To Mr. Terry Pratchett and all discworld readers: sorry if this fic reminds you of something. I know I'm WAY too obsessed with discworld...
I don't own the Bible (and all Bible characters whose names are mentioned in this fic), and although I don't know who does, I'm sure they would, upon seeing this fic, strenuously deny any relationship between the Bible and it.
I don't own Death (as in the tall, bony entity with a solid belief that black
is fashion's last word), Mr. Pratchett does. And, if Death Himself has any objection
to my portrayal of him in this fic, I would really appreciate it if He could
come and have a word with me while He is off duty, and during the daytime, please.
The Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah (2)
Michael stood beside the city gate. Since everyone had gone to see the upcoming match, the place was relatively deserted. There was enough time for Michael to come to the conclusion of what had gone wrong. Christ had said that the ethereal plane there was cluttered with demons. Michael, however, could not feel the ethereal plane at all. It was as if some 6th or 7th sense had shut down temporarily. Keeping a distance from the city, he teleported himself to Abraham's place.
The event was never recorded because there were some things that an angel shouldn't do, and one of them was to wake up the whole house at 3 a.m.. His God missing and his comrades in peril had put Michael into a savage mood, and the sight of his face made Abraham wish he had been a better man in his life, or at least the previous one.
"Mercy, o sir!" He squeaked. "We have been living our lives according to the instructions of the Most High God, we have given money to the poor and…"
"All right!" Snapped Michael. "I just need some firepower here."
A brisk search of the house yielded a total of 17 kitchen utensils, which would have looked pretty formidable to a newborn lamb. Michael took all of them amidst Sarah's tearful lamentations. "How am I supposed to make bread in the morning? And that one's for serving vegetables, I'm tellin' you!"
"Don't worry," Said Abraham, he wasn't sure if he should feel happy or not about the fact that Michael now carried all his knives. "He said he'd have them all returned by morning."
Michael also asked for a tracker, and got a small, dubious looking dog that Noah must have picked up by mistake during the Great Flood. Having equipped himself as best as he could, he disappeared to the gates of Sodom again.
The guards at the city gates first saw a small dog that looked like an overused mop (or an overused mop that looked dog shaped, there wasn't much difference anyway). When one of them tried to kick it, his leg sprouted a kitchen knife. He found himself looking into 2 eyes in the darkness, which glinted like that of a super predator that lived on T-rexes. "I wish to fight with you." Said a voice. It didn't sound upset or angry. Just… urgent. That was quite enough for the guard, who had heard tales about werewolves. He dropped into the pool of unconsciousness like a bag of bricks.
"I forgot you were perishable." Said the voice, a trifle disappointed. The eyes turned to the second guard who was trying to remember his prayers to Beelzebub between clattering teeth. "I suppose you can do." Said Michael. "Come on, I badly need some practice."
3 seconds later, the guard found himself a great deal closer to ground level. The werewolf or fiend was standing quite uncertainly on him, saying mechanically, "Now, do you realize that you have been beaten by fair means?"
Suddenly, something in the guard's confused mind straightened out. "Hey, that was awesome!" He breathed. "Can I worship you?"
Michael sighed. This tactic, he decided, was rather wasted on the men of Sodom. He bopped the guard on the head with Sarah's rolling pin, and threw a towel to the dog. "Now help me find God and my friends, and I shall---" His brow wrinkled with the effort of thinking. "---Make thy descendents as numerous as the stars. You have my word."
Although it is true that animals can sense the angelic presence, the small, dumb brain of the dog could only register one fact: an excitable man was standing in front of him, carrying about his person a large number of knives. And it had better do what he said if it didn't want to wake up as a pair of fur gloves in the morning. Descendents were not one of its concern at the moment.
"Woof." It said, and sped off into the city.
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Let me illustrate my point with this. Said God, taking a 12-sided dice from the counter. Throw it. He commanded. The harlot did, and got a 3.
You see a 3. Yet I see all the numbers. Only humans see them as possibilities. I see them as facts. Only I've prevented all of them from facing up at the same time.
"I see." Said the harlot. "What purpose does it serve? Do you need to bring them upstairs with you?"
God was intrigued. It was the first time in His existence, or rather, in everything's existence, that someone was interested in how He worked. Most people were either busy telling Him what to do or waiting for Him to tell them what to do.
He was, in fact, rather enjoying Himself. The only damper was Archangel Uriel, who had looked so stony-faced that not even the whores dared approach him, and had even, for the past 30 minutes, had the audacity to tell God to hurry up for 3 times. The inconvenience was easily removed by some small fluctuation in space that relocated a whole bottle of viperbite (the most alcoholic drink known to be in existence) into the region of Uriel's bloodstream.
Two forces that govern humanity are observing this die. I convince them that only the side facing them is important and the rest don't exist. That is part of what I do.
"Hmm." Said the whore reflectively. She was now convinced that her potential client was some kind of swindler with a totally new approach to cheating. "Do you win a lot?"
No. No one is playing against me, anyway. They all like to believe that I'm not involved. The forces that watch the die like to think that they are the ones playing the game.
More like a behind-the-scenes accomplice, thought the whore to herself smugly.
However, I can't let them have their own way all the time. One of the forces wants the outcome to be 1, while the other wants the outcome to be 12. If they can't have what they want, they get bloody furious with me.
"Make it land on 6, then." Suggested the whore, feeling herself on firm ground again when it came to double-crossing.
Yet they are not the only ones watching the die. There are others, but they don't encounter each other because they are watching different sides of the die. So, whatever I do, someone gets bloody furious. However, this doesn't bother me at all. What I can't stand is sometimes someone tries to destroy the other sides of the die to make sure that only 1 side, and 1 outcome, exists.
"But how can a die be one-sided?"
I suppose it is rather hard to picture. Said God. Perhaps I should call each side an extension of time? Take yourself as an example. Your life in this world is finite, but in worlds governed by slightly different forces, other you's exist. If you add the time of all of them together, the total amount of life you possess is infinite.
"Would I ever be able to meet them?"
No.
"No asking them for a bit o' cash either, I suppose." Said the whore acidly. "Are they decently well-off?"
Some of them are.
"I've always thought that if I lived in a different world, I could perhaps become a queen."
And what would you do, pray?
"Dunno," Said the woman vaguely. "Make some rules so that people can worship whatever god they want without being burnt at the stake? Persuade people that it's good and normal for men and women to get married? And I can employ people to patrol the streets and beat up anyone who doesn't do what I say, of course."
This is not a speculation, I guarantee you. Said the Lord. He rose. Thank you for your time.
"Where are you going?" Cried the harlot, as a clear image of winged money fluttered across her mind.
To see to the other you, of course. Many of this city's time extensions will be destroyed, and it's up to me to restore the number to infinity. You have already helped in constructing one of them.
"Crazy nut. I should have known…" Muttered the harlot as the Lord left. She was not the first one who said that on that morning, either. Since the Lord was absolutely fair, He had decided to interview everyone in Sodom on that same morning. He just had to space them out in many realities, or there would have been quite a lot of blasphemy in the same place.
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The City Square was bustling with people when Archangel Gabriel and Archangel Raphael were marched in by a sacrificial procession. "This is outrageous!" Shouted Gabriel to Raphael as some priests tied him to a stake expertly and heaped kindling around his feet. "They're going to burn me like a… a… " He was at a lost. "Anyway, they're going to burn me! I mean, God should have mentioned this in the prophecies, at least!"
"Can't sympathize with you, sorry!" Yelled Raphael as he was strapped to a piece of horizontal metal next to the stake by the Priests of Belial. "I'm going to be slowly roasted on a copper sheet as a bladed pendulum descends to slice me apart!"
"Ouch." Said Gabriel. He thought about it. "Which one hurts more?"
"Tell you about it later, maybe…" The 2 suddenly fell silent as a black-cowled figure materialized between them. It held an hourglass in a skeletal hand. For a moment the 2 angels thought that their supernatural power must have returned, but it hadn't. On the other hand, people who were about to die could see the Grim Reaper regardless of their ethereal powers.
HELLO, GABRIEL AND RAPHAEL. Said Death, in heavy tones that could bore holes in lead. I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU COULD LEND ME AN HOURGLASS AT THE MOMENT, COULD YOU?
"No, sorry." Said Raphael. "What's wrong?"
Death waved his hourglass vaguely. The top bulb was empty. DON'T ASK ME. EVERYONE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD NOW ACCORDING TO MINE. SOMETHING MUST HAVE SCREWED UP. DO YOU THINK I SHOULD TAKE IT BACK TO THE SHOP?
"Good idea, old fellow." Said Raphael, nodding like a maniac. "I'm sure they'll do everything they can to give you a new one. See ya."
In the stands, Satan and Belial could hardly believe their eyes as the procession passed by. "Hey, they look like Gabriel and Raphael." Remarked Belial lamely.
"What can they be doing here?" Said Satan in wonder. "Angels haven't been here for ages. Surely they're not just saying hello in such a fashion?"
"Let's possess someone and ask them." Suggested Belial. There was instantly the kind of hollow pause that sounded exactly like the one when the bad guy found out that there weren't any bullets in his gun. "Bloody Hell, I'm out of power!" He wailed.
"Same here." Said Satan. "We must resume contact with our people if we want to find out what's the matter. Here," He offered Belial a knife. "Stab yourself." He suggested.
"Huh?"
"So that you can get in touch with everyone else, you idiot."
"Well, I'm not going to do it. It's so messy!" Said Belial. "Why don't you do it?"
Satan sagged. "Easier said than done. So what alternative do we have?"
"Ask them about it?" Belial made a gesture towards Gabriel and Raphael.
You must be mad! There are hundreds of our people down there and we can't possess any of them." Said Satan. "But you're right. Let's get back to our base and draw up a precise plan."
10 minutes later, the demons returned to find that, to their relief, their priests still hadn't finished the invocations yet. They thanked themselves silently. "I say we rescue Raphael." Said Satan. "He wouldn't thrash about, for a start."
"I say we get Gabriel." Protested Belial. "You're just jealous of my sacrifice. Gabriel knows most of what's going on, at least. He's a sweet lamb as long as you are civil."
Satan glanced at the stake hurriedly. Gabriel was breathlessly insulting Satan and threatening everyone with the tortures of Hell, much to everyone's enjoyment. The demon decided that an alive, grateful Gabriel would be much better than an immortal, angry one who would accuse him in front of God in no time. "OK, let's get him, then. Meet you at the base."
A few seconds later, the plaza was filled with choking black smoke. The demons had granted the people of Sodom a great deal of infernal, forbidden knowledge, and one of them was the making of pepper spray. Belial sprayed the hysterical crowd with glee while Satan, wearing a glass visor, slashed a couple of his priests and cut the rope binding the angel. To his surprise, someone also pushed up to the altar where Raphael was bound and cut him loose. It was Michael. He had followed a convoluted path behind the dog that eventually led him to the plaza, chopping, dicing, slicing and scrambling anyone in his way with culinary efficiency.
In the smoke, it was absolutely important that Michael should not mistake him as his obstacle. "Follow me!" Cried Satan in a way that he hoped was friendly, and danced out of the stinging smoke, followed by many dreadful cries as Michael tried to find his way around.
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A bunch of sorry-looking destroying angels were kneeling before God's throne. They were the same squad who would later be sent to sweep through Egypt, but it seemed that apart from a lack of I.Q. (they couldn't even tell Israelites from Egyptians, for a start), they had no sense of direction as well.
"We couldn't find Sodom and Gomorrah." Admitted the head destroyer. "Um… I think we were at the right place, but they're just not there."
"They're pretty big." Described Christ. "And packed with people, just like… 2 big, obvious cities."
"Well, many demons couldn't find them, either." Said the second in chief. "They seemed to think we were responsible for vanishing everyone."
"Oh well," Said Christ. "Dude, where's the Lord when He's really needed?"
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"What, you're telling me that this city will be destroyed by sunrise?" Shrieked Satan. For the past 5 minutes, Michael had coldly told the demons what he knew while Gabriel and Raphael stood a safe distance behind, trying to look polite in Satan and Belial's house.
"The important point is, God is missing." Repeated Michael.
"Not sure if that's good or bad news." Said Belial blankly. "This is hardly fair! We have worked on this city for centuries and now you're destroying it without even askin' us! That's cheap, I tell ye!"
"Shut up, Belial." Said Satan while stomping on his subordinate's foot absently. "God's whereabouts is clearly a matter of cosmological importance, and we shall have to join forces to find him. We still have some of our people scattered around the city. Stay here while we gather them all so that we can search this place together."
Michael exchanged a hurried glance with his colleagues. "As you wish." He said.
The demons left the room. "And keep your fingers off our stuff!" Snapped Belial as he slammed the guestroom door. "Now, boss, why did---"
"Damnation!" Cursed Satan under his breath. "The utter jerks! Losers! We must find God first and appeal to him. It is our only hope!"
"I see what you mean." Said Belial meaningfully. They reached the streets and came face to face with the Priest of Satan, the Priest of Belial, and a solid wall of guards. Satan grabbed the arm of his priest.
"Your Worship, you are after 2 men who has escaped from the arena, I gather?"
"What do you know about them?" The 2 priests drew near eagerly.
"Well, they have just invaded my place! Please collect them and have them sacrificed as soon as possible. I'll lead the way." Said Belial.
Unfortunately, when they opened the door of the guestroom ceremoniously, there was no one and nothing special inside apart from a Michael-shaped hole on the wall. The 2 demons were speechless.
"This won't do." Sniffed the Priest of Satan. "My slaves have spent the whole night chopping up wood for the pyre. We can't let all this fuel go to waste."
"Same with us." Sighed the Priest of Belial. "We can't keep that pendulum swinging in the air! It'll go rusted if we can't have some blood on it soon."
"If Prince Satan can't have that pretty stranger," Said the Priest of Satan, eyeing the horrified Satan up and down with a hungry gaze. "This lean, mean one will at least temper his wrath. He fits the shape of the stake nicely, don't you think?"
"Then I'll have this squat one." Nodded the Priest of Belial. A couple of guards grabbed hold of the unresisting Belial. "If his face can't please the Dark Lord, the amount of blood he has certainly will. You're not one of us, are you?"
"What do you mean?" Said Belial, horrified. "Of course I'm one of you! I've attended every mass! Actually, I'm The One!" His pleas were ignored as he was manhandled out of the room.
"I swear by the name of Satan that I am one of your most faithful followers!" Whimpered Satan to the unmoved Priest of Satan. "I know all the prayers by heart! Even back to front! (Not difficult, since I've invented all of them) Try me!"
"I never saw you at any of our gatherings." Accused the Priest of Satan.
"Well, that didn't mean I wasn't there! On the contrary, I was usually noticed by everyone!" Protested Satan truthfully. He was also carried out by some dispassionate guards.
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Michael and Gabriel, heeding Raphael's advice to dress up as lepers, had the street all to themselves. They stumbled into a random tavern and, perhaps God thought that He owed them something, it was the right one, and Uriel was singing 'Hosanna in the Highest' at the top of his voice while dancing on the table spanking himself. He stumbled down when he saw the 3 icy angels. "Jeez!" He giggled, waving a bottle. "D'you know, there are pink nebulas all around you? By the way, have some of this stuff, it's capital!"
Gabriel sighed. "Uriel, how can I say this nicely? You're drunk!"
Before Uriel could reply with the conventional 'No I'm not', Michael punched Uriel's face in disgust. It was a very impressive punch, because at that moment, the power came back on again and his fist went right through Uriel's flesh and hit his soul head-on. Uriel's spirit stood up as his body crumpled. "Whoops. What on earth have I been doing?" He wondered.
"Can't help you there, sorry." Said Michael perfunctorily. "Go back to heaven now and Armageddon this accursed place. Gabriel, can you take this dog and the other things back to Abraham? I can't think of a good explanation. Raphael, we go with Uriel."
A split second later, Uriel was shifting the balance between space, energy and matter to manifest boiling sulphur right over the atmosphere that would, as he deemed, annihilate the cities in a haze of choking sulphur dioxide. However, since his mind was still preoccupied with the question of what other embarrassing things he had done after he got stoned, he made a slight miscalculation that caused tons of lukewarm banana-flavored chocolate to pour down in a single torrent, instantly drowning every living thing within the cities.
"Oops. My mistake." He blushed and peered down. The only person who had seen it seemed to be Lot's wife, so he turned her into a pillar of salt.
"Well, we did tell her not to look back." Said Raphael matter-of-factly.
Uriel did his calculations again, and blew the cities straight into Hell with an impressive rain of sulfur that no one noticed, which was too bad.
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Thousands cheered as the 2 priests re-entered the arena and tied the reluctant sacrifices to their respective altars. "I'm afraid we'll have to be quick," Said the Priest of Satan to the Priest of Belial. "People're getting impatient. Let's just do a short offering speech."
"O Prince of Darkness, pray accept this humble sacrifice of ours---" Began the Priest of Satan faithfully, tossing a burning faggot onto the pyre.
"Humble?" Screeched Satan. "I'll make you eat your words, you silly mortal!"
"O Mighty Lord of Chaos," Invoked the Priest of Belial reverently. "Pray look upon us kindly as we deliver unto you this sacrifice---"
"It'll take quite a lot to make me look at your pasty face kindly, you bumbling old fool!" Shrieked Belial through a rictus of pain. His back was getting uncomfortably hot.
"Any interesting last words?" Said the Priest of Satan hopefully. "'My god, my god, why have you abandoned me?' is quite popular."
"I already know why: I asked for it." Replied Satan with dignity as the flames engulfed him. "I was quite happy to be abandoned, thank you."
"Or you could try 'My god, into your hands I place my spirit!'. It's always quite well received." Advised the Priest of Belial.
"I would have said that if my hands were not tied up!" Screamed Belial. The blade was tearing his shirt into shreds.
"How about 'Forgive them, god, they don't know what they're doing.'?" Said the Priest of Satan. "I think it'll sound good on the records."
"I'll be blessed if I do!" Came the muffled reply from the blaze. "Though I must say you certainly don't know what you're doing!"
The people of Sodom noted with interest that the last words of one of them was 'I hope those angel fools find that blasted Uriel soon!' and that of the other was 'See ye in Hell!' They certainly weren't expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen, like earthquakes or darkened skies. But it did, and it came as a heavy shower of express-delivered tepid chocolate.
There was a shudder as the power ripped the every piece of brick and mortar of the city into the underworld, and hellish flames illuminated the sky. Everyone was suddenly staring at the sacrificial altars. 2 dark, dreadful shapes were tied there, their eyes burning like red coals. Rocks splintered and chains gave way with a tortured squeak as wings of night unfurled.
"Your sacrifice is most graciously appreciated." Sneered Belial as he sat up.
Satan licked spectral chocolate off a claw. "Well, I've tried sacrificing myself, and it's no big deal. Can't see what's all the fuss about it in Heaven, really."
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Somewhere in another reality, Sodom was still thriving like a termite heap under Empress Jezebel's reign. And, although it didn't become the kind of model city St. John described in revelation, it was quite pleasant to live in and was the first of its kind to have proper laws, policemen and some kind of liberty.
THE END
Author's note: Thanks for reading! If you enjoy this, I'll post more of my
old stuff here in the future as soon as I've rendered them presentable. Au revoir!
