Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (3 page)

Gabriel disconnected. He turned and took in his apartment like a thirsty Angel takes in light. If he was being sent out, he could be gone years, maybe decades. Gabriel tasted the anguish in his mouth. He would be without his own consciousness the entire assignment. His mind would be his own for one moment, and then decades could pass without his knowledge. Then he would wake up back in Heaven. His actions during his assignment would be unknown to him until he interacted with a comm panel. Then, the rain of images would overwhelm him, just as they overwhelmed every Archangel. There would be a long period of recovery while another Archangel began a review. It would be even longer for him to recover emotionally. And after that he would welcome his surroundings once again. Methodically, Gabriel sat in his favorite chair, a heavy cotton arm chair so dark red it was nearly black. The chair was overstuffed yet firm. it seemed to melt around and support him.

Now and again, when work was slow, Archangels were allowed to revisit their visited worlds, mostly to review and confirm reports from oversight. Archangels were also mandated to review evolving civilizations, to become familiar with technology, and to record the rise and fall of nations. Decades ago, he had looked in on a living relative of Muhammad, twenty three generations removed. The woman, unaware of her lineage, had settled in Cyprus after the death of her father. She was struggling to bring something called, 'interior design' to that region of the world. Gabriel had observed her over the course of several days, noting her thoughts and actions, weighing them against her religious upbringing. What had caught Gabriel's attention was her obsession with ordering a chair. She knew that even within her own apartment, she would be judged against her creative style. Over the course of many days she had settled on this chair. After delivery, the descendent of Muhammad had moved the chair to many locations before deciding its true place. The day after she had moved it last, Gabriel had reached into her, found her emotional satisfaction, attachment, joy, and love for this chair. Love for a chair. Rubbing both his hands over the chair arms, he allowed the sensation of the fabric to command his tactile senses. Gabriel recalled her emotional memory and knew he had made this memory his own. The melody of distant memories was sweet. He allowed himself to swim inside these emotions. Her pride, his pride, her joy, now his joy revisited swelled within Gabriel. There was no sensation quite like this in Heaven. Gabriel had witnessed the creation of gun powder, control of the sea, the advent of flight, nuclear weapons, mass communications, and through currency debt — the enslavement of mankind. Few enough memories were sweet.

He stood and scanned his living quarters. Gabriel recalled where he had first seen these terrestrial items. He created most of them from memories of his past visits to Earth. Because Gabriel could not recall first person memories from his visits — all of his paintings were from a third person perspective recalled from panel reports. Each was a scene Gabriel found striking while reviewing his own actions. It was difficult, at times to remove himself from the image. Two were of Mary: one from the moment she had accepted and embraced her fate; the other of the moment her and her child had first shared eye contact. Gabriel had included more surrounding into the image of Mary and child. It seemed impersonal now. Gabriel realized he had failed to appreciate his belongings often enough. He touched a corner of the painting's frame, shifting the perspective and zooming closer to their faces. Gabriel moved the reference point, in three dimensions, before settling on a pleasing vantage. The faces of Mary and her future were now the main objects in the frame. There was a small fire nearby to keep them warm. The flames reflected in Mary’s tears. Gabriel allowed himself to feel her love. From his living quarters a universe away, Gabriel's eyes teared too. There were few emotions as powerful as this. The joy here was almost too much even for an Archangel.

Gabriel allowed himself equal measure of interest of each display and item. The journey of emotion was a gift Gabriel didn't mind. The Principles could wait a few minutes more. Next Gabriel walked into the bedroom and within his chest of drawers pulled out his favorite article of clothing, a worn, blue cotton, long—sleeved pullover. He lay the pullover onto the bed and removed his starched white tunic. Noting the worn seams and collection of minor holes, he pulled his blue friend over his head and onto his body. As always, the faded blue cotton lent its warmth and self confidence to Gabriel. He smiled, flattening the fabric against his torso. Walking back to the main door of the apartment, Gabriel turned and looked over the apartment one last time. On the adjacent wall was another small area of glossy white. Without looking, Gabriel covered it with his right hand and closed his eyes. When Gabriel opened his eyes, the apartment was bare, white washed, floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Everything was gone, and along with it Gabriel's joy. He left his apartment and headed for the park to meet Michael.

As Gabriel walked along the wide stone paths, he began to open his mind, broadcasting mental calls for Michael. He waited for his dear colleague to reply. Each classification of Angel had their own connectionless method of communication. Within each class, Angels could convey basic communication over distance, mind to mind. The fewer the Angels in a class, the easier it was to segregate, and communicate over greater distances. This communication was based on the same principle of prayer.

"Got your message,” Michael's words came into Gabriel's mind.

"I'll be there shortly, my friend,” Michael added.

"Thank you, my friend,” Gabriel replied.

'Friend'. Gabriel pulled that word from his mind and held it like a familiar flower. In Heaven, friends were rare and beautiful.

Gabriel found an empty bench and sat down. Michael's voice was becoming more clear as he neared Gabriel's location.

"I'm on the usual bench,” Gabriel sent to Michael.

"I know it well,” Michael responded seconds later. He added, "You're a creature of habit.”

Gathering his thoughts and putting away his fears, Gabriel felt he was close enough to Michael to begin a more detailed dialogue.

"The Principles have summoned me,” Gabriel began.

"I was hoping this was you telling me you'd set your kitchen on fire again trying to cook human food,” Michael said.

Gabriel could feel Michael’s smirk.

"No, not this time.” Gabriel added, "Although..that was an interesting story.”

After a short pause, Gabriel continued, "They're sending me back.”

In an oasis, Gabriel had possessed a boy in which to observe Muhammad for the first time. It was an important assignment and great care and patience had to be used to ensure success. Watching Muhammad, Gabriel had appreciated the esthetics of the trees — the shade making the sunlight dance like a thousand knives. Using the boy, Gabriel had watched Muhammad come and go and became comfortable with that tree. Here, on his park bench in Heaven, Gabriel recalled some of that same comfort. The trees, although different species, offered a similar arrangement and flow of foot traffic under its shade.

"Worrying and recalling a past journey in the same instant,” Michael's voice bounced around Gabriel's mind. Michael added aloud, "You're a complicated Angel, Gabriel.”

He was standing in front of Gabriel now. Michael sat down arm's distance away and on Gabriel's left and put his outstretched hand on Gabriel's shoulder.

“Tell me what has happened,” Michael thought into Gabriel's mind.

“I was summoned this morning,” Gabriel began again. "And I have to appear this afternoon.”

“At least you won't have to wait long to know why they've called you,” Michael said.

“They’re sending me somewhere, I can feel it.”

“Have an idea where, this time?”

"The Banthid have but one message, but I'm a judge there,” Gabriel said. "I delivered three messages to the Spark, where Urial is judge. And has been no indication it is time to go back. The humans have but one last message, and I have had no indication there either. Have you delivered a final message?"

"No one has,” Michael responded. "I've checked.”

Their mental correspondence fell into a comfortable rhythm.

"Do you think this is a new universe? A new race?" Michael asked.

“We haven't seen the signs, and it's just too soon for any new race to send a messenger,” Gabriel noted.

They sat silent for a moment watching worker Angels walk about the park. Occasionally they would catch a sideways glance. Common benches were not made for Archangels.

Gabriel broke the silence, “Michael, how much do you remember of your journeys to other worlds?"

"As energy?" Michael asked. “Little.”

Gabriel was about to open up to Michael in a way no other Archangel had, to his knowledge, and this gave him pause.

"I've done terrible things out there. Terrible things.”

"We all have,” Michael thought as he looked down onto the dirt.

"Especially those we possess."

Michael paused as he contemplated his next words.

"Gabriel, while we are energy, we are the unmitigated instrument of God. You know this." Michael thought with earnest. "We have no control over our actions and this is by design. Our missions are too structured, important, and precise for us to blunder around with our emotions and empathy raging."

Michael turned and looked at Gabriel for the first time. "We are weapons of epic proportions, you more than I. Gabriel, one day, and it may be today, you will be called upon to end a world, releasing every soul therein. You, alone, have this added ability. You. The Archangel Gabriel."

Gabriel was already looking at Michael. “God doesn't give a task for which we are unprepared, and I'm not prepared to eradicate a world, omnipotent with or without my own will.”

Each looked out into the park for pleasant views to relieve the awful thoughts of deeds performed and yet to be performed. The silence went on for minutes.

"Metatron is going to be there,” Gabriel said. "Don't see him a coming to adjudicate a birthday party."

"Metatron?" Michael thought with raised eyebrows. "Really? How did you come to —“

Gabriel cut him off. "A terrified Angel, Sophrael, when delivering the summons.”

It was Michael's turn to be short and direct. "Do not repeat that to anyone else. It would be her end."

Retreating into his own mind, Gabriel imagined Michael knew more about the inner sanctums of Angel hierarchy. He deleted the entry, removing it from his external memories.

"If Metatron is there to transplace you this must be important within or without our realm,” Michael commented after another long pause. “I’m aware of both Spark and the Banthid. The Spark are cognitive and ego neutral — they are on a path of co-mergence. The Banthid, of the three sentient species, are the most cognitive aware. Their last message is still being judged, clearly too soon for more instruction."

"Then the humans again?" Gabriel asked aloud.

"We both know the humans — a lost, diverse, consuming mix of individuals whom rarely come together. The consensus is two of the seven past messages have been completely lost among them.”

“Agreed,” Gabriel added. "Time is drawing short, I must comply soon.”

"Do you want me to be there?" Michael asked.

Gabriel could feel the familiar warmth pour from Michael, but he would not allow another Archangel to witness his transplacement. Gabriel had no idea how he would appear at the moment of change. He didn't need another detail to worry over, but he was grateful for Michael.

"No, Michael, thank you. This time with you is fortitude enough. You have given me reason when I had none.”

Michael nodded and put his left hand upon Gabriel’s right giving added meaning to his thoughtfulness.

"Gabriel, are you in order within this realm?” Michael asked.

"Yes, before I came to meet you, I put my belongings in order.”

Michael sat back across the long bench. "You blanked your apartment? I was hoping to borrow it in your fashion. You're such a decorator.”

They laughed.

"Archangel Gabriel the Decorator. Don’t you dare repeat that,” Gabriel mused.

"I don't have to,” Michael chuckled.

Their exchange was at an end, and each stood to leave. Michael turned toward Gabriel and placed his hands on Gabriel's shoulders. Gabriel recognized the formal pose and mirrored Michael's physical gesture. As they looked into each other's eyes, they began to emit light.

"Gabriel, I'll pray on your transplacement and transformation."

Passing Angels stopped to watch the two mammoth figures embrace as Michael thought aloud. "Have a safe and successful mission.”

Each offered a private prayer ending the embrace.  Gabriel was refreshed with Michael's friendship and warmth.  Now there was work to do.  Gabriel cleared his mind, surgically removing all other distractions.  The tasks ahead were clear to him. Gabriel reoriented himself and began his walk to the summons.  Once he eyed an appropriately deep doorway alcove, Gabriel removed his blue cotton friend and donned the typical gold-trimmed white tunic of the Archangel order.  He disposed of his dear old friend, the long-sleeved pullover, and the shoulder bag in a nearby particle resync bin.

“Apologies, my friend,” Gabriel thought to his disposed pullover as he continued walking. “There will be others.”