Ficlet: On Transmutation (and Tortoises)
Fandom Good Omens
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley
Rating: G
Word Count: 775. It got away from me.
Notes: For anthean, who requested "Aziraphale in history, any time period you like, but must include a turtle." I cheated, since this technically involves a tortoise.
Summary: c. 1859. In which Aziraphale reads the latest bestseller, and he and Crowley take a trip to the Galapagos.
Yeah, I fail at keeping my own deadlines, but only by an hour, which is pretty good all things considered. This is definitely on the rambling and unpolished side, I'm afraid (as I expect they all will be). And as for the content, well - in my defense, I had to write exam questions for a paleoanthropology class this weekend. I've had evolution on the brain. Given time, I could totally have written a lengthy C&A-mess-about-with-evolutionary-theory-fic - I mean, obviously the reason they've yet to work out who perpetrated the Piltdown hoax is because it was Crowley. *cough* Feel free to point out any typos, wonky grammar or gross inaccuracies.
"Not very bright, are they?"
"Hmm?" said Aziraphale, looking up from the signed 1st edition he'd been poring over. Crowley had taken a moment to sneer at its contents, and was now feigning disinterest. Or so Aziraphale assumed. Well, he wouldn't have agreed to this sojourn in the Galapagos if he'd been really disinterested.
Crowley gestured with his wine glass. A few feet away, a massive turtle was eying them with what Aziraphale chose to interpret as reptilian curiosity.
"Oh," he said. The turtle tilted its head and continued staring.
"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"
"I do apologize, my dear fellow," said Aziraphale, not feeling particularly contrite. It wasn’t polite, of course, but then again, it usually wasn't a good idea to listen too closely to everything Crowley said. One often got oneself into trouble that way. "But it is rather engrossing. Quite ingenious, really."
"It's bollocks," said Crowley.
"Well, yes," said Aziraphale. "Nevertheless, it is quite remarkable."
Crowley snatched the book out of his hands. "'Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life'" - quite dramatic, aren't they, these natural philosophers. Do you remember that night in Pella with Aristotle and-"
"Quite," said Aziraphale, frowning at the memory.
"That's right," said Crowley, giving him a rather fiendish grin. "You never did like Macedon."
"I love all of His children equally," said Aziraphale, bristling. Though really, the way the Macedonians spoke Greek should have been considered a venial sin at least. "The borders of nations and empires are irrelevant to us."
"I'll bet," said Crowley, in Macedonian.
Aziraphale suppressed a shudder. "Anyway, what were you saying about the turtle?"
"Tortoise."
"Tortoise?"
"It's a tortoise, not a turtle," said Crowley helpfully.
"So I'd gathered. But how do you know that it is, as you say, a tortoise?"
"I've read his other book," said Crowley, handing The Origin of Species back to him. "It didn't weigh as much."
The tortoise - née turtle - meanwhile, had lost interest in them and lumbered off to gulp down water from a nearby stream.
"Apparently they're good for a fry-up, and the babies make a nice soup," Crowley continued, sipping his wine. "He also says they're difficult to ride." *
"Ride?"
"Ride."
Crowley topped off both their glasses, and they sat in silence for a few moments, no doubt contemplating the unfathomable mysteries of naturalists and tortoises.
Once his glass had been emptied yet again, Crowley said, "I suppose I will have to encourage it."
"Riding tortoises?" asked Aziraphale. That was low even by Crowley's somewhat lapsed demonic standards.
"No," said Crowley, rolling his eyes, "I meant this natural selection lark."
"Ah. I take it you haven't received any, er, communications, then?"
Crowley shook his head. "Have your lot developed a policy about it yet?"
"No," said Aziraphale. "I think they expect it to all blow over soon enough."
"It's a bit persistent, though, isn't it? This transmutation of species nonsense. How long has it been since that bloke with the giraffes?"
"Lamarck? This is a bit more sophisticated, I must say. It's all very - logical, really. It makes a good deal of sense. He has this idea about finches that's really quite-"
"It's all well and good talking about birds and tortoises, but what does he say about them? That's what people - including ours - are going to be concerned about."
"He's a bit reticent on the subject."
"I expect I'd be a bit reticent about telling people their grandfathers were monkeys."
"That's not how it works." He paused. "Er, is it?"
"Obviously not. We know how it works. We were there."
"I meant hypothetically."
Again they lapsed into thoughtful silence.
"I do wonder though," said Crowley, watching the tortoise disappear off to wherever it was tortoises went, "why it makes so much sense. This idea of his. I mean, why give them all this evidence that leads them to the wrong conclusion. Makes you wonder what He's playing at."
"I really couldn't say," said Aziraphale. "It serves some Ineffable purpose, I suppose. Freedom of thought and choice and belief and all that. Best not to-"
"-question it. Yeah, I thought you might say that."
Aziraphale smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Shall we head back to town, my dear? Find something to eat, perhaps?"
"Alright," said Crowley, rising to his feet and stretching. He had a sense that this was not the last time they would have this conversation - the subject was bound to impose itself on human affairs from time to time - but he was happy to let it drop, for now. It was giving him a headache.
"As long as it's not tortoise," he added.
Finis
* Charles Darwin, The Voyage of the Beagle:
The inhabitants believe that these animals are absolutely deaf; certainly they do not overhear a person walking close behind them. I was always amused when overtaking one of these great monsters, as it was quietly pacing along, to see how suddenly, the instant I passed, it would draw in its head and legs, and uttering a deep hiss fall to the ground with a heavy sound, as if struck dead. I frequently got on their backs, and then giving a few raps on the hinder part of their shells, they would rise up and walk away; - but I found it very difficult to keep my balance.
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley
Rating: G
Word Count: 775. It got away from me.
Notes: For anthean, who requested "Aziraphale in history, any time period you like, but must include a turtle." I cheated, since this technically involves a tortoise.
Summary: c. 1859. In which Aziraphale reads the latest bestseller, and he and Crowley take a trip to the Galapagos.
Yeah, I fail at keeping my own deadlines, but only by an hour, which is pretty good all things considered. This is definitely on the rambling and unpolished side, I'm afraid (as I expect they all will be). And as for the content, well - in my defense, I had to write exam questions for a paleoanthropology class this weekend. I've had evolution on the brain. Given time, I could totally have written a lengthy C&A-mess-about-with-evolutionary-theory-fic - I mean, obviously the reason they've yet to work out who perpetrated the Piltdown hoax is because it was Crowley. *cough* Feel free to point out any typos, wonky grammar or gross inaccuracies.
"Not very bright, are they?"
"Hmm?" said Aziraphale, looking up from the signed 1st edition he'd been poring over. Crowley had taken a moment to sneer at its contents, and was now feigning disinterest. Or so Aziraphale assumed. Well, he wouldn't have agreed to this sojourn in the Galapagos if he'd been really disinterested.
Crowley gestured with his wine glass. A few feet away, a massive turtle was eying them with what Aziraphale chose to interpret as reptilian curiosity.
"Oh," he said. The turtle tilted its head and continued staring.
"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"
"I do apologize, my dear fellow," said Aziraphale, not feeling particularly contrite. It wasn’t polite, of course, but then again, it usually wasn't a good idea to listen too closely to everything Crowley said. One often got oneself into trouble that way. "But it is rather engrossing. Quite ingenious, really."
"It's bollocks," said Crowley.
"Well, yes," said Aziraphale. "Nevertheless, it is quite remarkable."
Crowley snatched the book out of his hands. "'Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life'" - quite dramatic, aren't they, these natural philosophers. Do you remember that night in Pella with Aristotle and-"
"Quite," said Aziraphale, frowning at the memory.
"That's right," said Crowley, giving him a rather fiendish grin. "You never did like Macedon."
"I love all of His children equally," said Aziraphale, bristling. Though really, the way the Macedonians spoke Greek should have been considered a venial sin at least. "The borders of nations and empires are irrelevant to us."
"I'll bet," said Crowley, in Macedonian.
Aziraphale suppressed a shudder. "Anyway, what were you saying about the turtle?"
"Tortoise."
"Tortoise?"
"It's a tortoise, not a turtle," said Crowley helpfully.
"So I'd gathered. But how do you know that it is, as you say, a tortoise?"
"I've read his other book," said Crowley, handing The Origin of Species back to him. "It didn't weigh as much."
The tortoise - née turtle - meanwhile, had lost interest in them and lumbered off to gulp down water from a nearby stream.
"Apparently they're good for a fry-up, and the babies make a nice soup," Crowley continued, sipping his wine. "He also says they're difficult to ride." *
"Ride?"
"Ride."
Crowley topped off both their glasses, and they sat in silence for a few moments, no doubt contemplating the unfathomable mysteries of naturalists and tortoises.
Once his glass had been emptied yet again, Crowley said, "I suppose I will have to encourage it."
"Riding tortoises?" asked Aziraphale. That was low even by Crowley's somewhat lapsed demonic standards.
"No," said Crowley, rolling his eyes, "I meant this natural selection lark."
"Ah. I take it you haven't received any, er, communications, then?"
Crowley shook his head. "Have your lot developed a policy about it yet?"
"No," said Aziraphale. "I think they expect it to all blow over soon enough."
"It's a bit persistent, though, isn't it? This transmutation of species nonsense. How long has it been since that bloke with the giraffes?"
"Lamarck? This is a bit more sophisticated, I must say. It's all very - logical, really. It makes a good deal of sense. He has this idea about finches that's really quite-"
"It's all well and good talking about birds and tortoises, but what does he say about them? That's what people - including ours - are going to be concerned about."
"He's a bit reticent on the subject."
"I expect I'd be a bit reticent about telling people their grandfathers were monkeys."
"That's not how it works." He paused. "Er, is it?"
"Obviously not. We know how it works. We were there."
"I meant hypothetically."
Again they lapsed into thoughtful silence.
"I do wonder though," said Crowley, watching the tortoise disappear off to wherever it was tortoises went, "why it makes so much sense. This idea of his. I mean, why give them all this evidence that leads them to the wrong conclusion. Makes you wonder what He's playing at."
"I really couldn't say," said Aziraphale. "It serves some Ineffable purpose, I suppose. Freedom of thought and choice and belief and all that. Best not to-"
"-question it. Yeah, I thought you might say that."
Aziraphale smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Shall we head back to town, my dear? Find something to eat, perhaps?"
"Alright," said Crowley, rising to his feet and stretching. He had a sense that this was not the last time they would have this conversation - the subject was bound to impose itself on human affairs from time to time - but he was happy to let it drop, for now. It was giving him a headache.
"As long as it's not tortoise," he added.
Finis
* Charles Darwin, The Voyage of the Beagle:
The inhabitants believe that these animals are absolutely deaf; certainly they do not overhear a person walking close behind them. I was always amused when overtaking one of these great monsters, as it was quietly pacing along, to see how suddenly, the instant I passed, it would draw in its head and legs, and uttering a deep hiss fall to the ground with a heavy sound, as if struck dead. I frequently got on their backs, and then giving a few raps on the hinder part of their shells, they would rise up and walk away; - but I found it very difficult to keep my balance.