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[deathandhumanresources]

Chapter 2 - Administrative and Clerical

As the pages of my book filled, progress on “The Plan” reached a fever pitch. Father’s groundwork was impressive when it was only sketches and doodles but the first draft of all Creation turned out to be more wondrous than any of us could imagine. The Djinn’s constructs were massive in their execution and the Angel’s philosophical designs imbued every structural cell with Father’s purpose. Each day, I grew busier processing the requests for names from every Angel working in the “Living Things” department. As the work grew more complex, with weirder and more diverse ideas arriving for my designation every day, I became more confident in my abilities. Before long, news of my efficiency reached the Upper Angelarium, where the Archangels gathered.

“Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for this?”  I asked the Cherub called Ornias as he held his creation towards me. “This one seems like plagiarism to me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Ornias replied, though I couldn’t help but hear a chiding in his voice.

“I mean you stole this design from other Angels. I think I’ve seen this tail before. I’ve definitely seen this bill...”

“I may have taken inspiration from a few of my fellow spirits but this design is an original.” The fat Angel’s snorting face puckered into a look of disingenuous offense.

“It looks like you just mashed five other animals together!” I grabbed the design by its webbed flippers. The thing turned its duckish, rattish head towards me and stared with curiosity. I placed it on the ground where it scurried behind Ornias’ rounded form. I apprehensively asked, “Is this a joke?”

“A joke?” Ornias spat, “Does creation seem funny to you?” In truth, neither of us knew if Creation sounded funny because neither of us fully understood the concept yet.

“Is it mammal or bird?” I probed, attempting to refocus the conversation. 

“Yes.” Ornias replied with so much indifference, that I wanted to reak wrath on the Angel’s stupid face. 

“I’m truly at a loss, Ornias. Perhaps you have a suggestion?”

“Well, I was sort of thinking we could call it a,” he choked as if stifling a laugh, “a Platypus?”

“Oh, come on!”

“Alright, alright!” Ornias guffawed as he reached forward and clucked me on my back with his palm. “Look, I somehow got this one past the Approval Department and all I need is a name to make it official. Wouldn’t it be the best if this thing ended up crawling around with all the other animals?

“Well,” I considered, “I don’t know...” In truth, looking at the creature made me understand comedy a little bit more. And it was cute.

“What do you say, old pal?” Ornias thrust his right hand forward in a gesture that all Angels agreed meant “mutuality.”

“We’ve never met before today, Ornias.” I abstained from returning the gesture.

“Think about it.” The Cherub plucked his weird design up from the ground and turned to leave. As they flew away, the creature wriggled in Ornias’ grasp to look at me again. I smiled and it shook, startled, before burrowing into hiding in the Angel’s arms.

“Erm... next!” I called to my constantly growing queue. I had set up my operations in a vacant cubelike room of the lower Angelarium. When I found the room, it invoked a feeling as though I had meant to be there all along. Inside the cube was a chair for me to sit and a desk for me to place my book. From the room, I allowed one Angel at a time to enter and present their creation to name. As always, the Angels queued naturally and rarely made a fuss.

The next Angel in line entered at my call and I was surprised to see that it was a Principality. For those of you not well versed in Angelic Hierarchy, the Principalities are the assistants to the other Choirs of Angels. They deliver messages and perform tasks for Angels too busy to complete those tasks themselves. They are the delegates and were designed by Father to be pushed around without much fuss.

This Principality had hair as gold as wheat (a plant designed just days prior) and skin the color of olives (a plant that hadn’t been designed yet but one I’m referencing retroactively.) Her physique was rigid and she towered over the other Angels in the queue behind her. Her wings were so soft that they resembled clouds in the distance. Her expression was one of annoyance, brought on by having to wait in a queue when there were other tasks at hand. 

“Hi there!” I greeted, somewhat fearfully. “I did not know Principalities were invited to create for ‘The Plan!’”

“I am Eremiel.” the Angel interjected, “I am not here on Creation business.”

“Ah.” I said “Well I am afraid that I am in the middle of naming every single living creature. Is there something I can help you with?”

Eremiel reached into a pouch slung around her bony shoulder. She produced a page of parchment that she began to hold out to me. Before I could take it, she snatched it back.

“Were you designed to be able to read?” She asked dryly.

“I have the gift of all languages.” I replied, confused, bemused, and anxious for what news Heaven had for me now.

“Good.” The Principality unceremoniously dropped the parchment on my desk. The page slid across the surface and landed in my lap. 

“They’ll see you after you’ve finished your duties for the day.” Eremiel spoke with vexation as she left the room. On her way out she bumped the next Angel in line, an impossibly beautiful spirit with a crown of light and holding a round rodent with enormous ears. Before the offended Angel could protest, Eremiel’s eyes widened and she gave a look that clearly said “Get out of my way or you and the rat will be broken for all of eternity.” The beautiful Angel cowered and Eremiel launched off into the higher Angelarium.

I unravelled the parchment in my lap and read the message within:

TO AZRAEL, ANGEL OF NAMES

YOUR PRESENCE IS DEMANDED

TO DISCUSS IMPORTANT MATTERS 

REGARDING YOUR FUNCTION AND PURPOSE

YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE HALL OF THE ARCHANGELS 

FOR JUDGMENT

AS SOON AS YOUR DUTIES FOR THE DAY ARE COMPLETE

BE PROMPT

SINCERELY,

GABRIEL, ARCHANGEL AND CHIEF MESSENGER

 “Urp...” Was all I could say as I let the parchment roll up and sway back and forth on my desk. I felt my face go pale. I don’t know how long I sat, silent and staring, before I heard a meek “Ahem” beyond my doorway. It was the beautiful Angel and its creation.

“Oh, er, next!” I called.

The Hall of Archangels stood at the top of the third sphere of the Angelarium. My work was mostly clerical so I hung around the bottom of the third sphere. The upper sphere was for Archangels and Principalities. Beyond the third sphere was the second sphere. That place was the work area of the middle management Angels: the Powers, the Virtues, and the Dominions. Above the second sphere was the first sphere, the upper management sphere. The first sphere was where the Seraphim, the Cherubim, and the Thrones worked closely with Father on “The Plan’s” most important projects. Above the spheres sat Father’s throne, where he shined his radiance on all Angels below him.

I nervously clutched my parchment of invitation as I approached the entranceway to the Hall. The landing for the upper sphere was paved with bricks carved from a porous grey stone that felt soft under my feet. Rounded outcroppings of the stone jutted from the walkway in symmetrical pairs leading from the landing and into the upper sphere. Prototypes for the aforementioned flowers adorned the outcroppings in a manner I found aesthetically pleasing. A massive silver arch marked the entry to the halls. Great, angled runes were carved deeply into the arch, spelling in a now-forgotten language, “DILIGENCE, VIGILANCE, GLORY.” 

The landing was bustling as Angels of all different Choirs launched and disembarked to and from the Heavens. Each spirit possessed a face of focused officiousness as they passed by and around each other on the walkway. Many of them held stacks of paperwork and they would bump gracelessly into one another, mumbling indifferent swears before rebalancing and continuing on. None of the Angels offered so much as a wayward glance at me as I shuffled uncomfortably towards the archway. I felt so out of place.

When I bypassed the arch and into the Hall, I looked above to see the walls and ceiling had been carved of the same soft, grey stone and painted with a mural. The art of the hallway depicted the Heavens, complete with all manner of Angel flying and smiling as they worked at the building blocks of Creation with hammers and chisels. A rendering of Father sat on his throne at the apex of the curved ceiling, his smile was the biggest. In his left hand, he held a sash decorated with the same runic font as the silver archway. The text read “PERFECTION.” In his right hand, he held a strange blue orb that I recognized as the initial design for “The Plan.” I did not notice it at the time, but the Djinn were not pictured in the mural at all.

I came to a series of turnstiles preceded by booths with Angels inside. I watched as visitors approached, spoke briefly with the booth Angels, and pressed past the turnstiles before resuming into the hallway. I puffed up my chest and attempted to imitate the zeal of the patrons around me. I approached a booth on the far end of the vestibule and stepped toward the turnstile.

“What’s your business?” the bored looking booth Angel asked blandly.

“Oh, er...” I fumbled with the roll of parchment at my side before passing it to the turnstile guardian.

“Mmm, yes.” He unrolled the note and studied it with nonchalance. I rocked from side to side on my heels for an awkward moment before he continued. “You are scheduled with Gabriel  in the Western Atrium. Do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m afraid not.” I meeped.

“Oh.” The Angel curled his upper lip, “A  tourist.” He hefted from his seat with a grunt of vexation and leaned over his booth towards me. He reached a slender arm past my neck in a manner meant to lead my gaze. “See the wisp of red cirrus cloud that stretches along the wall mural?” He did not wait for me to answer. “Follow that ‘round the rightmost corner and straight along until you reach the double doors labelled ‘Virtue and Punctuality.’ You’ll find the Chief Messenger’s office within.”

“Alright.” I murmured as I squinted towards the mural. I did not see red cirrus clouds. I turned back to the booth Angel to see he was regarding me with furrowed eyebrows.

“You can go along.” He chastised. With a nod of his head, he signalled to a line of equally annoyed Angels behind me.

“Oh.” I said and pressed at the turnstile. It did not move at first so I shuffled uncomfortably, trying and failing to look like I knew what I was doing. Finally, the arm loosened and I tumbled forward, almost falling to the floor. I pulled my wings around me in embarrassment and hustled into the reconvening crowd beyond the gate. I felt overwhelmed by the roaming crowd and was instinctively drawn to the wall and out of the way of the bustle. I inspected the mural for the wisp of red cloud described by the booth Angel. At first, I found no evidence of such cirrus and I felt a panic rise inside me. After a moment, I noticed a streak of cloud, more pink than red, cast behind the drama of the painting and across the cosmos. I followed the path around the corner into a straightaway that appeared to go on indefinitely. The hall had many pairs of doors across from each other on either side of the walkway. As I strolled passed, I couldn’t shake the curiosity to open one of these doors and look inside. 

The red cirrus on the wall lifted onto the ceiling of the hallway and led to an extension of the main hall’s mural. The color pallet from the previous painting shifted to a radical use of greys and reds. The whisping cirrus fed into a large black stormcloud that loomed over the extension of the hallway. Vibrant flashes of lightning illuminated the backdrop of the scene and made many of the boisterous storm clouds look like violent cosmic explosions. When I stopped to admire a detailed expression of cloud, I noticed the painted silhouette of an armor-clad angel amongst the dramatics. Its outstretched wings matched the curvature of the stormy display behind it and it raised its arm high above its head. In its hand, it held a long, menacing sword that extended high into the heavens above it. A streak of blue lightning extended from a nebulous point in the storm to meet the Angel’s sword where it curled coyly toward the tip of the blade. I had not noticed before but the scene depicted in this hallway’s mural was populated with the silhouettes of many menacing Angels, each dressed in a similar armor and each held a long-tipped sword. My sense of wonder towards the illustration slowly became one of apprehension. I pulled my wings closer around me.

The bustle of busy spirits slowed and thinned out as I continued down the straightaway. I walked slowly, craning my head to either side to read the designations above each approaching doorway. “Virtue and Punctuality, Virtue and Punctuality,” I repeated to myself, trying my best not to forget what the rude booth Angel had told me. To my dismay, none of the doors on either side of the hall included either of those words. Many of the doors instead read similar titles, like “REGIMENT AND RULE” or “CLASSIFICATION AND CARTOGRAPHY.” As I wandered, I began to get a little confused. It wasn’t until I meandered to the set of double doors at the end of the hall before I realized I had reached my designation. As clear as day, the words “VIRTUE AND PUNCTUALITY” hung in a flowing gold font over the doors’ brick and mortar archway. I should have figured the Archangels would signify their meeting place in such a glorious manner.

I did my best to stifle my nervousness and pushed at the rightmost door. At first it did not open and, when I pressed a bit of my heft against it, there was a brief give before more resistance. I heard an “Oop!” from beyond the barrier. I leapt back, embarrassed. Apparently I was pressing the door into someone! There was a bit of murmuring behind the door before it opened inward. I gulped in shock when I saw who stood before me.

“Ah, Azrael!” exclaimed Lucifer, his mouth curled into an unfamiliar smile. “Right on time, I see! It always pays to be punctual for a meeting at Virtue and Punctuality.” His demeanor was glaringly contrary to how he spoke in our previous meeting. I found the change pleasant but disturbing at the same time.

“Er,” I croaked, “I did not realize you would be attending, Mister Lucifer.”

“Mister Lucifer!” He repeated with a laugh over his shoulder, presumably to whoever else was in the room behind him. “What did I tell you about this kid, Gabe?” He turned back toward me and stared with a strange admiration I had only seen before from Father. “No, I won’t be joining in on today’s meeting, but do know that the higher ups are aware of your progress. You’ve yet to disappoint, little Angel.”

A warmth erupted in my face. It felt like shame and pride all at once. I opened my mouth but I didn’t have anything to say.

“Lucifer,” a dry voice called from behind the Archangel, “If you’re going to praise the creature’s punctuality, at least let him in the door to be punctual.”

“Ah, of course!” The smiling Lucifer took a labored step back and held the door open for me to enter. As I inched my way in, he snuck his towering form around me and out into the hall. “Best regards, Azrael!” He said as he let the door close between us. 

The room was not as grand as I had expected. The magnificent aesthetic of the main hall had not transferred to the Archangels’ chamber. Instead, the walls and ceiling were a clean, abstract white. A skylight cropped from the ceiling’s center, allowing Father’s light to shine on the room’s simple furnishings. Ahead of me was a rectangular slab of marble cloud. It hung motionless in the center of the room, illuminated by the light from above. Ten marble white chairs surrounded the slab and sat suspended in a similar fashion. 

At the opposite end of the slab from me sat two radiant Archangels. The first I noticed was a giant of a spirit with earth-brown, craggy skin and locks of flowing silver hair. He wore the same night-black robes that I had recognized on Lucifer but the mass of his chest and arms were bulging at the seams. His enormous hands were clasped together and resting on the slab, his fingers were dressed in several thick, golden rings. His eyes were the shocking blue of a lightning flash and his nose and lips were wide on his muscular face. He looked at me, wordlessly, with an expression barren of emotion.

The Archangel to his right was slender, petite in comparison, but something about her presence was far more threatening. She too wore the black Archangel’s robes, though the cuffs and collar were decorated with an elaborate, gilded pattern. Her amber hair poured from the top of her head in short waves that flowed down to her neck. Her face was narrow, almost gaunt. Her sharp chin pointed downward and her colorless lips were pursed. A needling nose drew a line from those pursed lips up to eyes blacker than a tempest. 

“You may have a seat.” The smaller Archangel called and extended a welcoming hand toward the floating seat closest to me. Her voice was curt and intimidating, it lacked the song that hung in many other Angels’ voices. 

“I do apologize for the short notice.” She continued as I approached my chair and sat down. “With Creation rapidly approaching, we have been encouraged to expedite certain processes.”

“No trouble at all!” I cried out, perhaps a little too loud, across the table. “In truth, I didn’t realize ‘The Plan’ was coming together so quickly. That’s good news!” I smiled. When the gesture was not returned, I said, “Isn’t it?”

“Hm.” The slender Archangel replied noncommittally. She raised her hand to her face and rubbed at her cheekbone with her finger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited Archangel Uriel to this briefing. He will be sitting in on the interview process.” With her other hand, she offered an introductory gesture to the large Archangel to her left.

“Thank you, Gabriel.” Uriel’s craggy lips lifted into a welcoming smile and he unclasped his hands to place them both face down on the slab. “I wasn’t supposed to attend this meeting but, after hearing everything, I wanted to put a face to the name!”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “Gabriel, was it?” My eyes met the slender Archangel’s and she gave a slight, acknowledging nod. “What is this about an interview process? I’m afraid I don’t know why I was summoned today.” 

Gabriel’s gaze shifted to meet Uriel’s for a moment before returning to me. “Your summons,” she said wryly, “explained that we were to discuss your function and purpose.” 

“Now, now!” Uriel laughed in a thunderous tone that shook the room. “Like you said, Gabriel, things are happening so quickly these days. I get the feeling little Azrael here hasn’t been brought to speed with the recent influx of,” he paused as he searched for the right word, “adjustments being made to ‘The Plan.’” With each passing word that passed through Uriel’s lips, I preferred him more and more to Gabriel.

“Adjustments?” I repeated.

“He is little, isn’t he.” Gabriel sequitured and clicked her tongue, her voice permeated with venom.

“You must forgive Gabriel.” Uriel’s grin widened. “She is an auditor, after all. Father designed her to look for incorrections throughout the process. I imagine you’re more used to the friendliness of the Angels in the lower circle.”

“Ah, sure.” I lied. If spirits in the lower Angelarium were ever friendly, it was an event I had certainly never witnessed first hand.

“We’re not here to discuss my function, Uriel.” Gabriel reached below the chair and slammed a weighty book upon the slab’s surface. It was the second book I had ever seen, after my own. “This is about your progress, Azrael.”

“Oh.” I gulped. “I figured there were no discretions. I thought the naming process was coming along quite, er, nicely.” I hung my head and cursed in my mind whomever had complained about my process. I could only imagine it was that pedantic Qaspiel, still angry with his Jellyfish. Or maybe it was Ornias pulling a cruel prank, like his Platypus.

“Indeed.” Gabriel murmured as she flipped through an innumerable amount of pages in her book. “Yes, we’ve received word from Father and confirmation from Lucifer that you are, in fact, exceeding expectations.” Despite the commendation, her voice produced no kindness in its tone.

“Oh.” I said again. “Then, er, what’s the problem?”

“Problem?” Uriel laughed. “Azrael, your work is splendid! Before you came along, most Angels were designating approved creations with a complicated number system. It was getting ridiculous! And don’t get me started on trying to talk identification with the Djinn! They ID everything based on chemical composition! Gabriel,” he turned, “remember when Fuqtus gummed up the ledger for WEEKS because he referred to seagulls in his notes by the number of carbon atoms in their feathers?”

“Mmhmm.” Gabriel vaguely confirmed as she continued surveying her notes.

“Then Father comes along and says he’s tasked an Angel with giving every living thing a name! ‘A name!?’ I said, ‘How’s that going to help anything?’” Uriel turned back toward me. “But then you come along, you take a look at the seagull, you call it a seagull. It’s like that’s what it was supposed to be called this whole time! I mean, come on, it’s a gull that flies over the sea!” 

“Quite.” Gabriel snapped her book closed. “What Uriel is trying to get at is that there has been a highly irregular decision made on your behalf.”

“Highly irregular?” I felt foolish repeating everything the Archangels offered but I was so nervous, my higher cognitive function had ceased.

“A promotion.” She asserted.

“A promotion!?” 

“Will you stop that!” 

“Azrael,” Uriel offered, “we would like to advance you to the role of Principality. Specifically we, the Archangels, need a note taker for our meetings. We figure that no one, so far, has taken detailed notes like yours. Of course, this will start after you’re done assigning your names but, by our projections, we should be finished up with creating new creatures here by the end of the week. So,” he puffed up his chest and lifted himself from his chair, “What do you say?”

I didn’t know what to say.