at John, seemingly thinking over the question. 'Sergeant Daniel Joseph Daly born on November 11, 1873. He was a member of the United States Marine and one of only nineteen men, including seven Marines, to have received the Medal of Honor twice. Of the Marines who are double recipients, only Daly and Major General Smedley Butler received their Medals of Honor in two, separate conflicts. Daly is said to have yelled, "Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?" to the men in his company prior to charging the Germans during the Battle of Belleau Wood in World War I. Major General Butler described Daly as, "The fightin'est Marine I ever knew!" Daly reportedly was offered an officer's commission twice to which he responded that he would rather be, "...an outstanding sergeant than just another officer.' His motivation inspires me,' said Cyborg Q. 'It is the spirit of the marines. Live forever. Unit, Corps, God, Country. Mess with the marines and there will be - trouble,' said the Cyborg.
'Fascinating,' replied John. 'Was he any relation to Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly? The famous Noahide?'
'Not aware of any direct link,' replied the Cyborg. 'They were Daly clansmen, but I have no information connecting the two apart from that.'
'Right,' said John, and sighed. He went to the small office fridge, brought out a can of Coca Cola, opened it and started sipping.
'We have some heavy shit coming up, CQ,' said John. 'In Madagascar. There is a terrorist faction of Al Qaeda operating in the south, bombing places here and there. The Madagascan government has invited the US to intervene.'
'Muslim scum shall die,' said the Cyborg.
'Yeh. Die,' said John, now amused at the Cyborg's rhetoric on that issue. It was the Christian fundamentalism in him, he had concluded.
'So sleep tight, and we'll be off soon enough. Oh, and how about giving the scriptures a rest for a while. While I am sure Daniel Joseph Daly appreciates your zeal for eternity, it's starting to give me a headache. I am more of a rational thinker.'
'Science and Scripture are in perfect harmony,' replied the Cyborg.
'You bet,' said John, and excused himself, and went off to find some rest.
The Cyborg, whose power recharge was complete, disconnected the cords, and laid down on his rest station. But he though on John's words, and agreed to be less zealous in public. Some things, however true to someone, were not necessarily everyone else's cup of tea.
Cyborg Q 6
'The village has been scouted, and we have some heat readings that they have military equipment in there,' said the Madagascan army officer.
'We can send him in. Solo,' said John. 'I'm sure he can handle it.'
'There's a problem. The shape of one of the weapons. It looks like - well - a mini wasp.'
John stared at the officer. 'Nasty bastards Al Qaeda. I shouldn't be surprised. I'll advise caution to CQ. But we have little choice.'
Cyborg Q, approaching through the jungle, armed with is GHT rifle, spied the village ahead. He could here voices, shouts, some of them even in ancient Arabic, a language mostly dead in the world, as English had become the International tongue, but Muslim diehards occasionally used it. He focused his telescopic vision and spied guards on the outskirts of the camp. It was Al Qaeda all right. He was concerned - a little scared. If it was a wasp, sure he was Cyborg Q. But wasps were deadly, even small ones. He would have to be cautious.
He approached through the jungle, treading softly, which his programming allowed with precision, and crept up to the outskirts of the village. Taking aim he shot, the silencer keeping the bullets silent, and killed 3 of the guards. He got up, continued on, and came to the edge of a building. He peered around the corner, and there were a bunch of about a dozen terrorists in the centre of the village, busy with their weapons and drinking alcohol by the looks of it. Somewhat surprising for Muslims, but they were terrorists in the end. He spied a young lady, dressed in a red mini skirt, topless. He classified her in his programming as a civilian and would exercise caution.
'Time to kill,' he said to himself, and turned the corner, marching right into the action.
They spied him soon enough, grabbed their weapons, and started firing. His wave energy shielding sprang up, and the bullets which were accurate bounced off it. He took aim and shot after shot, he killed them, bullet to the head, deadly accuracy, one after one. Soon the camp was a scene of vicious bloodshed, and he was left alone. But then he heard a whirring sound, and turned. It was quick, and lunged right at him, and 7 of its titanium blades spliced out, attacking his metal exterior. Nasty bloody wasp, he thought to himself. It was shooting laser bolts as well from its central chest unit, but his wave energy deterred most of them. But the blades were a different matter. The wasp grasped him, and a drill from one of its arms came forth, and started hammering against his skull. He hated wasps. They were the nastiest of military hard core. He analysed it quickly, his programming feeding him data on the unit type, and found its weakness. A dark blade suddenly emerging from CQs arm, he plunged it into a certain section of the Wasps midrift, and sparks went off. The wasp suddenly fell quiet, and collapsed on the ground. He had destroyed its CPU.
'Die Yankee Scum,' yelled a voice. It was another fighter, who had engaged the Wasp, and he was aiming a handheld missile shooter at CQ. CQ, calmly, aiming his eye laser blaster, focused on the terrorists skull, initiated the bolt, and it sprang forth, contacting with the terrorist right eye, quickly penetrating his skull, and killing him. The missile had been fired before he died, but Cyborg Q effectively evaded it. He stood there a moment, and focused his bionic hearing unit. He listened, could detect no other noises, apart from the screaming woman, who had been cowering all the time.
'Cyborg Q to base,' said CQ, through his radio mic. 'Mission accomplished. Send in the clean up team.'
Later on John was handing a blanket to the Madagascan lady, who said she had been captured, and was from the village. The rest of the villagers had been killed when Al Qaeda had taken it hostage, but they had used her for their sexual pleasures.
'It's a dirty world, Cyborg Q,' said John to CQ.
'But somebody has to clean it up,' were the sarcastic words in response of Division Q's most lethal operative.
Cyborg Q 7
'Are you recharged?' asked Johh, coming into the office.
Cyborg Q nodded.
'We're off then.'
'Where?' asked the Cyborg.
'Nix,' replied John.
'Planet Nix? Moon of Pluto?' queried the Cyborg.
'Exactly,' replied John. 'There is an observatory there, a deep space one, were there is less interference from the light of the sun and we get a better picture of deep space. I've been chatting with Nasa about Alastair's discoveries, and I've been asked to go up there and investigate things a bit. The Pentagon wants you to accompany me, as there is some trouble at the moment. The Grand Chancellor has settled some of the disputes between the Nixian's and their long time nemeses, the Hydran's, but rogue groups are at work, causing tension between the two. They have never liked each other very much. Your coming for my protection, mainly, but you have been judged, after the Madagascan incident, an effective tool against terrorism and espionage. You have the qualities they want, so we're headed for space.'
'Space it is,' replied the Cyborg, staring at John with those cold, impenetrable, eyes.
The trip took a while, but travel in Stellar One, as was coined the term of the Interplanetary Solar System of humanity, was becoming more advanced every year. Soon enough they had arrived on Nix, and were greeted by the politican 'Roge Jembray.'
'Nix is pleased to have you,' said Roge to John, looking at the Cyborg. 'He seems pretty lethal. Cyborg or robot?'
'Cyborg,' replied John. 'There is a human beneath all of that. What is left of one.'
'Fascinating,' said Roge.
They stayed the night at a military compound, and in the morning were taken to Nix's deep space observatory. A man in white greeted him, and showed him to the telescope.
'We have your specifications,' said the scientist. 'This is what we have. Take a look.'
John peered through the telescope, and was surprised. The picture was much clearer, and larger. It was a space station, no doubt. And there appeared to be lights lit up all over it.
'These are the photographs we have blown up,' said the scientist. 'Its about a dozen light years away, so the history of it is a dozen years old. Takes the light that long to reach us, naturally.'
'Neither here nor there,' replied John, looking at the snaps.
'We have some kids, here on Nix,' said the scientist. 'The Stargazers, as they have coined the term. They have a club which started a few months ago, and dreams of travelling outwards and finding other worlds. This news is very big on Nix at the moment. It's all over the media.'
'Not surprising. Alien life confirmed at last. Why wouldn't it be big?'
'What do they say about it on earth?' asked the scientist.
'Not much. Not yet. I sort of represent preliminary investigations on the issue.'
'Well, its real enough,' said the Scientist. 'The question is - what do we do about it?'
'That is indeed the question,' replied John, looking at the photographs.
A few days later they were again in Roge Jembray's company. 'I'm glad you are happy with what you came to find out. Now, as I understand it, Cyborg Q here has been sent to Nix, in particular, as a peacekeeper in our conflict with Hydra. We have always maintained we have mostly been in the right in our age long conflict.'
'We're impartial representatives,' replied John. 'But we're not naive. We do get reports.'
'The have an Agent X series of rogue assassins which cause us a lot of trouble,' said Roge. 'I killed one, once. He was trying to kill me. Agent 8X. If your Cyborg needs to know anything, it is dealing with Hydra's X Agents. They are normally cold blooded killers.'
'Agent X shall die, Hydran scum,' said Cyborg Q coldly. 'I'm no longer fond of X's,' said the Cyborg. 'Not fond at all.'
'Was that a joke?' asked John, chuckling on the Cyborg's words.
The Cyborg, wisely, did not reply.
'We appreciate you being here,' said Roge. 'How long can you stay?'
'Unspecified,' said John. 'Until the current problems are dealt with sufficiently.'
'Then welcome to Nix,' said Roge Jembray once more.
'Glad to be here,' replied John, considering the world of conflict he was about to become involved with.
The stranger looked up at the tower. Paramount tower, highest tower in the Realm of Eternity so far, 666 stories of Satan’s most vicious pride.
‘A Babelite indeed,’ he chuckled to himself. He was careful now. Very careful. 700 solid years of spiritual ministry under Rabbi Rosenberg on New Terra had taught him many things, but mostly to beware the power of evil. For, as the Rabbi would say, if your heart truly succumbs to the power of darkness and lets it go were it will, then God himself will forsake your salvation and allow you to taste the hallways of death which your pride thusly desires. And the Rabbi had reminded him again and again that no other power was known of as damnable in persuasive ability than the old devil, Satan himself. The stranger was aware of this. Intimately aware, and his agenda was now sure. The Rabbi had talked for a long time about the death penalty in the Torah of Israel and how the Angels seemed to be exempt from such a reality, subject to the Torah of heaven. But after many careful and private conversations, with careful words of prayer to Hashem to ensure his tacit acceptance, if not approval, the plan was hatched. One day, said the Rabbi, Satan would again act in his pride and rage, and in the power he would achieve, threaten the very foundation of human society through the spiritual universe. ‘We must act decisively, and now,’ the Rabbi spoke to him. ‘We must slaughter this beast and ensure our own survival. For if we do not it will be a dark end to all of us, and of that I am completely certain.’ And so the stranger finally agreed, despite the heart within him, a heart of love telling him to think otherwise, and plotted out his first assassination attempt. He knew he could never tell Meludiel, his twin. He knew that. Some secrets were meant to last for all eternity. But a time of testing had come for the stranger. A time of testing for Ambriel, son of God. If he were to be the man he needed to be, Satan, the dark lord of evil, would have to succumb to his wrath and taste the bittermost death so many for so long had wished upon him but not had the strength of courage or will to dare attain.
* * * * *
Satan looked at the picture on his desk in front of him, sitting in his office atop Paramount tower in the Realm of Eternity, nestled near Terraphon keep. He looked at Gemrayel, his heart sighing. It was not really as if he could repent. Such an idea had vanished from his nature upon his fall. Who did that imbecile most high God really think he was to try and instruct Satan on ideas of religious ruling. Satan knew no authority, and would never respect any. Of course, he knew to fear God, but that was only because he knew the power, ability and wrath of God his father. God could get you at any time if he wanted to and his power was unavoidable. But he knew God to live by a sense of personal morality and if whenever he told God to Fugg himself and leave him the hell alone he always noted God withdrew according to Satan’s wishes. These days, it seemed, God had an inability to get mad at his son, something which Satan did not really understand. But, thinking about it for many years now, he knew it to do with his lack or real practice of evil for a long time. Satan, while never ever regretting his ways, had seemingly, as he noticed himself, toned down his nature. But he did not care for he sensed this to be naturally occurring. Almost as if he were getting along simply out of personal desire, which was a paramount thought of his own. Absolute freedom, his hearts love, said do what you will. But this old devil had grown a little softer now, so many millennia having passed, and found it strange that he got along a little better with those who had once been his sworn enemies. But he was Satan, still, and looking at Gemrayel he still grinned a little at the rape he had once accomplished. But his heart sighed for, not really knowing why, he longed to see her again so long she had sworn to stay away from him. He had seen Aphrayel a century ago and almost felt obligated to be a little polite, such had been his desire to rekindle his acquaintance. But that had not gone too well as he had insulted her after a while, and she had left frustrated. And now, in recent times, introspective thoughts. Thoughts on God’s actual views on morality itself and a simple thing God had said to him. A simple thing which he was at odds with because it actually seemed to make sense in reflection. The simple thing was that a moral life worked the best as you ended up getting along the best with everyone else to your own personal sense of satisfaction. Of course he had laughed at God as he had suggested that absurdity, but in quiet reflection he almost dared his heart to say that, well, yes, there seemed to be some truth to that idea. Yet, nevertheless, he was Satan, and he had a reputation to maintain, and therefore such fantasies of being a nice guy were left to the vain and trivial desires of his Almighty father.
* * * * *
The wound hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot. And despite thinking he would probably die, in the recovery ward of the hospital, Satan starting to feel just a tiny bit better, the doctor ensuring him he would not in fact die as the bullet had just missed his spine, Satan knew that something had just happened on a spiritual level. A punishment had been inflicted. An age long punishment for an age long sin. And laying there, the spirit reminding him of his rape of Gemrayel, he now understood that God really did have a long memory and could wait a hell of a long time to punish someone. But, laying there, wincing often, the pain quite high, there was a strange sense of relief. A strange sense that, almost, something foreboding had been lifted from his shoulders. Some great and dreadful foreboding punishment had been removed, and that with this injury and seeming a few more occurrences of great anxiety over the next few years, a few years of dark times for the lord of evil, a penalty of a lifetime of darkness would be atoned for. And lying there, feeling strangely a little more positive about everything in life, his mind turned back all those millennia ago to a time, just a little before he chose the dark magic, a time in his room when he questioned wether such a choice was really for the best for his future. And thinking on that very idea he suddenly, despite noting his own internal sense of hypocrisy, felt that, just perhaps, he had made the wrong decision after all. But he banished that thought after a few moments, turning to other things and wincing on his pain, but still, nevertheless, feeling a little better about his lot in life and a little happier with things in general.
* * * * *
As he watched the GHT rifle melt away in the furnace, Ambriel reflected on his final moment. No, he couldn’t do it. No matter what else, he just couldn’t make the kill. But his vengeance rose, and he knew exactly were to place the bullet for maximum pain, but no permanent damage. And, his pride intact, his vengeance largely satiated, he watched as the rifle melted away, thoughts of vengeance and death thankfully dissolving away, along with the lethal GHT.
Saruviel – The Quick and the Dead
Saruviel examined the bullet wound. His mind analyzed quickly, countless spiritual neurons making connections with the data. The bullet was from a GHT 459. One of the deadlier types of rifles. His murderer was an expert. Only experts used that rifle. Only experts enjoyed its subtle killing power.
Seven dead, now. Seven dead in a week, and still no clues as to whom. Televon Police suggested that it was likely the man in black himself. The old devil who had started up his business again. But Saruviel couldn’t picture Satan doing this. Not this time. He knew Satan now lived down in Paradision on Androma. Very close to Daly. Very close to him. They had become friends and the ‘Chronicler’ had talked to Satan about repentance. He had talked to him more seriously than most ever tried to bother doing, and Satan had felt grateful for this. Which was why he trusted Daly somewhat, living near him in the same city. Could this be the work of Satan? Could the old devil really be up to his old tricks?
The bullet was gone. The killer was not stupid – not stupid at all. Saruviel had spent the afternoon examining the crime scene, looking for clues. Every interaction from the killer with the crime scene left clues. The old Jack Dagger mysteries had taught him that well enough. But this killer left all clues absent. Totally absent. He or she was an expert – an expert of the highest caliber.
The latest victim, another of the royal house of Televon. Albert Rothchild, grandson of the king. 3 dead royals now and 4 dead senior politicians. And each untraceable, each using a different method of murder. This was the case of Saruviel’s life. He knew as much. 1,700 years in Homicide in the Zebulonian police force had trained him for this. Zebulon had never seen murders like this, of this brutality. Never. The other continents of Judea, Traxia and Androma had their fair taste of crime, certainly. Such was life. But Televon’s continent of Zebulon, home to the royal family and planetary governance seemed to have always been immune to most criminal activity. But not any more. Things had – changed. Could he crack the case? He hoped so. The hopes of Trillions were depending on him.
* * * * *
Seventeen weeks and Saruviel stood in the trees, looking at the shack. Stuck out in the nature parks wilderness, all the clues had lead him to this. He signaled the two other officers, and they slowly approached. Saruviel, treading carefully, made his way to the back of the shack. Suddenly two quick shots rang out and the officers cried in pain. ‘We’re down,’ yelled one of them. ‘Fugg!’ said Saruviel. The situation was tense.
He remembered something then which Kantriel had said to him. Had said to him about the slender grip life really had on people. ‘There are the quick and there are the dead, bro. The quick and the dead. Make sure you are not the latter.’
Saruviel knew the killer was expecting him. He knew it. So he would have to be the quick, now, and not the dead. His life perhaps depended on it. He carefully trod along the back way of the shack, gun raised, walking to the front. Carefully peering around the corner, he spied a rifle poking out the front door. The killer seemed to be looking at the shot officers. And then he made a quick connection – ‘the quick and the dead’. Instantly he turned around and went to the other side of the shack. He picked his aim, carefully gave the best of his measurement, and fired 7 quick shots into the wall of the shack. He heard a muffled yell and then silence. Complete silence.
This time he was less careful. This time he would be bold. He rushed the door, found the killer slumped, and turned him over. He was dead. He pulled the mask from off his face and looked at the killer. The one who had finally demanded One Trillion Universal credits to stop killing. Yes, it was a demon. An ancient demon. One of the fallen Oraphim of Infinity who had joined Satan. Daxran, a cold heartless bastard. Saruviel recognized his profile. But he was dead now. Dead and gone. Off to Sheol were so many of his fallen brothers and sisters now also remained. Dead and gone.
It had been a nightmare of a case, but it was over. And calling in the medics for the downed officers, Saruviel wiped the sweat from his forehead. Serving God was tough work. Bloody hard and life endangering work. But it was life, in the end. It was life. Do it God’s way, as Ambriel and Michael kept reminding him and, when all the pretenders have come and gone, you will be left standing. And that much was true to Seraphim Saruviel of the Realm of Eternity.
Daniel – At Arm’s Length
‘Just who the hell do you think you are Rothchild? Supercop?’ ‘Worse. I’m his brother.’ The Dragon Jandox spat in the face of Daniel Rothchild, the Seraphim Daniel, laughing all the time. ‘Take him away,’ said Daniel to the lieutenant in charge in the Bronx station on New York city on the planet New Terra.
Daniel sat in his office that afternoon, brooding. It had not really been a big deal to him when God had asked Michael to take on a cop’s job. That hadn’t bothered him personally. ‘Better him than me,’ Daniel had thought. And then God had asked both him and his brother David – Ambriel – to likewise take on the work. Daniel worked in the Bronx while David was uptown in New Jersey. And while David had gained the reputation of ‘Supercop’, it was Daniel who was generally more despised by the Dragon’s. They hated Daniel Rothchild – absolutely hated him. And knowing he was at the top of a number of hit lists didn’t make him sleep any better at night.
The war was going hard now. The new war with the Dragon’s. They had, once again, rebelled. But this time it was serious. Murder had been their tactic and as such, with a full on head of Israelite Torah, Saruviel and Michael had responded to the Dragon’s war. It was death, now. Complete death. The Dragon’s knew they would not survive this war if unvictorious. Both sides knew that. The death penalty as the ultimate act had been regrettably authorized by about 20 of the inner circle of planetary systems. But to curb the new scourge of the Dragon’s war they had little choice. It was the most viscious the Dragon’s had ever become, and people worried now. They worried about their lives and what could happen to their families. And so God had chosen the Seraphim and various Cherubim to deal with the issue. It was time for them to earn their money.
Daniel was not enjoying this war. 3 Seraphim of eternity had died. 3 of his precious brothers killed by the Dragon’s. Surafel had been killed in 36,000, now resting in Sheol. And then Talzudiel followed by Adruel. Some of the most respected of all of God’s angelic children. Slaughtered at the hands of the Dragon’s of Darkness. But the Angel’s had been keeping score. They knew each dragon – they knew them all. 1,723 dedicated rebels in Satan’s key attacks from the final confrontation at Zaphon. Nearly all of the Oraphim of Infinity. Of course, they had humans in their ranks. Probably many. But the angels knew once the Dragon’s were disposed of their job would be easier. Much easier. And they had eliminated 327 of them so far – all dead. All dead and gone. Apart from the 3 Seraphim, about 70 Cherubim officers had also been killed by the Dragon’s. And their losses had been greatly lamented. But such was life David kept telling him. And such was death Daniel thought to himself.
Tonight was a key night in their campaign. They had leads – important leads as to the location of 7 key dragons, on the outskirts of Boston. They would strike tonight and, with a bit of luck, soon have to deal with 7 less of their most dreaded opponents.
* * * * *
Meludiel, stitching up the wound, smiled at her hero. She was pleased. Very pleased. ‘You did well, hon. Very well. I am proud of you,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing his forehead. 6 Dragons now dead, 4 of them by Daniel’s own hand, and the other in custody. And now his girlfriend was kissing him and stitching up the hole in his arm were the bullet had gone through. They had been close like this now for the past 3,000 or so years. Not married. Not married yet and perhaps never. ‘Supercop’, she reminded him. ‘Probably won’t marry you because of Supercop.’ But Daniel didn’t mind, in the end. It was an age long triangle. Well understood now. She would go back to him one day. He didn’t really doubt that. But she was with him for now. And they were tight as a unit, lovers and the best of friends. And with his arm being stitched up, thinking how lucky he had been that night, he was just glad he had someone to share his ordeals with. Someone to care for.
He had kept Meludiel at arm’s length recently. But for a reason. He feared his own death. But keeping her at arm’s length Daniel knew something was still true. Like David might say. If you love her you have to do the opposite. You have to hug her and kiss her. ‘Keep the bloody dragon’s at arm’s length, Dan. Not Mel.’ And Daniel had acted on those words, acknowledging them and drawing even closer to his sister. It could kill him, this war with hell, but he was not dead yet. And in the end if he did perish then keeping his beloved at arm’s length in his final days was the last thing he wanted to do. How would that end a life? How would that be glory? And so, as the war with the Dragon’s continued Daniel drew ever closer to his sister and prayed to God that somehow he would come through alive. All he could do, in the end, was pray and trust. It was simply in the hands of God.
Ambriel – Supercop
The bullet had just missed his head. But Supercop, as always, kept his cool. His cool demeanour, known by everyone, earning him the tag Supercop. Mild mannered David Rothchild, they all called him. And he chuckled at the comment. He peered out over the car, noticing were the Dragon was stationed. It was down to them two, stuck in a Dragon’s lair, fighting for his life. But Supercop, so all the Dragon’s knew, was practically invincible. Always a trick up his sleeve. He undid his coat, and let his wings come loose. He would use flight, right now. A tactic seldom employed by any of the angels, almost as a tribute of honour towards their human cop counterparts. But they did fly, occasionally. When the situation warranted it.
He flew to the edge of the lair, over on the right hand side. And then he pulled out a small smoke bomb and hurled it in the direction he knew the Dragon was waiting. And then, flying around the Dragon, doing a loop to his opposite side, the smoke started clearing and Supercop was behind him. He landed, tapped him on the shoulder, and the Dragon turned. He was about to go for his gun and blow David away when David let out a quick punch right between the eyes, and the Dragon fell to the ground.
‘Well done Supercop,’ David said to himself.
* * * * *
They’d had a good few weeks. 119 Dragons arrested in the local area, all awaiting the fateful day on death row. It was gruesome business Ambriel thought to himself, sentencing a soul to Sheol. But such was the penalty. An ancient Noahide law he had known once, and part of his own Israelite Torah as well. And he understood why. He understood that if they let the Dragon’s, once they had killed, get away – well then they would never stop killing. And bloodshed required vengeance. That was God’s holy law.
He thought of the war with Dragon’s this past few years. It had made him strong. So much stronger than he had ever been. For he had confronted fears greater than he had ever known. The fears of very death itself. But, like his brother Daniel, he had remained calm under pressure. He took the job seriously, applying his knowledge and skill as best he could. And, from all the commendations, New Jersey was eternally grateful. And he knew he was doing the right thing because of it.
He thought on his current girlfriend. Cherubim from eternity who he had been his first real romance after Meludiel. She was really one of his closest confidantes and she understood when Meludiel was around to make herself scarce. But David loved her anyway. She was a friend when he needed her to be there, and as much as he once hated to acknowledge the point, actually having a break from Meludiel from time to time, despite his enormous love for her, actually seemed to make sense. You just couldn’t, in the end, be surrounded by the same person indefinitely. It just couldn’t work. You needed time apart. To see other people, to make other friends, to have other lovers. And while Ambriel prized fidelity perhaps higher than any other soul, it was the wisdom his brother Valandriel so often expressed which seemed to remain the very truth in the real world. ‘Such is life,’ God said to him once on the subject. ‘Rules guide us, dear son. But reality will always have its say.’ And that consoled Ambriel somewhat.
It was hard work, now, in the life of David Rothchild. The hardest he had been involved with. The war with the Dragon’s kept him up at nights. But looking into the eternal destiny before him he seemed to instinctively understand that God would not have it any other way. Really, in the end, he would have it no other way.
Mary smiled. Her heart was tender, so tender, looking at her twin Cyril she had not seen for quite a while. The Cherubim Cyril smiled at her with the warmth of an angel of Glory. He loved Mary, with all his heart. It was a blessed day in heaven, a day he would never forget.
“Your name is engraved on my heart, written in eternal letters. I love you.”
“And I you, beloved husband.”
“The Fabulous Misadventures of the Famous 17 Kaleidoscope collectors.”
“Why Kaleidoscopes, Daniel?”
Daniel the Seraphim considered Meludiel’s question.
“Why not sis?”
“Its not quite like you.”
“Times Change. You know,” responded Daniel.
Later on in the week the other 16 top ranked collectors in the universe of rare kaleidoscopes along with Daniel at 17 were in New York City on New Terra for a conference. But Daniel decided to skip the show and persuaded the other guys and the one lady to go to the girlie show.
Janek Smithton looked at the scantily dressed female. He was embarrassed. Still quite innocent at 498. Daniel smiled and said “Whistle at her. Tell her she’s hot.” But Janek just blushed.
A little later on that night, after several pints of New York Ale, Daniel dragged them all to the circus which had a late night special. After they’d seated Daniel threw up on the fat lady in front of him. Janek just grimaced.
Around 2, four of them still remaining, they were in the brothel. Daniel managed to slur to the lady ‘Yurrr beewtifull’ before passing out. He woke up the next day, naked, handcuffed to a lightpole on liberty isle looking at the statue.
* * * * *
“Yeh, we got him,’ said Absalom to David. ‘He’ll be dead embarrassed.’ David grinned.
“Heh, heh, heh. Revenge is sweet.”
“Matthew the Artist”
“Deborah. It isn’t just that I like painting pictures of you. You are me twin and you are dear to me.”
“But Matthew, you have done 3 pictures of me already this week and after 1000 years heaven is starting to run out of room to store your pictures.”
“Yes, it is getting like that.” Responded Matthew. “Just one more then, and I will leave it for a while.”
“Very well” responded his twin.
* * * * *
6 Months later Matthew had just finished going through heaven removing about 3 quarters of his art work. Sitting out in the field the pictures were before him in a giant stack, like a bonfire. About 40 others of the 70 children of heaven were present. It was now late enough, and as Joah finished pouring on the kerosene and Matthew flicked the match at the pile, the pictures erupting into flames instantly, he reflected.
It was true – they had eternity before them. And if he needed to he could eventually paint the same painting again. But for now recycling was the rule of the day and thence forth forever more.
* * * * *
In his eternal domain God had finished arranging the copies of Matthews destroyed artwork. In his own personal domain God had infinite resources and would go on storing the words of his children for all eternity. But he had given them resource management lessons and was glad they were starting to learn this fundamental, eternal lesson.
‘Quick. Run. Run. Run.’
The demon was a bastard, one of the worst. Gabriel looked at him, spoke some words of power, ‘Get stuffed,’ and Satan’s newest pup shrieked at being belted with the power of too many trillion volcanoes, melted away, and finally showed up at his father’s domain fourteen quadrillion years later with quite a story to tell.
Later on, chuckling at the poor fellow’s probable current state, Gabriel finally made his way back to the portal. A quick word, he stepped through on the signal, and he was suddenly back home. He looked at the rim – it seemed the same as ever – but being this far from Zaphon would be awkward. He really hated it when God deactivated the earlier portals and said everyone had to use the outer rim portals if they wanted to go out. His way of keeping his children at home, Gabriel thought to himself.
* * * * *
‘And what exactly is a Googolplexian, dear Aquariel?’
‘A number, Gabriel. Daniel showed it to me on the web. Quite a large one.’
‘I forget. But big. Real big. More than millions, billions or trillions. Really bloody big.’
Gabriel, looking at her probable exaggerations, decided to look at the website, which she shortly brought up on the screen. After a few moments, having made the mental connection somewhat, he understood.’
‘Yeh, that is big. I suppose Cimbrel did up this website.’
‘Uh, no actually. It came from Televon. A Noahide fellowship website started it.’
‘Haven, I think.’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Mmm. Well, it is interesting. I will have to look at it more carefully later on. Sus it out.’
* * * * *
Michael was pretty casual for not having seen Gabriel in over a century, but firstborn, these days especially, could often be like that. His new ‘Chill out’ mentality some Cherubim had conned him into. But Gabriel went through the formalities anyway, queried if he was finally sick of being overseer again for so long, and disappeared, headed for the pub. He was thirsty, needed a drink, and wanted to catch up with the Zaphon crowd. Find out what had been happening.
* * * * *
‘So Semyaza says, ‘Who the Fugg do you think you are? God or something?’, and then Daniel told him to Fugg himself and walked off, totally pissed.’
Gabriel found the story of the two Cherubim’s arguments on a matter of authority quite interesting, but doubted that Daniel really meant what he was saying to Semyaza. Just trying to get the fellow to repent a bit were Gabriel thought’s. Still, adjuring Semyaza by the living God to repent of his carnal ways took guts from Dan and Gabriel was a little impressed, especially going up Semyaza. That devil was a handful at the best of times and his twin Sharakondra – hell she was a wildcat when she wanted to be. But that was their way, the way they had always been. Ever since the fall Gabriel had known Semyaza was destined to be a bad boy, and even after he finally repented before God and the Father let him home he still went back to some of his bad ways. But never had they quite been as bad again and he felt, in all likelihood, Daniel was just keeping Semyaza on his toes. Probably sensible of him.
‘Yeh, its not a bad tale mate. Anyway, cheers,’ he said, raising an ale and taking a long swig.’
* * * * *
Gabriel sat in the throneroom of Terraphon, half asleep. It had been hours now and God still had not responded and he was about to give up. But suddenly, noting the flames of the throne turn to a bright purple, God spoke. ‘INTERESTING IDEA. NO, I DISAGREE.’
‘You took your time. But why? Why not now? Surely they are becoming worthy of more of your attention, more of your heart. Surely, especially New Terrans, should hear their God in person. Should hear him speak to them in their assemblies, to hear the living word of God. It is bloody funny but there are alternative theories on life and everything, people calling the angelic explanation a delusion. They say you don’t really exist and this is just an atomic progression from earth-life into the next state of consciousness. It was a bloody popular theory, and there are hundreds of variants. They need to know you are there, father. They need to hear your voice. ‘WHICH IS WHY THEY WON’T’.
He thought on that, thought on it for half an hour sitting there as God had gone silent. And finally, remembering earth and what he put them through down there, left the throne room unsurprised. He was never really into those who were faithless. Never really that much, and it looked as if he hadn’t changed. But perhaps he had considered it, given his lengthy time to respond. Perhaps he had.
* * * * *
‘Look, Gab. Father is right. It is the way it is supposed to be now, and I think even more so for the outer planets. I even think God wants them to forget he is even there again. Want’s to be left alone. Has the ‘Do not disturb’ sign up.
‘Because most of them really have not repented seriously and you know the dropout rate, don’t you. Some barely make a millennium and they’re gone. Had enough of the same old struggle, dealing with the same old problems.’
‘But that is why they really need to hear from him.’
‘It’s a sin issue, bro. It’s a sin issue. But I wouldn’t sweat it in the end. It is the way of life – those who will be or who are meant to be, or maybe even both – well they will make it in the long run. So don’t worry about it. Remember the fate of the wicked, bro. Remember that and leave them be.’
* * * * *
He thought on the issue for the next 6 months straight, finally conceding that Michael was probably correct. It was simply the way God was towards the sinner – simply the way he was. But Gabriel knew, now, they all had fair warning and plenty of time to choose. The facts of life and death, in the end, the facts of life and death. And then, heading off to the pub to get the heavy thoughts off his mind, Gabriel thought on his sis and felt a few carnal urges towards her. Something to get him over his current bloody malaise and back to reality. ‘Yeh,’ he thought to himself – back to reality.
Aphrayel looked at her two brothers, Samael and Sandalphon. Two male angels remaining. Only two angels remaining, and Logos himself, besides herself and Rhaemliel, over at the central tower. Satan’s vengeance really had been quite deadly. Quite deadly indeed. And now, of all the angels who had ever lived in the Realm of Infinity, only 4 remained. Such was life.
The Realm of Eternity had faired a little better, but not much, really. Not much better. All of the Seraphim had survived from that realm, as well as the first few hundred twins amongst the Cherubim, but the rest had been killed in the wars. God’s children had been decimated by the dark one. Totally destroyed.
She thought on Satan, and the final killing blow Callodyn had made upon him. How he had slain him with the 7th sword of power ‘Excelsius’, and ridded life once and for all of the master of evil. Her own beloved Callodyn, Samael, had watched the Angel of Eternity as he had slain the dark lord, impressed by the dark vengeance which had been in this Angel of God. And Satan, now, was gone from them. Vanquished forever.
And now peace had returned to the United Realms. Peace, and hope for a fresh start – a fresh beginning. She missed her brothers and sisters, and probably always would, but such was life. Such was death. And thinking, really, there was no point in crying over spilt milk, she continued on with her game of solitaire, occasionally looking up at Samael who was over by the window staring out at the Golden City.
Dark Times 2
It was a lonely, desolate place. He felt as if he'd been here before. Somewhere in the history of his heart. Somewhere in the history of his soul. He had been condemned again, tormented to suffer this godforsaken wasteland, with very little water, and sparse vegetation. But Satan was only getting what he deserved, wasn't he. Ambriel had confronted him on the footsteps of Paramount tower, smiled innocently, and then shot him with a tranquilizer dart. And when he woke he was all alone, in a cold and dark place, and he spent the night shivering to find himself in a wasteland, not knowing where, which, after weeks of travel, seemed to go on forever.
'What, did you think you could escape my justice?' the voice continued tormenting his mind. 'You'll justify sin and get away with it?'
'Fuck off,' was Satan's only reply, and the voice left for a while but, inevitably, like the suffering he was going through, it returned.
He looked off into the distance. More wasteland. He had just reached the top of a climb, and was hopeful for some sign of life, but no. Miles till the next horizon, and nothing. Satan didn't cry. He was too hard for that. Too EVIL for that. But he collapsed, and put his head in his hands, and just suffered. In silence. He just suffered.
The cold day passed, and the night came again, and he found another small creek and drank, and ate roots of grass, which seemed somewhat more palatable. And he shivered again that night, and was starting to cough and wheeze. And the days passed, and then weeks, and then months, and then 1 year, and then 2. And he knew he was in hell.
* * * * *
'So, where do you think he is then?' asked Michael.
'God only knows,' replied Ambriel. 'Probably fucked off to some planet out beyond or something. Who the fuck cares? He's Satan.'
Michael looked at his younger brother. He had a suspicion, but he wouldn't query directly.
'I guess, wherever he is, he is enjoying himself then,' said Michael.
Ambriel looked ahead, as they walked on around their march around Zaphon Tower. 'Probably, I guess,' he said. 'Who knows? Might be in some deep shit.'
'Mmm,' said Michael. 'Maybe.'
* * * * *
'I CAN'T REALLY DISCLOSE THAT INFORMATION. IT'S SATAN OWN AFFAIR.'
'Then he's ok then?' asked Michael.
Then, 'WHO KNOWS,' replied God Almighty.
* * * * *
And then he had counted the days as 7 years, and then he gave up. It went on forever, and he would not quit walking, but it never ended. A wasteland which never ended. His clothes were tattered, and his feet sore with blisters constantly, for his shoes had worn away long ago. He was cursed. Damned. Exiled. Forgotten. But he didn't give a shit, and would not weep. He would never weep.
And then one night, when a snake had bitten him, and he felt the sting of poison, he went into a fever. And it lasted for 3 days, before he started recovering. And when he finally stood, and looked at the wasteland, he fell to the earth.
And he did weep then. He did weep.
Ambriel showed up then, about 4 weeks later. The spaceship landed just a few yards away from the resting devil, who slowly inched forward, not daring to believe this mirage, and found the hatch open. He went in. The cockpit cabin was sealed off, so he didn't know who was flying the ship, but there were bunks and food and a bathroom.
They landed at the spaceport near Paramount Tower, and Satan exited. Then the ship was gone again, and Satan was home.
He walked, a little more steadily this time, and was soon at his tower, and when he marched into his head office they all looked at him.
'Where the fuck have you been?' Samaen asked.
'In fucking hell,' replied Satan, and slammed the door shut of his office, and was not seen again for 3 days.
* * * * *
'He's back,' said Michael.
'Who?' asked Ambriel, as they continued their regular walks around Zaphon Tower.
'The devil. Satan.'
Ambriel grinned. 'But who the fuck cares,' he replied.
'I guess so,' said Michael, giving a careful glance to his younger Seraphim brother as they steadily continued on their march around Zaphon Tower, in the Heart of Eternity.
The Celestyel Angel Aphrayel
‘I am telling you this for the millionth time, Sammy. I am perfectly safe. I have addressed every area of ergonomic concern, healthy eating, morality and what have you for thousands of years now. I am perfectly safe dear brother. Worry not, ok.’ Samael looked at her, very worried that his sister, with only 199 years to go, that she would have the attitude necessary to survive the final two centuries to the ‘life blessing’ promised by father. And then, knowing he once bore the name ‘Satan’ a thought came to him on life and justice. If she was ready, if she was truly ready, humility would be her hallmark and pride would not claim the day. So Samael thought on a little trip, just to test wether his sister really would accompany him on the great and grand trip of eternal life.
* * * * *
‘Come on Sammy, Sandy. It is perfectly safe.’ Aphrayel was at the top of a particularly high mountain out in Mitraphora, higher even than Mt Zadar, standing on the anciently constructed ‘Playhouse’ at the top of the mountain on a shaft of rock just away from the side of the mountain. There was a short 20 foot bridge which lead to the playhouse. ‘I don’t know, Aphy. I don’t think I trust that bridge,’ said Samael, a little grin at the side of his mouth which Sandalphon had been eying suspiciously all that morning. ‘Its safe, Sammy. Look, I can even jump on it.’ Aphrayel proceeded to step onto the bridge and jump up and down. ‘I told you,’ she said while jumping, ‘it is perfectly…….’ WHOOOSH. And suddenly, the bridge collapsed, and Aphrayel began a long plummet downwards, seemingly to her death, caught up in the bridge and the collapsing playhouse and shaft of rock following her down.
* * * * *
The funeral was a simple affair, so used to death had the angels become. Sandalphon, since the accident and having searched the rubble for hours, was remorseful. Somehow he knew Samael was to blame. Somehow he expected his brother.
Later on that day, Samael and Sandalphon were in Samael’s room, Rhaemliel sitting next to Samael, now seemingly enjoying her brother’s company, when suddenly the door burst open and Aphrayel, clothes dirty and in tatters, limping on what appeared to be a broken leg, wings ruffled and scrapes, cuts and bruises all over her body, came towards Samael, looked in his face, and said, ‘YOU, YOU, YOU……..AAAARRRGGH.!!!!’ And she left in similar a manner.
Samael could not help but grin, noticing Logos in the doorway who had probably shared some of Samael’s ideas with Aphrayel. Still, in the end, she had survived. She had survived.
“The 7th Angel”
7 angels stood on the precipice, overlooking the Insanity Abyss. Colexios spoke.
“The Dark One resides below.”
“So you say,” responded Miznadura.
Brengalenta flew down 50 feet and returned.
“Don’t go in,” she said. “The hostility is too great.”
“Then we are doomed,” said Shelarmyos.
Layendriel looked at Elltaravere. “Is he worth it?’ he queried.
“Then we hunt Demon.” Finished the 7th Cherubim Angel of the group, Vistrantiel to his Cherubim brethren.
AND THEY FELL AS ONE.
“Crazy Funky Love Child”
‘Jenny you suck.’
‘You wish,’ replied the ravenhaired firey drop of Satan’s precious love, dressed in scarlet, looking like every man’s most desperate wet dream.
‘Hey, Fugg. No, I mean, Fugg. I mean you don’t suck. That’s not what I meant, bitch. You always screw what I say.’
Jenny Savereign came over to Kalan Listomore and responded in the way only Jenny Savereign can, holding his cheeks, and almost kissing him.
‘It is because you are such a wuvvely little boy, Kalan. I can’t help but tease anyone as adorable as you,’ she said with the cuteness of a nymph dryad after a hard nights activities.
Kalan was about to give up, completely frustrated. She had bedevilled him again. For the third time this month his guardian angel duties towards the Colvin boy had gone awry as Jenny claimed the monthly prize for the most spiritual fruit in her steward, Rachel Leigh. You see the Most High ran contests in these most enlightened times to ensure his numerous protégés continued their zesty life challenge of sanctifying the human race. And when Jenny inevitably brought forth those special qualities of crazy, funky love which only Jenny Savereign could, then she used her credits earned in true competitive fashion to do disaster upon disaster (within legal allowance) upon the Colvin boy under Kalan’s tutelage. Oh yes, she was a devil dressed in red, completely and utterly alike her devastating father of darkness, the dread Lord Saruviel Savereign, Premiere Archangel of the Realm of Splendour.
‘I’ll get you, bitch,’ said Kalan with unveiled hostility.
‘When hell freezes over, cowboy.’
‘Cowboy! What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh I was forgetting. Cowgurrl. Tee hee.’
Jenny looked up at the scoreboard in the centre for spiritual sanctification, Canberra division, Tuggeranong Sector. Only the top 300 angels on points were represented at any one time and she was numero uno. Of course Kalan was pretty adroit at his work, all things considered, and usually cruised in around number 50 or so. But he was challenging Jenny’s sovereignty constantly and would do anything to claim her spot. Well, almost anything (within legal allowance, that is).
Jenny turned to Kalan. ‘Remember, amateur. To get to number one you have to be bold. But you have to also learn all the tricks of the trade and then a few things or to. Be original, silly. God likes that. And last but not least, love your steward. If you don’t love him you won’t change him. They never respond otherwise.’
‘Yeh, I know. Duh, I think I had that figured out.’
‘Perhaps. Seeya, LOSER!’ And she disappeared, headed for the nightclub and her usual coven of she-wenches.
* * * * *
Saruviel Savereign, Premiere Archangel of the Realm of Splendour, inspected the long blade. The merchant wanted 12 million credits, quite a hefty sum. But for a blade once belonging to his greatest idol, the Lord Saruviel of the Realm of Eternity, and one of such fine quality – well was any price really too high.
‘You drive a hard bargain, merchant man. Surely, sayeth I, your prices can be devolved to something more utterly reasonable.’
The merchant man was a merchant man because he was indeed skilled at his trade.
‘But cannot you rightly see the magnificente quality of the blade, sire. It would surely cut through light itself when put to the test.’
Savereign looked down the edge of the blade.
‘So you say.’
‘Indeed sire. Dare I say it, the Most High could not fashioneth such a blade lest he had studied the fullness of eternity, such being the skill of the ancient blademaker who forged such perfection.’
‘And who was such a personage,’ inquired Savereign with great interest.
‘A divine mystery, I am afraid. Suffice to say the dread Lord Saruviel held the said individual in great esteem.’
Savereign inspected the blade once more.
‘Surely you ask too much. But I am well endowed with funds as of late, so you shall have your paltry sum. Here,’ he said, handing over the ‘HEAVENLY VISA’ credit card.
Two hours later, his disaster of a daughter and all her witchlike crony friends in the main living room of his mansion, Savereign retired to his upper den to inspect the blade.
‘Indeed it may verily cut through light,’ he thought to himself, running his thumb down the sharpness of the sword.
Just then his beautiful daughter entered, dressed in something appropriate for the raping of teenage men to lose their virginity, not untypical for a Savereign female.
But Savereign was still engaged in the idolatrous attention due the beloved once property of his great object of admiration, the said Dread Lord Saruviel.
‘Daady.’ She continued.
‘3 more weeks. 3 more weeks and I graduate. Up to senior division. I have done well, haven’t I?’
‘My God this is a good blade,’ he said, continuing his love affair with the steel of Angelic glory.
‘Oh Daady, I love you,’ she said, hugging her father, who looked down at her, momentarily puzzled, then cautiously put his arm around her shoulder, showing her the affection he knew he should as a proud father of a daughter ready to graduate to senior humans sanctification.
He came to himself.
‘Remember, daughter of mine. Adult humans are different. They get, how shall I put it, values when they get older. And they can be quite stubborn on them. Your techniques may work well for the younger audience but I am afraid the traditional approaches of the classical workers are what usually work best for the older clientele.’
‘Nonsense and poppycott. People have changed. Society is different now. Trends in human behaviour and valuation of morality demonstrate that clearly. You are living in yesteryear, father. Totally out of touch.’
‘Be that as it may, you may see some sense in my words quite soon. Take them or leave them – they are my advice to you.’
She softened, and decided to accept, in true graciousness, his advice.
‘I’ll remember, father. I’ll remember.’
And she disappeared to her Goth angel friends as her father continued his adorations.
* * * * *
John Dawkins was a regular shmo. But at 28, single, no kids, unemployed, and just finally getting over a drug addiction, halfway between a halfway house and a new flat which looked promising, John was ready for something to happen in his life. Anything. And so when he prayed that prayer one fateful night to God for the first time in his life, as the rehabilitation officer had suggested he do, The Most High despatched the decadent mistress of harlotry, Jenny Savereign, for her first tour of duty in the Senior Sanctification division. And the start of a new lease on life began for both of them.
John looked in the cupboards of his new flat. Empty again. He had been here for 3 months now and still hadn’t balanced the budget properly. He was going to be hungry for a few days until Centrelink allowance day again. Over in the corner, sitting on the floor, invisible to John, Jenny Savereign looked, finally, defeated. She had practically given up her goal on this most stubborn individual. At first she had placed within his mind the urge to use charm on people. To speak kindly and compliment them. But while, in his newborn spiritual zeal, which had lasted barely a month, his mind had considered that, he soon shrugged it off as too much of a bother.
And that was when she began getting the not so subtle hints her father and others had hinted at. Adults were different.
After that she tried suggesting this 28 year old virgin flirt with the girl in the flat next to his, an athletic trim looking 20 year old with a good job. She would be perfect for him. But all his mind responded to the suggestion was ‘Yeah right. She is way out of my league.’ It was by then that Jenny was learning that John Dawkins had confidence problems. But more that that – low self esteem. So she tried encouraging him and praising him instead, but searching his memory all she could find was a fourth place in junior athletics when he was 12. ‘Gee, it’s hardly worth the effort,’ she began thinking to herself.
It seemed, after that, that no matter what avenue of inspiration she suggested to try and motivate Dear John, nothing seemed to work. And when she said to his mind, ‘What, are you the loser I think you are?’ out of frustration, his mind simply, in a spirit of apathy, said probably. It was about then she had given up. She went to the centre for spiritual sanctification to ask if someone else could be given her client, but they went through the formal contract arrangements she had already signed, a contract necessary for her to finish to gain the income later on in life necessary for obtaining what she wanted in heaven, and found it to be watertight. She could quit, of course, but then she would never be guaranteed the allowance later on. And so, amidst a spirit of frustration, she returned to the Erindale flat and just moped in the corner, occasionally suggesting to him that he should do something, anything, to get out of his malaise, but most of the time just watching the television set which he rarely turned off. It seemed the once impregnable sanctifier of perfection, the illustrious Jenny Savereign, had given up. And it was about then the Most High took a personal interest in the case.
* * * * *
She noticed the big guy immediately. He was hard not to notice. John was sitting in front of the box, watching a sitcom, and Jenny was on the floor, bored, when God floated into the room. He looked at his son John and smiled. ‘JUST LIKE I REMEMBER HIM FROM THE YEARS IN MY HEART.’
Jenny watched the spirit of God hover around John Dawkins, expecting something, but all the Father of Glory did was comfort John’s loneliness. ‘YOU WILL BE FINE, DEAR CHILD. YOU ARE LOVED, REMEMBER THAT.’
And John Dawkins, suddenly feeling better, got up and turned the television off.
‘I think I’ll go for a walk,’ he said to nobody in particular.
Jenny watched him change his clothes and leave the flat, while the Spirit remained. God spoke to Jenny suddenly.
‘WELL ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE MISS SAVEREIGN?’
Immediately Jenny took the rebuke and, despite still being frustrated herself, got up and followed John. The Spirit of God started following both of them.
John had his joggers, track pants and a t-shirt on and, fortunately as far as Jenny was concerned, they almost seemed clean. John had decided to walk down to the nearby school oval and do some laps. He rarely ran for fitness but knew he was slowly getting fat so should do something about it. At the oval there were a couple of guys playing cricket and his neighbour, the 20 year old girl, doing laps. He shrugged to himself, not really expecting anything, but fantasizing anyway. But then he remembered she was way out of his league.
After a few laps he came up short, not far from the girl, when Jenny watched the Spirit come upon him and listened to what God had to say.
‘REMEMBER SHE IS ONLY HUMAN. A LOT LIKE YOU IN SO MANY WAYS.’
And thinking that, John Dawkins gained some confidence.
Later on that week John and Sheryl had become friends. He had talked carefully to her at first, but she hadn’t minded. She had no boyfriend presently, but didn’t seem immediately interested in John. But she seemed to like him as a friend.
In the flat on Saturday Jenny suggested something to John’s mind, trying to impress God who was hovering around the flat.
‘Try flirting with her. Girls like that.’
And John instantly got an erection thinking of Sheryl. But then God responded and spoke to John.
‘IF YOU REALLY LIKE HER, TRY RESPECTING HER FOR WHO SHE IS. GIRLS ADMIRE THAT THE MOST IN THE LONG TERM.’
And John settled, acknowledging the rebuke in his mind.
All that summer Jenny Savereign was learning. She was learning that so much that she had learned dealing with the younger audience, on being cool, hip and happening, really didn’t work that well with people as they got older. People had expectations then, all of them it seemed. They wanted love, but they also wanted peace of mind and to do something useful with their lives. People, it seemed, got more serious as they started growing up.
And then one day the Spirit of God spoke to her.
‘HAVE YOU LEARNED ANYTHING?’
And Jenny, in a spirit of humility, nodded.
The next afternoon Sheryl was in John’s flat and Jenny said something to his mind. ‘Be honest with her John. Tell her your hopes, dreams and desires. But let her know you are only a frail human in the end.’
And John, sensing something spoken to his mind which sounded about right, shared his hearts dilemmas on life with Sheryl. It was after that Sheryl kissed him and they started dating. Jenny indeed had begun learning about adults. About being caring and responsible. And about letting go of the childish ways.
* * * * *
Over the years Jenny Savereign changed. The nymphomaniac of teenage years grew up into a lady who started demanding respect rather than lustful attention. But she grew in mercy and kindness as well.
Her father, Lord Saruviel Savereign, smiled to himself softly. He sensed the Most High at work in his daughter and was happy with that. He trusted the Lord. The Lord allowed him to carry on his eccentric ways, barely ever rebuking him. Saruviel acknowledged the wisdom of his eternal father. God knew everything, he reminded himself. And as he watched his daughter grow up from a child of the devil into a daughter of God he himself also began to more greatly appreciate the ways of the divine.
* * * * *
Kalan sat on the bench. He was upset. For so long, in adult sanctification division, he had been number one. He had laughed when Jenny first joined the adults and had failed miserably. With the younger audience he himself had always taken the more mature approach, but had eventually yielded to Jenny’s crazy, funky love to try and win the youth. But when he had graduated to adult’s division he had gone back to his traditional ways and had great success. He ended up praying for Jenny to get it together, but now, after John Dawkins had become a Member of Parliament, Jenny Savereign was getting all the praise. And she had finally taken him, again, at number one.
He sat on the bench, outside of the centre for sanctification, looking up at the sky, when Jenny came up to him.
‘This crazy funky life has taught me a lot, Kalan Listomore. But one thing I have learned is this. We all learn from each other and all good things take some time.’ And then she kissed him on the cheek, told him he was luvverly with her cute little voice, and disappeared up the path. And then Kalan started laughing.
‘The frosty nightmares of professor Zelzazon’
‘Ooohh, its cold. Ish cold.’
‘Cheer up professor. You’ll be awake soon. And then we will no longer torment you. Har Har Harrggghhh.’
And instantly professor Zelzazon awoke, the icy demons of his nightmares departing.
7 years of nightmares was not good for professor Zelzazon, but he had put up with them. But now, truly believing, against all scientific evidence, that they were indeed demons haunting his sleep, professor Zelzazon began inventing a demon slaying device. However, half way through his design, he gave up and simply got a small crystal decanter from off his shelf, buggered off to the local catholic church and filled it with holy water, and returned home. That night he splashed some holy water on his bed and went off to his dreams.
There they were, all 7 of the demon goblins who had been tormenting him for years, all in church, receiving holy communion. He was seated at the back and the goblins all came down and sat next to him. When the last one was seated they said as one, ‘we love you professor. Jesus has shown us the light.’ And the professor, from that point onwards, had most charming dreams.
Callodyn arranged it. The Android army at his disposal accomplished it. And then, the entire patrilineal populace of the children of Shem having been killed, vindication had been achieved. Noah’s glory had been restored.
“A Wicked Sense of Humour”
Mr Daly laughed. There he was. Jesus of Nazareth, standing outside his house, looking mightily pissed off. ‘Come on ya cunt. Come on ya Fugging cunt. Come outside. I’ll make a Fugging man of you.’
‘Fugg off or I’ll call the cops ya bastard,’ responded Mr Daly to Jesus Boy’s insults.’
‘You killed me, you bastard. 14 days in oblivion, atoms floating around everywhere. Believe me, it was hell. But, praise the Lord, he restored me, and guess what. There is a huge army of Shem just parked down the stellar system a little, and believe me they are pissed off.’
Mr Daly was nervous. ‘Fugg. They’re back are they?’
‘You can’t Fugging kill us, dude. That’s against the Fugging rules.’
‘Fugging Shem,’ muttered Mr Daly under his breath. ‘All right. I will give you a Fugging break this time. I will leave you alone on your defiled circumcision agenda, but remember boy. We Noahides have the oldest covenant. So we are the holiest, cross boy. We are the holiest. So Seeya.’ That said Mr Daly left the window, went off for a drink of coke, leaving Jesus standing there wondering what the Fugg he was on about.
A Wicked Sense of Humour 2
Mr Daly was anti-semetic. Time and time again his Jewish therapist, appointed to him by the council of Shem, insisted he had fundamental anti-semetic issues to deal with. That was true. A long held grudge, from an insult from Jacob on his pathetic Haven Noahide Fellowship, in his own words, had instigated years of built up heavenly tensions, and former Nazi and KKK members, who had joined HNF in repentance, had been furious. And so 'Final Solution' had been initiated universally, as many Shemites killed as possible, which was, in the end, mainly 400 or so of the key figureheads in Shem's line, and a few trillion Israelites around the heavenlies, and the grudge had been satiated. And then the Theophany had shown up and suggested to Daniel that things might have just gotten out of hand a wee little bit. Daniel didn't dispute that. Still, Daniel himself had not technically authorized the Android Slayings, in the end. That had been a reprogramming hack, organised by some renegades in one of his companies. The Androids had just been programmed to insult Jews universally. Daniel would get Jacob back.
The renegades had been apprehended by the authorities, the death penalty sanctioned and delivered, and justice had been done. The theophany had assured people Daniel had only wanted to piss the Jews off, and had not been responsible for their deaths, and so the situation resolved itself in time.
And now he was seeing Dr Stern, who his wife Kirstie had recommended, getting the hell over it. Really, just that. Getting the hell over it.
Jesus had withdrawn the Shemite army from the planets nearby Televon, and lived in Paradision for a while, listening to Dr Stern's reports. Ultimately the report made its conclusions. The patient was not, technically, anti-semitic. Not technically. He had fundamentalist Torah concerns pertaining to Covenantal delineations, a volatile passion on such issues, and a recovering Schizophrenic. But, in the end, it was nothing personal against the people of Israel.
Knowing this, Jesus withdrew from Paradision, prayed to God for him to sort the issue out, and that was that, as they say.
So Daniel went through his therapy, got some counselling, and began resuming his more regular life. And for the time being the issue was resolved. For the time being.
“Beyond the reaches of the Impossible Lords of Chaos, Destruction and Minor Ego Problems”
Daranok, having just completed his regular masturbation session, which due to the fact that as one of the Lords of Chaos and Destruction, yet stuck within the Realm of Splendour currently which, being inhabited by nothing but perfect pretty people the girls of which simply chuckled a bit at the suggestion that they bed him and have a bit of fun, the masturbation being an encounter with pleasure of the most regular sort deemed necessary and absolute to his vocation of hedonism in life, deemed again unavoidable due to the said girls current position, universally responded by them with words such as ‘You are kidding, aren’t you,’ and such the like, came into his room and sat on his bed.
Bogrol, his demon lord brother, looked at him. ‘Wassup, Nokkie.’
Daranok looked depressed. ‘I remember Hell, Bog. I remember hell. The demonessess were sometimes hot, but they didn’t give a Fugg if you wanted to shag or not. They were all Fugging sluts and easy on you.’
‘I know,’ responded Bogrol. ‘But, as you know, God finally gave us a break from our eternal punishment in hell and has assigned us our new lives in this realm. ‘Minor Ego Problems’, he continually maintained. That was all we ended up suffering. Just minor Fugging ego problems.’
‘And thusly he, in his abundant mercy, has transported us here to this realm of splendour, a great advancement in hospitality and kindness, if not in personal physical affection.’
‘And all we get to do is wank,’ said Bogrol.
‘Such is life,’ replied Daranok.
* * * * *
Professor Zelzazon looked at the new drugs. Having finished consulting with his extensive online database on chemical reactions, he was sure the drugs would work. Completely sure. Of all the places to end up upon death, The Realm of Splendour was an intense location to be. But God, it seemed, had provided the realm with a certain challenge. The Professor, who was quite cute himself, felt sorry in his heart that none of the pretty ladies in the realm would bed their current demon guests. But he also knew the facts of life and mating procedures, which was 100% brutal honesty by the girls of the Realm. They wanted ‘Hot’. Complete and utter ‘Fugging Hot’, and would not compromise in any way, shape or form. And so the professor, having completed his animistic spirituality science degree, working on the drugs, had first consulted the hierarchy of Angelic responsibility in the Realm of Splendor and, having gained permission, undertook his work and completed the manufacture of the drugs he currently had. And his purpose with such drugs? They were sanctification drugs. But they came at a price. They would work quickly, very quickly, within 3 to 4 weeks. But the price was incredibly high. The suffering, while it would not kill them, would be so great that they would despair of life itself. But the Professor deemed it necessary, assured in his hearts that the Lords of Chaos, in latter day reflection, would not object. And so, putting the drugs into a little plastic bottle, he made his way out to the front of his abode, sat at the bus stop just down the road a little, and contemplated the trip in front of him.
* * * * *
Daranok looked at the drug. ‘It does what?’ he again asked the professor. ‘You are sick of wanking, aren’t you,’ replied the professor. So Daranok, and Bogrol, the Lords of Chaos, Destruction and minor Ego Problems, took the pills and drank their glasses of water and, suddenly feeling a little sleepy, both headed for their beds.
* * * * *
Although, in the end, he didn’t really want to kill the professor, Daranok had cursed his name a few too many times in the last few weeks. But sitting there that morning, suddenly feeling quite a bit better, and looking at the mirror in front of him, he was not quite sure what to think. Was this really Daranok in front of him? Could it be? He knew he had never been the most handsome of individuals, but staring at the face of someone who, now, the girls of splendour might just take an interest in, noting Bogrol’s own shocked look as he came into the room, Daranok started losing his agro at Zelzazon. ‘What the Fugg has he done to us?’ asked Bogrol. ‘I don’t know,’ replied Daranok. And then they looked at each other and Daranok said the thing which was on both their minds. ‘But maybe our wanking sessions have come to an end.’ And Bogrol grinned.
* * * * *
5 girls, dressed as the most delicious of harlots, laying on his masterbed, now sound asleep. Daranok chuckled at the irony in life. 57 years of despisement, then all of a sudden more pussy than he could actually handle. Talk about ‘Hot Vagina’ indeed, as Boggy would put it. And laying there, thinking on the way his insane heavenly father worked, Daranok finally said to the spirit who had finally made a quiet point in defence of God’s justice, and how he had provided a solution beyond their own current capabilities, ‘Well, whatever.’
The dead had rested. Aeon upon aeon had they rested. Those destroyed in hell had lain in Sheol, the merest hint of their existence lost in an eternal contemplation of what the hell went wrong.
And then they were alive again and Ronanel said to them. ‘Death choices lead to death. Life choices lead to life. Don’t piss God off forever.’
Satan groaned. ‘Ok, Ronanel. We get the fucking point.
‘If you choose God, he will always save you,’ finished Ronanel.
Daxran, standing behind Satan, nodded. ‘He punishes us to get his way.’
‘His way is for your and everyone’s own good. You know that in your heart.’
‘Aye,’ said Satan. ‘That we do.’
The resurrected dead marshalled along, up to the realm of new beginnings, and Ronanel breathed a sigh of relief. 45% of them had been granted the gift of eternal life now. It would be interesting to see how many ultimately complied and stopped choosing evil to be granted the gift.
Arriving back at Zaphon he dropped in on Callodyn. ‘Hi uncle Daniel. Satan says he’s over it. Life will do.’
‘Thank God for that,’ responded the Cherubim founder of Haven Noahide Fellowship.
The Fabulous Misadventures of the Famous 17 Kaleidoscope Collectors II
'Kaleidoscopes, David. That's not like you?'
King David looked up at Bathsheba. 'I have - taken an interest. I have several thousand of them now. There are trillions of unique designs yet unclaimed in Kaleidoscope technology, and I have been working on some of my own.'
'These letters. From Seraphim Daniel. From the 'Elite and Superior Kaleidoscope Klub'. What are they all about? I have glanced at some of them. He seems quite rude, really.'
'Bah. The man is an imbecile. Claims I am not worthy to even own a kaleidoscope of merit. That a dung beetle has more rights. Stupid infidel.'
'He is jealous?' she queried. 'Does he sense competition for his fame?'
'It could be that,' thought David confidently, and continued on with his intricate design work.
14 years later David finally fronted an invitation from the Elite and Superior Kaleidoscope Klub. They were meeting again in New Terra at New York at the same conference centre.
'She is - elegant - yet refined. She is a masterwork,' said David.
Daniel took the kaleidoscope and looked through, turning the three knobs in various ways.
'Mmm,' said Daniel, handing it back to David. 'A tedious spectrum of hohum imagination. My pet dog could outdo it.'
'You are jealous,' said David. The other 16 Kaleidoscope collectors took their turn at the conference looking at their guests offering, and then started showing some of their own.
And David was then humbled.
'He has bettered you?' asked Bathsheba.
'Some of the - designs - I didn't really think you could do those sorts of things with Kaleidoscopes. I thought my three knobs and multiple chambers was decent, but they produced masterworks which made it look like a child's trinket. And Daniel didn't even gloat.'
'Then you have work to do, King of Israel,' responded the Queen.
David sighed, and looked at the paper in front of him. But then, with the inspiration from his recent holiday fresh in his heart and mind, he looked at the paper, conceived an idea, and designed, and drew and went with the magic.