Answers and stories copyright © 1997 by Grandma
The Prologue
| | It wouldn't do any good at all, Damien realized, to complain about the lighting. Complaining never fixed anything. Still, how could he write this stupid report without a light? He sat uncomfortably at his desk, his chin propped on his fists, staring at the wall against which his desk leaned precariously. The wall was an ugly bile green, with dirty brown waterstreaks and splotches of mold spattered across it as if someone had vomited on it and failed to clean it up. It was not inspiring. Damien thought glumly about his various complaints. His chair was too high, so that his feet dangled inches above the floor. It was also too wide, so that the edge cut sharply into his thighs. His desk was not only missing one leg, but it was too high (or else his chair was too short) so that his elbows were at right angles to his ears and his nose almost touched the surface of the paper upon which he was supposed to be writing. And the one measly lamp that did work was permanently fixed to the right side of the desk, so that his hand cast a long shadow over the paper and he had to write in the dark. How could anyone write a report under circumstances like these? The whole assignment was a disaster. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to go, and the client had taken his business elsewhere. Damien had done everything he knew how to do, but that idiot Joshua Whats-his-face who worked for the Competition had gotten the account in spite of all Damien's toil and trouble. What does the Boss want me to do? he asked himself. Force the guy to buy our package? Heh. Sighing, Damien lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. At the last possible moment, he remembered that the tilting mechanism was broken, and he lunged forward, banging his chin on the desk and biting his tongue. He cursed silently, although he couldn't really get up any enthusiasm about it. He had not quite recovered his balance when the tip of his cigarette fell into his lap at the precise moment his name erupted in a squawk of static from the loudspeaker in the hall. The feedback from the speaker echoed nastily in his ears as he jumped up and danced around the chair trying to find and squash the burning embers. Damien shivered in spite of the heat. The Boss wants this damned report, he thought. He caught himself just in time to avoid thinking what he really thought about what the Boss wanted. He had a headache, he decided. He absolutely did not want another assignment. He did not want to write the report about his last assignment. But the Boss calls and Damien comes running, sloppy report and all. So what's he going to do about it, Damien thought. Fire me? Heh. Don't I wish. Rebelliously, he stared at the open door, not moving in response to the summons. Lightning did not strike. After a few minutes, he sighed again and looked around his office. The filing cabinet had only one working drawer, so files were piled high on top of it. Files were stacked in the corners of the room, stacked on his desk, stacked under his desk. The whole office smelled of dust and smoke and mold and wet wood. He jumped when the loudspeaker again spat out his name. He went through his office doorway, morosely noting that the door still hadn't been fixed, so he couldn't quite shut it all the way. As he walked glumly down the hall, he tried to think of some excuse to get out of his next assignment. |  | Meanwhile, at approximately the other end of the universe, Joshua was watching a group of children at play. He couldn't hear them, of course, since they were out in the park and he was in his office, but the huge picture window in the wall beside his desk made it possible for him to watch all the children at once, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He leaned back in his upholstered chair, steepling his fingers and smiling to himself in satisfaction. He had just won another account, brought in another client, and he felt great about it. It had been touch and go there, for awhile, he remembered, but the Chief was right: the client was worth saving and the account was salvageable. He reached out and picked up the file copy of the report he had turned in only a few minutes ago. This particular account had great potential, and Joshua felt a bright streak of pleasure just thinking about it. He reached over to his filing cabinet and opened the third drawer, then filed the papers. As he shut the drawer, he saw that the children were playing what looked like a game of tag, and his smile widened as he watched. Suddenly the gentle chimes of the office paging system sounded, and he heard his name over the loudspeaker. Another assignment, he thought gleefully. He stood up, stretched, and smoothed back his hair, straightened his tie, and reminded himself not to run in the halls. It wasn't dignified. Joshua switched off the light and closed his office door as he left, hoping he wouldn't be back for a few days. He loved the excitement of meeting and winning new clients, and was more than ready for another adventure. He did remember not to run down the hall. |
Part II Answers and stories copyright © 1997 by Grandma
The Story | "You again!" Damien growled as he spotted Joshua sitting on a low wall at the edge of the new prospect's property. "What are you doing here? Doesn't your boss have any one else?" "Same thing you're doing here, friend," answered Joshua with a smile. He didn't offer to shake hands, Damien noted sourly. Probably afraid I'll infect him or something. "Was your boss terribly upset with you?" Joshua asked solicitously, dusting imaginary lint from his lapel. He looked up at the single fluffy cloud on the horizon. "Naw," Damien answered, shrugging. He scratched his ribs, looking around the neighborhood. Nice little burg, he thought. Why Joshua? I am sick to death of Joshua! "I'd rather hoped you'd get fired, Damien," Joshua said. "You're really not cut out for this sort of job." He glanced at Damien, but looked quickly away. Damien was picking his nose again. "Fired? Heh!" Damien said fervently. "There's no chance whatever of me getting fired. I used to be one of the best salesmen on staff." He shrugged, examined the product of his nose picking, and wiped his fingers on his pantsleg, grinning. He knew how that distressed ol' Josh. "I used to only lose one account out of about thirty, which is a far better than average record. Lately, though," he paused. "I dunno." He didn't add what he thought about it: I suspect the Boss is trying to demote me. Send me to the mines or something. Just what I need. "I know," Joshua exclaimed. "But you could always quit. It would sure make my job easier." He glanced at his watch. "He'd just hire someone else, Joshua," Damien said. He shook his head. "No, you know very well there's no way out for me, so there's not much use in talking about it." I can dream, though, he thought. Sometimes. "How'd you get hooked up with that firm, anyway?" Joshua asked. Damien looked at him in surprise. He hadn't ever thought about it. "Well, uh, the Boss told me you guys were going under," Damien replied. He grinned maliciously. "He also told me he could guarantee perks you guys never offered." His grin half faded as he shook his head dolefully. "Haven't seen any perks yet," he grinned wryly. "Haven't noticed you guys losing any business, either." "We've lost a lot more than we should have," Joshua admitted. "Personally, I think some of our agents don't really know what they're doing." He looked at his watch again. "I know what you mean," Damien said. "How'd you get started with your outfit?" "I signed up the minute I met the Chief," Joshua said cheerfully. "Have you met him?" Damien shook his head. "I can't even imagine working for anyone else!," Joshua went on. "I'll tell you, Dame, if you want to get out of your contract, give me a buzz. I don't have a lot of pull, but I can at least alert Personnel that you're looking." Damien thought about it for a moment, then shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that can't happen, Josh. I signed an irrevocable contract, and I'm stuck with it." I think, he added to himself. "Well, we'll see." Joshua smiled. He looked at his watch. "We'd better get started, I suppose. How do you want to work this? Do you want to make your pitch first?" "No," Damien said quickly. "I went first last time, and the Boss says that was probably why I lost the account." "No problem," Joshua said, standing up. He dusted off the seat of his trousers, and nodded genially at Damien. "Well, I'll be off, then." "Wait a minute," Damien said, putting out a hand. He almost touched Joshua's arm, but drew back at the last minute. Joshua stood perfectly still, raised his eyebrows, and looked down at Damien's extended hand. "Oh, close, Dame," he said softly. "Very, very close. One of these days..." He looked up at Damien and grinned. "Did you want something in particular?" "Um, yeah," Damien hesitated. "I'd like to watch you work, if you don't mind." Joshua seemed to think about it for a moment, while Damien watched warily. In the distance, he could hear some kind of bird twittering merrily. "The Chief won't mind," Joshua finally said. "But won't your boss have a fit if you pick up my ...mmm... sales techniques?" "Not if it made me a better salesman," Damien said defensively. "My boss isn't stupid, you know." He scratched his ribs again. "He isn't?" Joshua asked archly. "Could have fooled me!" Damien's eyes flashed and Joshua held up a hand to deflect the impending outburst. "Sure, Dame. If you want to watch, come along. But if you get in my way, you'll regret it, as you very well know." "I know the rules," Damien snapped. He looked around to see if his target was in sight. No. He glanced back to see Joshua looking at him intently, and raised his eyebrows in inquiry. "Okay, then," Joshua said softly. "Let's go." But Damien just looked at Joshua for several seconds. "I used to be pretty good at this," he finally said. "I know that, Damien," Joshua said gently. "I think you don't have the heart for it, that's all." "Hmph. The Boss says I've got a bloody bleeding heart," Damien muttered. "He thinks that's my whole problem." He scratchd his ribs again, harder this time. "We can talk about it later, Dame," Joshua said. "We have got to get going on this. We've only got half an hour, you know." "Yeah, I know," Damien said glumly. "They could give us a little more warning, couldn't they?" But Joshua didn't answer, and both of them immediately vanished. |
| Tommy came running around the corner of the house, raced through the flower bed, jumped over the front walk, and charged off down the sidewalk. The front door of the house opened and a young woman stepped out onto the porch, cupping her hands around her mouth before she shouted. "Tommy!" Tommy kept running, and his mother shouted again. "Tommy, you come back here this instant! Don't make me chase you, young man! Tommy!" Tommy kept running. "Damn kid," his mother muttered. She went back into the house and slammed the door behind her. Tommy kept running. "Well, Damien," Joshua said, materializing on the sidewalk in front of Tommy's house. He watched Tommy run. "There's our boy." "Looks like you've really got your job cut out for you, Josh," Damien said, appearing on sidewalk beside him. "This one's mine, fella!" "Well, we'll see, won't we?" They walked casually to the house and through the front window into the living room. The room was reasonably large for an ordinary tract home, with the standard living room sofa, easy chair, television set, coffee and end tables, lamps, pictures, carpet, and knick-knack-filled shelving. Damien and Joshua scarcely paid it any attention at all, but moved through the room toward the kitchen. Tommy's mother was standing at the kitchen counter, a drink in her hand. She looked as if she had a hangover. Damien grinned at Joshua, but refrained from speaking. Joshua shook his head sadly, and stepped up behind the woman just as she swallowed the last of her drink. "This is really good for Tommy, isn't it? Such a great mother I am." He whispered. She stuck out her lower lip and wiped it with the back of one hand while she carefully placed the glass on the sinkboard. "Well, I can't help it," she muttered. "It's not my fault his father won't support him." "But it is my fault that the kid comes home to a drunken mother and a filthy house and no dinner," Joshua whispered. "Shit!" she said, pouring another drink. Joshua waited patiently until she had added a few drops of water. "So now what?" he whispered, still behind her. She grabbed her bottle and glass and staggered over to sit down at the kitchen table. "So now I'll get soused out of my mind again, and then the kid will come home and say Hi, Mom, and I'll blow up at him because he isn't John." He placed a restraining hand on her arm as she lifted the glass to her mouth. "You know, I bet Tommy's really hurting inside," he continued. "His papa don't want him and his mama won't take care of him and he don't have no one to talk to or to cry on or nothing. Poor kid." The woman hesitated a moment, then took a large mouthful of her drink. "Yeah, well so what?" she thought. Joshua quickly triggered a memory of Tommy when he was about four years old, before his daddy had taken off with another woman. John had brought home a rocking horse for the kid, and he was rocking away for all he was worth, grinning so wide she was amazed that he didn't split his face. "Looka me, Mommy," he had cried gleefully. "Looka me!" Tommy had been such a good boy in those days. When she wanted him to do something, he did it cheerfully and willingly; never gave her any static about anything. Those were the days, she thought. She drank deeply from her glass and put it down on the table, noting that it was already more than half empty. "What'll happen to the kid if I don't get myself straightened out?" Joshua whispered. Tommy's mother sighed. "It'll be my own fault if he screws up his life," Joshua added. "I don't ever talk to the kid any more, and it's been a hundred years since I've even gotten up in the morning and fixed his breakfast for him. Poor kid." She sat there staring at her drink for a few moments, then got up and went to the bathroom. She examined her reflection in the mirror, wincing with dismay at what she saw. Abruptly she turned and went back to the table, falling heavily into the chair. "I been so busy feeling sorry for myself I haven't taken care of my own son," Joshua whispered. "What the hell kind of a mother am I, anyway?" The woman started crying, and lowered her head until her forehead rested on the table. She didn't hear the front door open, and didn't hear Tommy tiptoeing into the house. When he saw her crying at the table, he ran to her side, a look of concern replacing his look of wary defensiveness. "Mommy!" he cried, putting his hand on her shoulder, "What's the matter? Why are you crying? Mommy? Mommy?" "He really loves me," Joshua whispered in her ear, and she bit back the impulse to snap at her son. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Tommy," she cried. "I'm so sorry, son!" Tommy patted her back awkwardly. "It's okay, Mom," he said. "I know you were drunk and didn't mean it." She heard the tone of resignation in his voice. "I do love you, Tommy," she said, pulling back and looking into his face. He evaded her eyes. "Yeah, mom, I know," he said. "Why were you crying?" "Because I just realized how much I love you and how much I hate the way I've been treating you," she said. "I haven't been a very good mommy lately, have I?" "Not since Daddy left," Tommy grimaced. "But then, I haven't been a very good kid, either." "That's not true, son," she said softly. "You've been very good. It's just that when I'm drinking, I start to feel sorry for myself, and then I get mad at everyone, even at you, and even if you don't deserve it. I'm so disgusted with myself I could puke." She looked longingly at her drink, but didn't touch it. Tommy saw the look and his eyes saddened even more. "You think you're really gonna quit, this time, Mom?" he said. She winced. "This time?" Joshua whispered. "How many times have I put the boy through this scene?" "Yes, son," she sighed. She jumped up and poured her drink down the kitchen drain. Tommy's eyes gleamed as he picked up the bottle and handed it to her. She took it and lifted it to see how much was still in it. Almost half full. She hesitated, unwilling to throw it away when she knew she'd need it later. Tommy waited. She looked down at him. "Maybe I'll just store this under the sink," she said tentatively. She saw the hope in his eyes fade before Tommy looked away. His shoulders slumped. "Sure, Mom," he said flatly. "Sure, Mom," Joshua mocked. "So you can get drunk again and clobber the kid for wanting his dinner or wanting clean clothes for school or something equally unreasonable, right?" Her lip curled in disgust. "Tommy," she said firmly. "Look at me." He turned his head, his face carefully expressionless. She looked at him while she emptied the bottle into the sink. His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything until the bottle was empty, then he ran to her and threw his arms around her. She knelt and held him. "I really do mean it, Tommy," she said. "But I need help." "Mom," he said, "I heard on TV about this place for people who drink, it's called alcolics nominus or something like that. They help people who really want to stop drinking, Mom. You could call them and maybe someone there would know what to do." "I'm not an alcoholic," she snapped. "Sure, Mom," Joshua whispered. Tommy just looked at her, wrinkling his brow in a frown. He looked so much like his father, she thought painfully. "But I'll call them anyway," she said. "Just in case, okay?" Tommy hugged her tightly, and she picked him up and carried him into the living room, where she sat down on the chair beside the phone. She cradled her son on her lap, and picked up the telephone before she remembered that she didn't know the phone number. "I have to look up the telephone number," she said sheepishly. Tommy grinned hugely at her and shook his head. "I 'member it, Mom. It's one eight hundred five five five two one two one." I 'membered it for you." She kissed his forehead, then picked up the phone. "Tell me again, son," she said. Tommy repeated the number. "Hello," she said when she heard the voice on the other end of the line. "I'm.." she almost hung up, but Tommy was looking at her with huge, glowing brown eyes, and she couldn't bear to disappoint him. I must be drunk, she thought. "I gotta do this," Joshua whispered, "before I lose my courage." The person on the other end of the line waited patiently, as if she had waited before for callers to struggle for words. "I'm Melinda Sutter," Tommy's mother said. "And I'm an alcoholic. And if someone doesn't help me, I'm afraid of what I'll do next." The person on the other end of the line asked for her address, and Tommy's mother told her. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes," the voice said. "Think you can hold on that long?" "Yes," Tommy's mother smiled. "My son is holding me up." Joshua smiled gently at mother and son and signaled Damien that the time had come to leave. |
| Outside the house, Damien shook his head in astonishment. "I thought you were supposed to sell your goods to the kid," he said, bewildered. "I was indeed," Joshua said with evident satisfaction. "I think he'll buy it, too. This way I get two for the work of one." "Well, we'll see, won't we," Damien said smugly. "You didn't even pitch to the kid, so how can you expect him to buy your package? And don't call me 'Dame'." "As you said, Dame, we'll see, won't we?" Joshua said. "When do you plan to do your thing?" "Not until after the goody-two-shoes from the A.A. leaves," Damien said. "Unless they send the kid outside or something while they talk." Sure enough, shortly after the woman from Alcoholics Anonymous arrived, Tommy was sent outside to play while the adults conversed. Damien went to work immediately. Tommy was looking morosely at the mess he had made of the flower garden earlier in the day when he had been running from his mother. "Gee, it would be fun to dig a hole to China," Damien said. "The garden is already so bad Mom won't be able to fix it. I bet I could dig at least half-way to China before dinner time, if I hurry!" "I better not," Tommy thought. "She wouldn't like that and it might make her start drinking again." He sauntered down the front walk to the sidewalk, then sat down on the curb. A grey cat poked her head up through the drain grating. "Hi, kitty!" Tommy said, brightening. The cat looked at him warily. Tommy sat and watched the cat as it slowly emerged from the drain. The cat moved very slowly, as if it were looking for any excuse at all to run, but still wanted to be petted and soothed. Tommy didn't move a muscle as his eyes tracked the cat's movement. "If I jump up and yell at her, it'll scare that cat halfway to the moon!" Damien whispered. "I bet she can run like the wind." Tommy considered the possibilities for a moment, then rejected the whole idea. "But if I sit still and let her come to me, maybe she'll let me adopt her," he thought. "Maybe Mom would like a cat." He sat still and watched the cat approach him. Damien looked up at Joshua, who stood quietly watching, his hands in his pockets. Damien glared at him and he shrugged, grinning. Damien scowled and turned back to the boy. When the cat got close enough for Tommy to touch her, she seemed to look directly at Damien, and she froze for a moment before turning and fleeing down the drain. Tommy was disappointed, and stood up. He went over to the drain grating and knelt down, peering into the darkness below the grating. "Why'd you run from me, cat?" he asked plaintively. "I didn't do nothin' to you. I didn't even move," he added indignantly. The cat didn't answer. He saw her eyes, unblinking in the darkness below. Sighing, he got up and looked back at his house, then wandered down the street aimlessly. Damien and Joshua followed a few steps behind. When he got to the corner, Tommy stopped and sat on the curb again. "I could go to the park," Damien whispered. "Mom wouldn't know if I don't tell her." Tommy cocked his head to one side, considering. "Yeah, but if that lady leaves and mom wants me, she'd be mad if I cross the street and she might start drinking again," he thought. He got up and wandered back toward his house Damien gritted his teeth in frustration. "You've got about ten minutes left, Dame," Joshua said. "Don't call me Dame, okay?" Damien snapped. "I'll get him, don't worry." "I'm not at all worried, friend," Joshua said. "As far as I can see, there's nothing to worry about." "Why don't you go back where you came from, huh?" Damien snarled. "I can manage without your help!" He scratched his ribs again. Damned cat must have fleas, he thought. Joshua laughed. "So far as I can tell, Dame, I'm not helping you one bit." He looked fondly down at Tommy, who was still trying to lure the cat out of the drain. "Oh, get lost, will you?" Damien watched Tommy kneel down on the curb and look over into the drain. I need something really tempting, he thought. What is really tempting to a seven year old kid? Damned if I know! Damien stood lost in thought for several minutes. Tommy knelt on the curb, looking into the drain grating, making little cooing sounds and waiting patiently for the cat. Aha, Damien thought. If I can get the cat to scratch him, maybe that would do the trick! He hurried down the street. Joshua looked at his watch again. Six minutes left. The cat had emerged from the drain and was allowing Tommy to scratch her head when Damien returned, a switch in his hand. As soon as he got close enough to hit the creature, though, it jerked back and vanished down the drain again. Damien stomped his foot angrily. "Maybe the cat's just afraid of people," Tommy thought. "Maybe someone hurt her real bad when she was little." Tommy stood up, dusted off his knees, and looked at his front door again. His mom was still busy with the lady from alcolics nominus. The door was still shut. Tommy was getting hungry, but he decided to wait awhile. If the lady could get his mom to never drink again, Tommy was willing to be hungry for a long time. He wished his daddy were here. Mommy wouldn't have started drinking if daddy hadn't left them. Oh, well. He looked down the drain at the cat, who was just out of reach, then stepped back onto the sidewalk. He heard the women's voices and spun around to look at them, then started running toward his house. "I'll see you Tuesday night, then, Melinda," the lady from A.A. said cheerfully. "I'll call to remind you, if you'd like." Her short blonde hair glinted in the sunlight as the breeze ruffled it. "I'd like that, Tracy," Tommy's mother said. "I don't know how to thank you." Tommy heard a new note in his mom's voice, a note that excited and elated him. It sounded like his old mom, his real mom. He ran faster. "Don't worry about it," the lady said. "I remember what it's like to be where you are, and believe me, you're on your way to being where I am." She grinned and held out her hand. Tommy's mother hesitated, then reached out and hugged her. She hugged back, then stepped away. Tommy grinned happily. Everything would be all right now, he knew. Even if he couldn't have his daddy, his real mommy was back! He couldn't stop running, so he ran out onto the front lawn, whirling and leaping and shouting for joy. His mother and Tracy watched, laughing, from the doorway. "He's worth it, isn't he?" Tracy said softly, watching Tommy spin. Melinda nodded, still laughing at her son. "Time's up," Joshua whispered to himself. The car came careening around the corner, bounced off the automobile parked in front of Tommy's house, then plowed into Tommy himself. The women at the door froze in horror. "Damn, damn, and double damn!" Damien said. Joshua grinned at him, saluted, and vanished. Damien disappeared shortly thereafter, but not before the screaming started. He couldn't stand that noise; never could. Why did he have to wait for it? Why did he have to wait for it? Why? And how was he going to explain this one to the Boss? | |
Part III
Answers and stories copyright © 1997 by Grandma
The Epilogue
| Joshua sat in his spacious office, watching the children at play. Tommy fit right in with the rest of the kids; looked as if he'd been there for years instead of only hours. He has such an infectious grin! Joshua thought again about how well Tommy had done the work the Chief had assigned to him. His mother would recover from her alcoholism, remarry, and bear a child who would isolate the genes responsible for alcoholism and other addictions. And Tommy had made all the right decisions in the last crucial moments of his life. Not bad for a kid who had reached the age of morality only a month or so ago. Joshua leaned over and filed his copy of the report, then looked at his watch. He had been summoned to a committee meeting which was to start in just a few minutes. He grinned down at the children again, then left the office and headed for the conference room. When he opened the door, he was mildly surprised to see all the big brass already seated at the table. "Come in, Joshua," the Chief said genially. "We have a rather unusual case to consider, and we'd like your input." "Yes, sir, of course," Joshua said. "What can I do for you?" He stood respectfully at the end of the table, his hands at his sides, at ease. "We've heard a report about an ... er... ah... a fellow named Damien," the Accountant said. "I understand he wants out of his present contract and we were giving some thought to taking him aboard." Joshua raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that a bit unusual, sir?" he asked. "Well, yes," the Accountant confessed. "But I understand that until recently, he was one of the competition's best salesmen. I don't know what happened to him, but he hasn't been able to make a single sale in the last - what, seven centuries? Now, it may be that he's just not cut out for sales work, but it may also be that he's been trying to push a product he doesn't believe in. You know him, don't you?" Joshua nodded. "What do you think of him?" the Accountant asked. Joshua thought about it carefully. "Well, sir," he said, "I agree that he's trying to push a product he doesn't believe in. I think it's equally possible he just isn't suitable for sales work." "Well, we can't leave him unemployed," the Chief pointed out. "If we can't use him, that's fine; we know perfectly well that his boss will find something for him to do, if for no other reason that than he has no choice in the matter. While his people always have the option of voiding the contract, he has to honor it forever. Now, if this Damien is salvageable, maybe we should give him a shot." "Sir," Joshua said, puzzled. "I thought that once someone signed up with our competitors, the contract was irrevocable." "Not in the case of imps, Joshua," said the Accountant. "When the competitor opened his business, the imps had no choice in the matter. They were not willed creatures, remember. It's when they learn to exercise free will that they cause difficulties." "Exercise free will, sir?" Joshua's eyebrows raised again. Since when, he thought, did imps have free will? The Accountant sighed. "Yes," replied the Engineer. Joshua looked at him, astonished. The Engineer pursed his lips for a moment, then said, "The imps were not of our manufacture, son. And there's this tiny flaw in the design plan which - to avoid getting into technical details, we'll say it "kicks in" over the course of time." "Time?" Joshua echoed, increasingly bewildered. What did time, of all things, have to do with imps? "Imps, of course, are not temporal creatures," the Engineer went on. "Therefore, time should have no effect on them, any more than it does on you." Joshua nodded, still puzzled. He knew that. "However, their ahh..maker... overlooked one small but significant detail: when a non-willed creature is required to make decisions concerning temporal creatures, there inevitably comes the day," he chuckled at his wit. Joshua thought, I'm non-temporal...I make decisions concerning temporal creatures... He looked up sharply at the Engineer. "When it has to choose one course of action over another." The Engineer looked up at Joshua. "Are you following me, son?" "Yes, sir," Joshua said. "At least, I think so." The Engineer nodded. "Occasionally it happens that an imp recognizes that what it is doing is, shall we say, evil? - for lack of a better word at hand, of course. Then it just doesn't put its whole...ummm... heart into its work." "Are you telling me that an imp can decide not to do his job to the best of his ability...?" Joshua was astonished. "That's really possible?" "Sure is!" the Engineer nodded. "Even imps like to think well of themselves, you see. When it doesn't ... ummmm ... approve ... of what it is doing, it becomes infected with ... ummmm ...guilt, I guess we can call it, which is, of course the inevitable precursor of free will. In non-willed creatures, of course." The Engineer sat back and nodded in satisfaction. Joshua decided he'd have to think about that some other time. The Engineer noted Joshua's confusion, and added, "It's different with us, son. We were intentionally designed with a circuit for free will - it's expected that we'll eventually exercise it because we all have the same exposure to decision-making situations. But imps weren't intended ever to have free will. Their designer, as usual, messed around with and copied a design he knew nothing about." Joshua clamped his mouth shut to avoid gaping. The Attorney cleared his throat pompously. "I'm sure you know that as long as imps honor their contracts, we don't bother with them." Joshua turned to the Attorney, who nodded. "There's no point," he said, "Since they can't do anything other than what they are already doing. But this Damien has asked to be released from his contract, and his boss is in a real snit over it." The Attorney said. He shrugged. "He just appeared at the Gate as if he knew exactly where he was going. I'm told he specifically asked for you, by the way." Joshua shook his head, confused. "If he wants out of his contract, are we obligated to help him?" "Well, yes," the Accountant said patiently. "But imps are a special case, and they cause no end of trouble for us, no matter which firm they're associated with." "Trouble?" Joshua asked. "What kind of trouble?" "Well, for one thing," the Engineer said, "They don't really know right from wrong. They need extensive training, and we can't send them to school for it like we can send, say, humans." "True," the Accountant said. "And every time we get involved with an imp, we have to contend with all sorts of mischief and turbulence, which interrupts the routine no end. It can be a madhouse around here until they get themselves on track." "I didn't know we had any imps on board, sir," Joshua said, surprised. "Well, we don't call them imps in our firm," the Chief said. "But that's neither here nor there. What we want to know is, if we take on this Damien, are you willing to take him in hand until he learns the ropes?" "Of course," Joshua grinned. "That would be a real pleasure, sir!" The Chief looked at each member of his cabinet. Each nodded almost imperceptibly. "Do it," the Chief said abruptly. "Make sure you get him washed up first thing, Joshua. I can't stand the smell of the competition and won't tolerate it." "Yes, sir," Joshua said. It occurred to him that he had been asked if he were willing ... something that had never happened before. The idea that he might be making willed choices just boggled his mind. Still, it hadn't occurred to him to refuse, so ... "Thank you, Joshua, that's all," the Accountant said, turning to his paperwork for the next topic on the agenda. Joshua smiled, nodded, and turned to leave the room. "Oh, and Joshua?" the Chief said quietly. "Yes, sir?" Joshua said, pausing to look back at his Employer. "This one gets credited to your account, son," the Chief beamed. "To my..? Thank you, sir," Joshua said, and stepped out of the room. He quietly closed the door behind him, then stood in the hall for a few moments, his thoughts whirling. What account? "Could I be in line for a promotion?" he wondered. "Am I going to get a chance to live a human life? Have a soul? Have a son, maybe, like Tommy?" He took a deep breath, shaking his head to settle himself. "Will wonders never cease?" He chuckled at the idea. "Well, not around here, they won't! " Joshua could barely contain his delight as he hurried to his office. He knew Damien would be waiting for him, for things tended to happen rather quickly when the Chief made up his mind about something. He opened the door to his office and saw Damien's across the room. He was looking wistfully out the window at the children playing on the lawn below. Joshua walked quietly to Damien's side, and together they watched the children. Turning suddenly, Damien looked up at Joshua, and slowly reached out and actually touched Joshua's sleeve. Joshua smiled. There was a time, he thought, when that simple touch would have caused Damien intense pain. Might even have caused him to die the True Death. He wondered if Damien would ever tell him the story behind his conversion. He put his hand over Damien's hand, then turned back to watch the children, who were gathering together on the lawn, apparently to decide what game to play next. Tommy had an arm around two friends, and all three were whispering together. "He lied to me from the beginning, Joshua," Damien finally said softly. He wasn't talking about Tommy. "That's his job, Damien," Joshua replied gently. "He is the Father of Lies, after all." "Yeah." Damien sighed. After a few moments, he sighed. "What's next?" "The first thing is to get you cleaned up," Joshua answered. "We can't let you go wandering around the halls of Heaven smelling of fire and brimstone. Then we'll see about an assignment. I have no idea what they'll find for you to do around here, but I can promise you it'll be fun. It won't always be easy, but it will always be satisfying!" He took Damien's arm and steered him toward the office door. The angel and the imp walked arm in arm to the baptismal font, where Damien was cleansed and anointed and officially appointed Cherub Number A424395 (A for Acquired). finis |
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