Another little something
Friends
Even though it was already late in the evening, the pub was almost empty. Some people, apparently, decided to make an early exit while they still could. In fact, there were only Reg, Will, another guy they had never seen before, and Thumbs, the bartender.
'You know,' said Reg, 'his thumbs must be twice as long as any I've seen.'
'Fancy that,' said Will. 'I myself never go around noticing people's thumbs. Anyways, that's why he's called Thumbs, you know?'
'He's not actually called Thumbs,' Reg observed. 'It's his nickname because of the way he handles the glasses. And yes, they are long, but I'll have you know that opposable thumbs are the high point of evolution. So he must be in a way more human than we are.'
'Sure,' said Will. ‘Finally someone to tell the world what long thumbs mean. Apart from all the penicentric hypotheses.’
There was a bit of silence, then Reg asked:
‘So what are you gonna do?’
Will shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I mean, now that it’s all, as they say, official…’ Reg added rather helplessly.
‘Yeah,’ Will nodded, ‘got that. But it doesn’t seem like I’ve got much choice, you know? I’ll just… go. When my time comes, of course.’
‘But listen,’ Reg said urgently, ‘it’s all going to be different. Um, in the meantime. Before going. Now it seems like half the country is leaving, and possibly more. Admittedly, it also means that there’ll be a lot of… free stuff, but you’re not the guy for looting, I know you’re not. Hey, it’s going to be hell here.’
‘Yes, but, you know, that just reminds me.’ Will’s eyes flared. ‘First of all, I think you have to stick to your beliefs…’
‘…or absence of them,’ Reg helped.
‘Fine!’ the other man snapped. ‘And plus-when all’s said and done, what’s so clever about just sweeping away all the right folks and leaving this place to rot and violence?’
‘That was sort of, um, the essence of it. You know, the righteous will inherit the kingdom of heaven. Or suchlike.’
‘Well, I never!’ Will downed the rest of the beer in one go. ‘And the rest can just bloody well sod off, huh? Only before, you know, if you didn’t inherit anything, you could at least get a horse, and something to stick in nasty people’s eyes or soft parts, and then you went and built yourself a handsome asset base. Or maybe you got killed by someone else who also happened to be a bit disillusioned and also bigger and faster than you. But now?’
Reg thought it over. ‘Now you could do the same thing, I guess, with most folks gone,’ he said. ‘Only instead of a horse you should get yourself a car, because a horse only has one horsepower. And you’d probably need a gun, because see, all the government seem to be on the final page, too, if you know what I mean.’
‘Sure, just like in the Crusades. Only it wouldn’t be the same, not with nothing to look forward to! People didn’t go after the Holy Sepulchre just to pinch a bit for themselves and the folks at home, Reg, they had faith. Well, presumably.’ Will made a pause to inhale. ‘And how do they manage it anyway?’ he demanded.
Reg finally rebelled. ‘Hey,’ he said indignantly, ‘why is it like I’m the bad guy all of a sudden? What did I do to you, tie you down and whip you and tell you not to believe? Come on.’
He rose-a bit unconvincingly-and headed towards the door. William followed him after some hesitation.
‘See,’ said Reg didactically, swaying from the sidewalk to the empty lanes and back, ‘I’m sure we can arrange… matters so that you can go, too.’
‘I’m not going! I didn’t believe before and I didn’t… don’t believe now.’ Will insisted.
‘What, even with these things around?’ Reg pointed to a large sign that had a red arrow and an all-caps line that said REGISTER FOR EARLY SALVATION HERE. ‘I mean, there are these… conscription offices almost all over the city, and you still don’t believe?’
‘Especially now,’ said Will obstinately. ‘God’s supposed to work in mysterious ways, but somehow he either doesn’t work at all, or he works like that, you know, in giant brushstrokes which you have to be insane not to see.’
‘I don’t understand this,’ Reg moaned. ‘What’s so bloody difficult about having a quiet faith deep down that your soul is immortal? Well, I don’t care. I, for one, believe in your soul, and I don’t want you to stay back.’
‘That doesn’t matter, Reg,’ Will objected, ‘for all they know you could believe in everyone, but that doesn’t mean they need to stuff their heavenly crafts, or whatever, with every bugger you’ve ever happened to lay your eyes on.’
‘I don’t care,’ Reg said. A car went by and someone shouted at them something unpleasantly short about how people of unorthodox sexual preferences had a difficult time in front of them. ‘Up yours, moron,’ said Will.
They entered the hall. It was pleasantly cool and there was a figure behind a table, feverishly typing something. The figure’s gaze was affixed to the monitor in front of it.
‘Hi,’ said Reg. ‘We’re here to ask about some procedures, please.’
‘Do give me a moment, please,’ said the figure, ‘just let me finish with this bill of lading.’ After some more typing it hit Enter very resolutely with a triumphant air and said: ‘Uh-huh! Let’s see how you like that, mister I-can-take-them-all-and-there-will-be-space-left-for-the-pets! All booked and not even taking any luggage!’ The creature turned to Reg. ‘You were saying, sir?’
‘You’re an angel, right?’ Reg inquired with an uncanny straightness.
‘Indeed,’ the manager muttered smoothly. ‘Just call me Tariel.’
‘Very well, Tariel. My friend here,’ Reg said, while Will pretended he wasn’t interested, ‘doesn’t believe in God.’
‘My, my!’ said the heavenly person worriedly. ‘That would seem to present a bit of a problem, indeed. You see, we are only at liberty to offer our Early Vacation package to people who are, so to speak, solid of faith. Adamant. Unwavering. Stanch. Resolute. And with the rate of subscription-conscription, as some deign to call it, ha-what it is, very likely we will not have any slots left by the end of the month.’ It clamped its hands.
‘What about last-minute conversions?’ Reg insisted.
‘Yes, well, you know how these things work,’ replied Tariel with a little uncertain smile. ‘One day you’re sneaking along slowly through life like a wounded sloth, and then all of a sudden your existence is full of meaning and you march proudly into the welcoming embrace of the Aeternity.’
‘How do you do that?’ asked Will.
‘What?’
‘How do you pronounce Eternity with a leading A? And weren’t you sceptical just now about all these people who are late to subscribe?’
‘Oh,’ the angel made a polite cough, clearly designed to gain a little time. ‘The A, it’s… a habit by now. Gives words a stronger ring. As for sceptical, oh no,’ he shook his head vehemently, ‘no. We have ample space for anyone who can add to, um, the team spirit.’
‘Fine, fine,’ Reg said. ‘Understood. So, Tariel, how does my friend get on the… gravy train?’
‘I really couldn’t tell, sir,’ said the creature apologetically. ‘Believe me, I would like to help. And it would be very easy if your esteemed friend here believed, of course. We are being unusually lenient to our clients as it is, and I’m sure we don’t want to drag more people into the Kingdom kicking and screaming. That might upset some of the more legitimate subscribers.’
‘Now it’s the capital K in Kingdom…’ Will said.
Reg advanced on the angel and said quietly:
‘How does one convert last minute?’
‘No!’ Will cried. ‘Hey! Don’t give me any of that caretaking nonsense! Things have to be done with respect, you know!’
Tariel sighed. ‘I am afraid, sir,’ he said solemnly, ‘that your friend has quite correctly summarised the situation, even though I have a smidgen of suspicion he may have been referring to something else. This has to be done either with respect, or not at all.’
‘I don’t believe this!’ Reg cried. ‘You just said you were transporting a shit… some airborne vehicle-load of people into the beyond, and my friend here, just because he has his weird principles, doesn’t qualify? But can’t you respect the irreversibility of his decisions?’
‘We certainly can,’ the manager said peacefully. He licked the tip of his pen and wrote something random on a piece of paper. Tariel generally looked a bit nervous and uncomfortable. ‘Without doubt, the strength of your friend’s resolve is quite, quite commendable. But I am sure you will also understand that the subject against which he has made such an irreversible decision is, ah, the very matter I am positioned here to represent. With respect, sir, it does not seem that your friend is eligible to enter the kingdom of Heaven.’
‘And even the fact that I can speak for him and say he’s got this immortal soul won’t help?’ Reg asked.
‘Unfortunately, no, sir,’ said Tariel with another sad sigh. ‘It has to be a personal application, and we have cancelled salvation by proxy approximately half a thousand years ago.’
‘At least will he get there when it’s all over… here?’
‘Oh, that, sir, is a difficult question,’ Tariel responded. Now he was definitely having a hard time. ‘You see, Heaven, by virtue of having a rather constant temperature, stays more or less the same volume, unlike, um… the lower region. It is therefore rather conceivable that once the Early Vacations are all handed out, there will be no space left. Later there will of course be sorting procedures, intended to establish the background of all participants, and perhaps-I say this merely to indicate that a possibility always remains, you see, and not because I infer there was an error in judgment-perhaps some people will be relocated in the general downward direction. But it will not be a lot.’
‘So for all intents and purposes my friend Will…’
‘Your friend will quite possibly remain, er, dead, sir,’ Tariel managed.
Reg glared.
‘I meant my friend Will with a capital W!’
‘I am so sorry, sir,’ the angel said. He sounded sincerely upset. ‘Perhaps your friend wants to apply to our competitors. If he does it with sufficient haste, I understand there is a package of rights and exemptions from certain tortures which will apply for the effective term of confinement.’
‘Which is forever,’ said Reg monotonously. Will didn’t say anything. Neither did Tariel.
They were all silent for a moment. Then Reg said: ‘I want to withdraw my application, then.’
‘What?’ Will said, flabbergasted. ‘Are you, are you, are you insane? Who needs these silly gestures?’
‘Yes,’ Reg said, after a little pause. He seemed to have arrived at some definite conclusion. ‘I don’t want to go if he’s not there.’
‘This is… a rather unorthodox request, sir,’ Tariel said carefully. ‘Although such things have been known to happen. You are certain you do not want to reconsider?’
‘Quite certain,’ Reg said happily. ‘I mean, I won’t know if I’m dead anyway, and if we go up, it will be the two of us.’
‘Childhood friends, eh?’ said Tariel with a sudden tired familiarity.
‘More or less, yeah,’ said Reg.
‘I seem to recognise the pattern.’ The angel rummaged in one of his drawers and finally withdrew something Reg recognised as his Early Vacation application. ‘So you’re taking it back, huh?’
‘Reg,’ Will said weakly, ‘what on Earth do you think you are doing, and why?’
Instead of answering, Reg snatched the sheet from Tariel’s hand and tore it in two halves.
‘Does that annul it?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Tariel gravely. ‘But you can shred it, just to stay on the safe side, lest it grab you to the skies by your ankles when you least expect it. I assume you are not interested in our Seventh Sky lottery?’
‘Nah,’ said Reg just as Will said, ‘Yeah.’
‘What?!’ Reg exclaimed. Tariel smiled a shade enigmatically. ‘Well,’ he proffered a little ticket, ‘have a go.’
Will scratched the surface. Underneath it were the words: ‘IT IS YOUR LUCKY DAY, SINNER! THIS DOES NOT ONLY ABSOLVE YOU OF ALL YOUR SINS BUT ELEVATES YOU DIRECTLY TO CLOUD LEVEL NINE!’
‘O-oh!’ said Tariel appreciatively, ‘that one commands a very fine view!’ He wanted to say something else, but saw Reg’s face and, emitting a little gurgle, stopped.
Will looked at Reg. ‘Well, what do you think of that, man? Always living in the fast lane, huh?’ Reg didn’t say anything.
There was a minute of silence.
‘Ah, well,’ said Will with a shrug. ‘I guess you should just give it to the next bugger who comes ‘round, to avoid all the paperwork. Let’s go, Reg, we’ve got some crusading to do.’
He tossed the ticket to the manager, and the two friends left. Tariel watched them go. Then another man came in. He was a bit ill at ease and he kept pricking his extraordinarily long thumbs nervously.
‘Listen, I mean, oh, hi. Please,’ he said timidly, ‘d’you think it’s easier for a bartender to get into the kingdom of heaven, or the camel? I mean… Relative to the camel, who has higher chances? The camel, or… you know?’
Tariel looked at the man, and then at the lottery ticket that was still clutched in his hand.
‘I think, sir,’ he said slowly, ‘that today can be safely said to be the luckiest day of your life.’
Even though it was already late in the evening, the pub was almost empty. Some people, apparently, decided to make an early exit while they still could. In fact, there were only Reg, Will, another guy they had never seen before, and Thumbs, the bartender.
'You know,' said Reg, 'his thumbs must be twice as long as any I've seen.'
'Fancy that,' said Will. 'I myself never go around noticing people's thumbs. Anyways, that's why he's called Thumbs, you know?'
'He's not actually called Thumbs,' Reg observed. 'It's his nickname because of the way he handles the glasses. And yes, they are long, but I'll have you know that opposable thumbs are the high point of evolution. So he must be in a way more human than we are.'
'Sure,' said Will. ‘Finally someone to tell the world what long thumbs mean. Apart from all the penicentric hypotheses.’
There was a bit of silence, then Reg asked:
‘So what are you gonna do?’
Will shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I mean, now that it’s all, as they say, official…’ Reg added rather helplessly.
‘Yeah,’ Will nodded, ‘got that. But it doesn’t seem like I’ve got much choice, you know? I’ll just… go. When my time comes, of course.’
‘But listen,’ Reg said urgently, ‘it’s all going to be different. Um, in the meantime. Before going. Now it seems like half the country is leaving, and possibly more. Admittedly, it also means that there’ll be a lot of… free stuff, but you’re not the guy for looting, I know you’re not. Hey, it’s going to be hell here.’
‘Yes, but, you know, that just reminds me.’ Will’s eyes flared. ‘First of all, I think you have to stick to your beliefs…’
‘…or absence of them,’ Reg helped.
‘Fine!’ the other man snapped. ‘And plus-when all’s said and done, what’s so clever about just sweeping away all the right folks and leaving this place to rot and violence?’
‘That was sort of, um, the essence of it. You know, the righteous will inherit the kingdom of heaven. Or suchlike.’
‘Well, I never!’ Will downed the rest of the beer in one go. ‘And the rest can just bloody well sod off, huh? Only before, you know, if you didn’t inherit anything, you could at least get a horse, and something to stick in nasty people’s eyes or soft parts, and then you went and built yourself a handsome asset base. Or maybe you got killed by someone else who also happened to be a bit disillusioned and also bigger and faster than you. But now?’
Reg thought it over. ‘Now you could do the same thing, I guess, with most folks gone,’ he said. ‘Only instead of a horse you should get yourself a car, because a horse only has one horsepower. And you’d probably need a gun, because see, all the government seem to be on the final page, too, if you know what I mean.’
‘Sure, just like in the Crusades. Only it wouldn’t be the same, not with nothing to look forward to! People didn’t go after the Holy Sepulchre just to pinch a bit for themselves and the folks at home, Reg, they had faith. Well, presumably.’ Will made a pause to inhale. ‘And how do they manage it anyway?’ he demanded.
Reg finally rebelled. ‘Hey,’ he said indignantly, ‘why is it like I’m the bad guy all of a sudden? What did I do to you, tie you down and whip you and tell you not to believe? Come on.’
He rose-a bit unconvincingly-and headed towards the door. William followed him after some hesitation.
‘See,’ said Reg didactically, swaying from the sidewalk to the empty lanes and back, ‘I’m sure we can arrange… matters so that you can go, too.’
‘I’m not going! I didn’t believe before and I didn’t… don’t believe now.’ Will insisted.
‘What, even with these things around?’ Reg pointed to a large sign that had a red arrow and an all-caps line that said REGISTER FOR EARLY SALVATION HERE. ‘I mean, there are these… conscription offices almost all over the city, and you still don’t believe?’
‘Especially now,’ said Will obstinately. ‘God’s supposed to work in mysterious ways, but somehow he either doesn’t work at all, or he works like that, you know, in giant brushstrokes which you have to be insane not to see.’
‘I don’t understand this,’ Reg moaned. ‘What’s so bloody difficult about having a quiet faith deep down that your soul is immortal? Well, I don’t care. I, for one, believe in your soul, and I don’t want you to stay back.’
‘That doesn’t matter, Reg,’ Will objected, ‘for all they know you could believe in everyone, but that doesn’t mean they need to stuff their heavenly crafts, or whatever, with every bugger you’ve ever happened to lay your eyes on.’
‘I don’t care,’ Reg said. A car went by and someone shouted at them something unpleasantly short about how people of unorthodox sexual preferences had a difficult time in front of them. ‘Up yours, moron,’ said Will.
They entered the hall. It was pleasantly cool and there was a figure behind a table, feverishly typing something. The figure’s gaze was affixed to the monitor in front of it.
‘Hi,’ said Reg. ‘We’re here to ask about some procedures, please.’
‘Do give me a moment, please,’ said the figure, ‘just let me finish with this bill of lading.’ After some more typing it hit Enter very resolutely with a triumphant air and said: ‘Uh-huh! Let’s see how you like that, mister I-can-take-them-all-and-there-will-be-space-left-for-the-pets! All booked and not even taking any luggage!’ The creature turned to Reg. ‘You were saying, sir?’
‘You’re an angel, right?’ Reg inquired with an uncanny straightness.
‘Indeed,’ the manager muttered smoothly. ‘Just call me Tariel.’
‘Very well, Tariel. My friend here,’ Reg said, while Will pretended he wasn’t interested, ‘doesn’t believe in God.’
‘My, my!’ said the heavenly person worriedly. ‘That would seem to present a bit of a problem, indeed. You see, we are only at liberty to offer our Early Vacation package to people who are, so to speak, solid of faith. Adamant. Unwavering. Stanch. Resolute. And with the rate of subscription-conscription, as some deign to call it, ha-what it is, very likely we will not have any slots left by the end of the month.’ It clamped its hands.
‘What about last-minute conversions?’ Reg insisted.
‘Yes, well, you know how these things work,’ replied Tariel with a little uncertain smile. ‘One day you’re sneaking along slowly through life like a wounded sloth, and then all of a sudden your existence is full of meaning and you march proudly into the welcoming embrace of the Aeternity.’
‘How do you do that?’ asked Will.
‘What?’
‘How do you pronounce Eternity with a leading A? And weren’t you sceptical just now about all these people who are late to subscribe?’
‘Oh,’ the angel made a polite cough, clearly designed to gain a little time. ‘The A, it’s… a habit by now. Gives words a stronger ring. As for sceptical, oh no,’ he shook his head vehemently, ‘no. We have ample space for anyone who can add to, um, the team spirit.’
‘Fine, fine,’ Reg said. ‘Understood. So, Tariel, how does my friend get on the… gravy train?’
‘I really couldn’t tell, sir,’ said the creature apologetically. ‘Believe me, I would like to help. And it would be very easy if your esteemed friend here believed, of course. We are being unusually lenient to our clients as it is, and I’m sure we don’t want to drag more people into the Kingdom kicking and screaming. That might upset some of the more legitimate subscribers.’
‘Now it’s the capital K in Kingdom…’ Will said.
Reg advanced on the angel and said quietly:
‘How does one convert last minute?’
‘No!’ Will cried. ‘Hey! Don’t give me any of that caretaking nonsense! Things have to be done with respect, you know!’
Tariel sighed. ‘I am afraid, sir,’ he said solemnly, ‘that your friend has quite correctly summarised the situation, even though I have a smidgen of suspicion he may have been referring to something else. This has to be done either with respect, or not at all.’
‘I don’t believe this!’ Reg cried. ‘You just said you were transporting a shit… some airborne vehicle-load of people into the beyond, and my friend here, just because he has his weird principles, doesn’t qualify? But can’t you respect the irreversibility of his decisions?’
‘We certainly can,’ the manager said peacefully. He licked the tip of his pen and wrote something random on a piece of paper. Tariel generally looked a bit nervous and uncomfortable. ‘Without doubt, the strength of your friend’s resolve is quite, quite commendable. But I am sure you will also understand that the subject against which he has made such an irreversible decision is, ah, the very matter I am positioned here to represent. With respect, sir, it does not seem that your friend is eligible to enter the kingdom of Heaven.’
‘And even the fact that I can speak for him and say he’s got this immortal soul won’t help?’ Reg asked.
‘Unfortunately, no, sir,’ said Tariel with another sad sigh. ‘It has to be a personal application, and we have cancelled salvation by proxy approximately half a thousand years ago.’
‘At least will he get there when it’s all over… here?’
‘Oh, that, sir, is a difficult question,’ Tariel responded. Now he was definitely having a hard time. ‘You see, Heaven, by virtue of having a rather constant temperature, stays more or less the same volume, unlike, um… the lower region. It is therefore rather conceivable that once the Early Vacations are all handed out, there will be no space left. Later there will of course be sorting procedures, intended to establish the background of all participants, and perhaps-I say this merely to indicate that a possibility always remains, you see, and not because I infer there was an error in judgment-perhaps some people will be relocated in the general downward direction. But it will not be a lot.’
‘So for all intents and purposes my friend Will…’
‘Your friend will quite possibly remain, er, dead, sir,’ Tariel managed.
Reg glared.
‘I meant my friend Will with a capital W!’
‘I am so sorry, sir,’ the angel said. He sounded sincerely upset. ‘Perhaps your friend wants to apply to our competitors. If he does it with sufficient haste, I understand there is a package of rights and exemptions from certain tortures which will apply for the effective term of confinement.’
‘Which is forever,’ said Reg monotonously. Will didn’t say anything. Neither did Tariel.
They were all silent for a moment. Then Reg said: ‘I want to withdraw my application, then.’
‘What?’ Will said, flabbergasted. ‘Are you, are you, are you insane? Who needs these silly gestures?’
‘Yes,’ Reg said, after a little pause. He seemed to have arrived at some definite conclusion. ‘I don’t want to go if he’s not there.’
‘This is… a rather unorthodox request, sir,’ Tariel said carefully. ‘Although such things have been known to happen. You are certain you do not want to reconsider?’
‘Quite certain,’ Reg said happily. ‘I mean, I won’t know if I’m dead anyway, and if we go up, it will be the two of us.’
‘Childhood friends, eh?’ said Tariel with a sudden tired familiarity.
‘More or less, yeah,’ said Reg.
‘I seem to recognise the pattern.’ The angel rummaged in one of his drawers and finally withdrew something Reg recognised as his Early Vacation application. ‘So you’re taking it back, huh?’
‘Reg,’ Will said weakly, ‘what on Earth do you think you are doing, and why?’
Instead of answering, Reg snatched the sheet from Tariel’s hand and tore it in two halves.
‘Does that annul it?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Tariel gravely. ‘But you can shred it, just to stay on the safe side, lest it grab you to the skies by your ankles when you least expect it. I assume you are not interested in our Seventh Sky lottery?’
‘Nah,’ said Reg just as Will said, ‘Yeah.’
‘What?!’ Reg exclaimed. Tariel smiled a shade enigmatically. ‘Well,’ he proffered a little ticket, ‘have a go.’
Will scratched the surface. Underneath it were the words: ‘IT IS YOUR LUCKY DAY, SINNER! THIS DOES NOT ONLY ABSOLVE YOU OF ALL YOUR SINS BUT ELEVATES YOU DIRECTLY TO CLOUD LEVEL NINE!’
‘O-oh!’ said Tariel appreciatively, ‘that one commands a very fine view!’ He wanted to say something else, but saw Reg’s face and, emitting a little gurgle, stopped.
Will looked at Reg. ‘Well, what do you think of that, man? Always living in the fast lane, huh?’ Reg didn’t say anything.
There was a minute of silence.
‘Ah, well,’ said Will with a shrug. ‘I guess you should just give it to the next bugger who comes ‘round, to avoid all the paperwork. Let’s go, Reg, we’ve got some crusading to do.’
He tossed the ticket to the manager, and the two friends left. Tariel watched them go. Then another man came in. He was a bit ill at ease and he kept pricking his extraordinarily long thumbs nervously.
‘Listen, I mean, oh, hi. Please,’ he said timidly, ‘d’you think it’s easier for a bartender to get into the kingdom of heaven, or the camel? I mean… Relative to the camel, who has higher chances? The camel, or… you know?’
Tariel looked at the man, and then at the lottery ticket that was still clutched in his hand.
‘I think, sir,’ he said slowly, ‘that today can be safely said to be the luckiest day of your life.’