The winter festivities always left Fergus in a contemplative mood. He was eager to debate theology with Providence as he was every year.

"Why isn't there some evidence, some concrete reason to believe the afterlife exists? What is the point in hiding?" Fergus asked.

"Being outside of regular perception is not the same as hiding," Providence countered.

Fergus pressed, "Wouldn't God have made more of an impression on his followers if he were evidently real and obviously present?"

"That is a reasonable conjecture."

"Wouldn't Heaven want some sort of safe-guard in place so that the Bible or the Koran or whatever text wouldn't be altered or manipulated through politics or mistranslation?"

"That assumes our organization is beholden to a piece of text in the first place."

"Do you even want people to get into Heaven? You seem to enjoy being mysterious."

Providence chuckled. "I am but one representative for a –"

Fergus interrupted, "A multi-facetted association with many departments and subsidiaries. Yeah, yeah… I know."

Fergus re-started the debate, "Why would you have gullibility as the only criteria for redemption?"

Providence's forehead wrinkled. "I don't understand your question."

Fergus explained, "Most major religions – and most cults as well – maintain that salvation comes from faith; further surmising that non-believers are punished."

"And you think it should be otherwise," Providence said.

"I think it is bogus to conceal every hint of the supernatural from possible detection and put up an impressive smoke screen in the form of an elegant, unified, natural, and seemingly accurate explanation for everything. It is unjust to punish people because we didn't find a certain set of antiquated, perverse, and frankly unconvincing fables believable enough to discard reason and disregard everything we've come to know through rigorous scientific discovery." Fergus took a deep breath.

Providence nodded her head. "That does sound like a ridiculous policy," she said quietly.

Fergus was not done with his rant. "For the crime of not being child-like enough to believe improbable nonsense we are doomed to – wait what did you say?"

"I said, it sounds like a ridiculous policy."

"Does that mean it's not a policy?"

"I don't know Hell's criteria for admittance," Providence said sweetly.


For the mortals of Blacksheep High School, winter break was over. The school hallways were filled with students chatting about their Christmas gifts and New Year's resolutions. Joane the angel barreled like a line-backer down the hall, phasing through mortal teenagers, and crashed into her hapless victim.

"Jojo, what the hell?" Sock moaned. He staggered back to his feet and looked around. "I'm nowhere near Lil." The angel slapped his mouth. Sock corrected himself, "Sorry! Nancy! I'm nowhere near Nancy." Joane shrugged her shoulders. Sock bristled, "You said 15 feet. She's practically at the other end of the hall!"

Joane smirked. "Huh. I guess I'm just a poor judge of distance."

The angel turned and soared back to her hovering position above Magill Nancy. Sock shouted, "That does it!" and raced down the hall. He took Jojo by surprise, tackling her out of mid-air.

"Sock, get off me!" the angel demanded.

"Not until you tell me what's really going on," Sock insisted. "And don't tell me you're just doing your job. Nancy is in no danger from me and you know it."

Jojo rolled and Sock toppled over. He quickly pounced again, grabbing from behind and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Fine," the angel spat. "Jonathan is Lil's boyfriend now. His happiness affects her happiness. And what makes him happy is you getting beaten to a pulp." She managed to wiggle one arm loose and elbow Sock in the stomach.

Sock was not deterred. He flew in front of her and when she swung to punch his face he managed to grab her wrists. "I'm serious, Jojo. We used to be friends."

"You watched me die," the angel snarled. "You enjoyed watching me die."

"Well, I didn't enjoy you being dead!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Joane, I missed you!" Sock confessed. He repeated it, "I missed you. I really did. With you gone, Stabitha was my only friend." He sighed and let go of the angel.

"Stabitha?" Jojo said confused. Then she backed away. "Ugh! You named the knife."

Her look of scorn completely left Sock completed deflated.


Fergus was a bit surprised to see Joane the angel at the bird sanctuary on a Sunday morning. "Jojo!" he said as he sat down beside her in the tall, twisted oak tree.

"Fergus," she gave him a friendly nod, but then her eyes quickly returned to watching the falcons swoop through the air.

"What brings you here on a Sunday?" Fergus asked. "I thought today was your day off."

"It is my day off. That's why I'm here."

"Why aren't you in Heaven enjoying a bubble bath and eating chocolate bon-bons?" Fergus asked, half teasing.

"Is that what you think Heaven is?" Joane wrinkled her nose.

Fergus shrugged. "I was given the impression that it is a place of unending pleasure."

"Yeah, well, unending isn't the same as consistent or constant. And for angels it does end, 'cause we gotta go back to work."

"You don't like your job?"

"It's okay, I guess. Some days I'm able to influence her, give her advice. She sometimes doesn't do as I suggest – free will and all. Some days I don't even know what to suggest. Most days I doubt I'm even making a difference."

There was a quiet moment. The two spirits simply sat watching the feathered creatures move through the sky and dive for their prey.

"If I do a good job as a guardian angel, Providence says I get to choose my final fate."

"Sort of like a retirement bonus?" Fergus joked. Joane didn't seem to get it.

"I guess. I've decided I'm gonna be a falcon."

"Really? You'd rather reincarnate as a lesser species than go to Heaven?" Fergus rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

Joane lay on her back. "I'm not sure I could truly enjoy Heaven knowing that there are millions of people suffering for all eternity in Hell. I mean, I know there are people who deserve severe punishment… but an eternity of punishment? Is that even fair?"

"You're making the assumption that the after-life is fair," Fergus responded. "I've had this conversation with Providence before."

Joane pursed her lips, but said nothing.

Fergus added, "You are also assuming that a person's existence in Heaven or Hell is going to be eternal."

"Even if it isn't, there is something about the real world, the actual Earth… you know?"

"Reminds me of philosopher Robert Nozick," said Fergus.

"Oh." Joane returned her eyes to the bright blue sky. "I like the idea of flying through the air like a modern day pterodactyl and snatching up vermin with my talons."

Fergus asked, "What happens to you when the falcon version of you dies?"

"I hope I turn to dust and my life-energy is scattered through the cosmos like all the other animals." Joane sat up again. "Fergus? What animal would you want to come back as?"

"I'm not sure… I kinda liked being a human."

"When I was in guardian angel training, I heard about this one department that suggested a sort of soul-recycling program…"

"Recycling program?" Fergus raised an eye-brow.

"Yeah! You know, like with paper; shred old paper into tiny bits, get it wet, make a pulp, press it flat – new paper!"

"Ah, I get it. Or maybe it's like the water cycle, spend some time in the clouds, rain, collect in a puddle, evaporate back to the clouds."

Joane smiled. "Speaking of the water cycle, did you know some of the water that is in the clouds right now used to be dinosaur urine?"

Fergus smirked. "Never thought about it like that, but I suppose that makes sense."

"Isn't this planet amazing? Why would I want to spend time anywhere else?"


One day in early spring, Mephistopheles called Sock into his office. More accurately, he leaned back in his chair, snapped is fingers, and Sock appeared on the other side of the office door.

A curvaceous lady demon with straight black hair and lizard eyes greeted Sock, "Are you Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski?"

Sock blinked at her. "I am. What am I doing here?"

She glanced at the papers on her clip board. "It says here you've been slow to meet quota."
"Well, it's been hard…" Sock began.

The demon cut him off, "Let me give you some advice. When you're choosing your mark, you pick someone who thinks that they are a worthless, untalented burden on society. Then, you just agree with them. Easy."

Sock avoided looking at her. "I didn't choose Jonathan. He was assigned to me."

The black haired demon tossed her head and shrugged. "Well, then you just have to make sure he falls deliriously in love and then suffers a tragic loss. Nothing like heart-break to make someone do the irrational."

Sock drew small circles with the toe of his boot. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

The door to the office opened. "Keep up the good work, Tom," Mephistopheles said to the squat demon as he showed him out the door. He turned to see who was next. "Sock, so glad you could come on short notice."

Sock followed his boss into the office.

"So, what do you think of my new secretary?" Mephistopheles asked as his returned to the chair behind his desk.

"Well, she's –"

"Not your type, I know. But, on to the reason I called you down here."

Sock spoke quickly. "I can explain! See, there is this guardian angel that keeps -"

Mephistopheles stiffened. "Guardian angel? Protecting your charge?"

"No, Jonathan's dating…"

"A human is dating an angel?"

"No, the angel is -"

"Never mind, kid. I don't care." The manager of Hell leaned forward. "I've been talking to some of the CEOs and they tell me that the way to increase productivity is to give employees the illusion of autonomy."

"Sooo, what does that mean?" asked Sock.

"For you, it means that you get to choose your next target."

"You mean, I won't be haunting Jonathan?"

"Oh-ho, you're still on the hook for Jonathan. But, since you seem in no hurry to get that task done, in addition you will be causing one suicide every two months for the humans of your choosing."

"How will I choose?"

"That's up to you! The joys of autonomy."

Sock pouted.

"You'll have access to our file system," Mephistopheles said with a grin and a wave towards the mountains of cabinets. "Your first official suicide is due next week. After that, two whole months to plan your next kill and keep chipping away at Jonny Boy's sanity." Mephistopheles stuck out his hand for Sock to shake.

Sock stood shook his boss's hand. As he walked out the door, he paused. "Wait… I thought you said you had no concept of time."

"That's what Lizella's for," Mephistopheles explained. "Now, off you go…unless you want to start searching the files right away."

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

The demon lady gave him a side-ways wink. "Remember what I told ya," she cooed.