Welcome back to the very-interesting-life-and-times-of-Me.

I’ve been getting complaints. Well, less so me, and more so Gabriel. The afterworld has only been up and running for a short while, and still, it seems that people have quite a lot of opinions to share. And considering that I’m currently in ancient Mesopotamia learning from a potter how to make cool old pots, I’m a bit busy. Or maybe I’m just lazy.

Either way, I’ve decided to do the thing I previously said I wouldn’t do, simply because I don’t want to personally deal with complaints, and also I think it’ll be funny.

In other words, all those stupid names I’ve put on the systems I have for, you know, doing things, will now be actual people. Or angels, I suppose. It’s not like they’ll be mortal or anything. But they’ll look like people. Unless they’re close to me, in which case they will turn into cats because I like cats. Unless the situation is too dire for petting cats, in which case I suppose they can keep their human(-ish) forms so they can actually report things to me.

As for their human forms… I suppose they can decide on it themselves, but human, male forms will probably be best. There’s no particular reason for it, but since their main purpose will be to interact with human souls as a sort of PR team on my part, having them look like humans instead of wheels of fire would probably be for the best.

Of course, having them simply look like normal humans will be boring, but too many wings and glorias will also be boring, so… Alright, each angel gets one interesting trait, like a glowing eye or a pair of wings or whatever. It can’t be the same between them since I want to differentiate between them. It’s not like they can’t fly without wings or anything, so it’s really just cosmetics, just like their faces and all.

As for sentience, powers and the such, obviously, none will be able to do anything about me, but since they all rule one aspect or another, they can’t really be seen as weak or anything.

They have a sense of self, but, above else, they have a deep sense of loyalty and duty. Their personalities vary with their aspects and they are obviously capable of developing. It’ll be more interesting that way, after all. But they won’t exactly question their place. An angel having an existential crisis would be funny, but in this case, it would rather be because they, unlike humans, have a very clearly defined purpose to existing.

Oh, on that note, to handle angels like Barachiel or Samael, their aspects have been broadened in a sense. Barachiel, for example, handles all emotions and states related to trust, while Samael handles egoism. So, Barachiel governs selflessness, family, ignorance, naivety, blindness, and light while Samael handles fear, hatred, instinct, slyness, intelligence, and darkness. The angel of law and the angel of wild, you might say.

What this means for their personalities and personal powers is that Barachiel will possess the effects he ascribes to me - aka, a sense that he should be trusted - while Samael will likewise possess the traits he occasionally gives me, namely fear and doubt. These effects are weaker on other angels, but not fully removed. As for their personalities…

I have no idea. I honestly want them to go their own paths in life, so they may develop as they see fit. If Samael has a complex about being needlessly distrusted and Barachiel wonders if anyone actually likes him for who he is or if it’s the effects of his powers. No, they can’t turn them off, that would be too convenient. Heh.

…

Sometimes I wonder if I really am cruel.

Anyhoo, obviously, some angels are above others. Specifically, Michael will be the leader of the troupe, being the Archangel. Yes, I’m ripping off christianity, no I don’t feel any shame about it. Of all the angels, I might consider him to be both the most and least powerful, in that he doesn’t exactly have any real powers. But he is the closest anything has and ever will get to being omniscient. He knows everything.

Everything except me.

See, I love having privacy - who doesn’t? - and I know very well that, considering how intelligent I’m making him, he will definitely have the chops to outthink me should he be allowed to. I’m not an idiot by any means, but I am a very silly person. Michael, being a rational, straight-laced person who wants the best not just for all of existence but also humanity as a whole, would realise pretty quickly that the best thing to do in his situation is to manipulate me to either better the world or to give up this foolish being-human quest and intake my rightful position in the idea-world.

But I don’t want that. I’m like a kid with a frog plushie I stole from the store and don’t want to return. I know he’s right, but I want to play.

In other words, he will know nothing about me. He cannot predict my movements, or where I am, or what I want, or what I’m thinking. My goals are beyond him. Oh, uh, unless I tell him, of course. That’s an issue. I’m an oversharing bastard when I want to be. Dangerous, dangerous.

I kind of want to put more sanctions on him, but at the same time, I know I can always change my mind later. Unless my empathy kicks in and I can’t bring myself to alter the internal workings of a sentient. Hm.

Base line for all angels: they are immortal, indestructible, and live forever. They cannot lose their powers, and they are eternally loyal to three things: 1, me, 2, the continuance of human souls, and 3, existence. The priorities are in this order, too. I’m probably missing out on some things, but that’s beside the point.

Point 1 is to avoid having the manipulate or otherwise try to interfere with me. I really, really, really don’t want these people against me. It’s not like Gabriel can step down from his post fully since that would shatter the afterlife as it exists, but purely physically speaking, he can “leave” his post to go do what he wants. Likewise, it’s not like Samael is chained down somewhere. If they want to, they can go to the Earth and mess around, but since they value me (and hence my wishes) they will (hopefully) avoid doing anything rash like revealing the truth of the world.

Point 2 is basically the angel equivalent of the robot rule to “not hurt humans”, but expressed in a way where they could do a lot of morally dubious things so long as the soul continues existing. See, I’m selfish. I want the angels to be more than just static system, and so, they will have some degree of free will. This includes letting them interact with humans and having them form relations with them. They will, after all, have human personalities. It might be a bit weird, but I hope to see a few of them make friendships or similar with humans. They don’t have to tell the humans that they aren’t actually humans themselves, so…

Point 3 is just a sort of, uh, let’s say emergency brake. It’s a bit funky, since I’ve made it so that, in the right situation, their loyalty to all of existence outranks their loyalty to me. It’s sort of like being in love with a guy and wanting the best for him until he beats your kids at which point you shoot him. Ah, uh, but it’s not like I want them to shoot me. Or maybe I should have that as a final stop…

Okay, alright, Point 4, in a situation where I am about to do something apocalyptic, Samael will have the power to stop me. For five minutes, he can stop me in my tracks, banishing me and paralysing me to a single point. He can’t destroy me or strip me of my power, but he can absolutely stop me for a short amount of time. Using this time, he can convince me, and since I won’t be able to talk or anything, I’ll have to listen.

There’s this old riddle about whether or not God can create a rock that he cannot lift. It’s a paradox to test the limits of omnipotence, and in truth, through omnipotence, the laws of reality and gravity can be bent to the point where this paradox has an answer. So, to reiterate, this power that Samael holds will not be able to be broken by me. I won’t be able to move. Period. You can think of it like pitting Future Me versus Current Me in a battle of power, which leaves it at a stalemate, but since Current Me got the first hit in by paralysing Future Me, they will be left in that state.

I won’t like it, but since Samael is imbued with the rule that this power can only be used in situations where the fate of all existence is on the line and can directly be attributed to my action (or inaction) I have faith that it will be used well.

“Damn it, you messed it up again!” My master slaps me over the head and I turn down to look at the ruined pot.

Ah. Got lost in thought again. “Sorry,” I mumble back at him. “I’ll clean it up.”

Back to my thoughts. Now, how many angels do we actually have?

Five. There are five angels.

…Not a good number. That’s the Scooby Doo number. I’d like to have around nine, since that’s a nice angel-like number. We need more angels. Approximately four of them.

I think I’d better handle this someplace other than my master’s hut. While I exit with my ruined project in tow, I quickly leave this space and enter what might be considered a somewhat disconnected dimension. It’s not Earth, it’s not any point in time, and it isn’t the afterlife. It simply is.

Before me stand five cats. I blink at them while they frolic somewhat absently, not really paying any attention to me. Oh, no, wait, one of them is paying attention to me. It’s a blond cat. There really isn’t a lot else to say about it. None of the cats are any particular breed, nor do they have any strange traits. The intelligent green eyes of the blond cat bore into me and I have a small idea.

It would probably be easier to handle this if these guys had their human forms.

I snap a finger and the cats change into vaguely humanoid beings of light. Ah, apart from the black cat, which remains more of a shadow than anything. Weird.

The white cat, which had previusly been cleaning its butthole, now snaps to attention. It’s not easy to tell by the expression on its non-existent face, but it seems embarrassed.

“Welcome to existence.” That’s about all I have to say to them. They wobble a bit in response. Oh, yeah, they don’t have mouths. Hm. Considering the kind of power they should posses, it’s not like they’re fully chained to these forms. They could take a human one anytime they liked. But I guess they’ve got a lot on their minds, so with another snap of the finger, they each take on a human form, complete with flesh and bones. It’s not actually flesh and bone, but that’s what it looks and feels like.

For a few seconds, they each examine their bodies. I can tell instinctually which is which. The blond cat was Michael, the white cat was Barachiel, the black cat was Azrael, the red cat was Gabriel and the brown cat was Samael. Now that they have human forms, that hasn’t changed much. They still have those very same hair- and eye-colours, so it isn’t a hard connection to pull. I would assume these faces were subconsciously formed by themselves.

Gabriel looks like a tired salesman. If he’d had black hair instead of an intense ginger, he would strike me as the very image of the japanese salesman with three kids at home and a wife who nags at him whenever he fails a sale. I almost pity him just based on looks, but it’s not like he has any reason to feel tired what with not needing to sleep, so I glance over at the man beside him instead.

Man might be a bit… Azrael still doesn’t look human. He’s clad in this big cloak thing, so you can’t really see anything but a pair of glowing yellow eyes. How disturbing. I guess it suits him as the reaper of souls, not that he actually kills anyone. He also has this strange crown thing on his head, or at least I assume it’s a crown, since the cowl only makes the spires somewhat visible.

“My Lord,” Michael says. And what a regular looking man he is. His hair, much like he was as a cat, is this platinum blonde, but it’s short now, and since he only barely looks like anything more than a teenager, he gives the impression of a delinquent. That’s exactly it, he looks like a delinquent from a high school fighting manga who has bleached his hair. And still, he bows to me. “For what reason have you summoned us?”

Ah. Oh, yeah, I don’t like this kind of treatment. I almost forgot. But it’s not like I can ask him to be more familiar with me, since his loyalty to me hinges on respect and whatnot. Guess I’ve got no choice but to bite the sour apple. “Dress yourself, Archangel.”

Barachiel steps forward, his foxs’ eyes narrowing strangely. As he bows down slightly, his long snowy white hair flaps to his chest in a way that should be beautiful but honestly isn’t. But going at the way the other angels are looking at him, it’s probably working for them. Must be since I’m immune to his trust-inviting effects. “Do our forms not please you, my Lord?”

Not really, it’s just that I’m dressed like an ancient thrall while you are a bunch of naked guys. I’m not sure why, but it seems all of them (apart from possibly Azrael) chose to be as hot as humanly possible. Barring Gabriel, of course. Either way, since my current form is far from a looker, and middle-aged to boot, it feels unbalanced.

I shrugged. “Be presentable.”

Barachiel gives an invisible pout and straightens back up again. He gives a massive flourish as though to start dancing, and then he’s wearing what seems to be a white-and-gold silken robe. Or maybe it’s black-and-blue, it’s hard to tell in the light. He seems very proud of it.

In turn, Michael dons a simple but classic outfit that includes a red cape. I adore the red cape. My inner image of Michael goes up several notches, though he still looks like a delinquent. I hope he won’t steal my loose change.

I’m not at all surprised to see Gabriel suddenly wearing a very typical suit. Very fitting, I suppose.

I’d say Azrael doesn’t change, but if you look really closely, the colour of his eyes has changed a little. He might be wearing glasses, but, again, I can’t tell.

And then there’s the final person in the room. Standing a bit off, not really looking at anyone or anything, is Samael. A hoodie and sweatpants. Wow. Combined with his wild, brown hair and sunken eyes, he really does look like an avid gamer who would much rather sit in front of a gamer chair than be here. He doesn’t look especially trustworthy, but I know he’ll work diligently enough.

Well, everyone’s dressed. It’s the perfect time to say what I came here to say. Just need to pull together all my confidence to do it.

“After this, you are not to contact or interact with me unless it is in your acting as angels. Your rules for living are written into your very beings, and I have no doubts that you can follow them. There are few ways you can contact me, but I will come if I feel it necessary.” They kinda stare at me for a second and I’m not really sure what to say. “Live. Exist. Do as you please. But, before I go…”

I try my best to pull myself up and look at least a little respective, but I’m short and all of them chose to be tallboys. Damnit. Assholes. “I will allow each of you to make one request of me. I will not deny it to you unless it’s something really weird but if you ask stuff like that of me I’ll probably just smack you, so, uh, don’t.”

A few glances are shared.

Like the true leader I made him to be, Michael approaches. “Grant me some way of protecting myself.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Ah, afraid that being basically omniscient won’t be enough, huh? Well, alright then. I pull a sword from my chest. It’s a pretty ordinary sword, I guess, but its effects are only useful at some times. “With this sword, so long as you are righteous in your judgement, it will cut down anything. But if not, it cannot cut the softest bread.” Also it lights on fire if you attack in vengeance, but I think that’ll be fun for him to find out on his own.

He accepts the sword venerably. When he looks down, he finds that there is already a hilt hanging from his side. At around the same time, a pair of snowy white wings sprout from his back. Yeah, it’s cliche, but one of them needs the typical bundle of feathers.

Barachiel is at my side before I can really return from my thoughts. “Make me beautiful,” he asks.

He already is, but… Sure. A snap of the finger and a pair of glowing halos appear around his head at the height of his eyes, blotting them both out and forming a glowing X. I can’t see his eyes, but with this, his eyes are so gorgeous that should anyone apart from me or possibly Michael see his eyes, they would be completely bewitched.

The other three don’t make any sign of moving, so I look meaningly at Gabriel. “Ah… Erm, could I have a break?...”

…Is everyone going to come with weird stuff? “You get Sundays off.” His tired eyes light up. At the same time, a disc of light appears behind his head like a plate of glowing gold.

A cold presence touches against my shoulder and I feel someone press their lips against my ear. A whisper.

…That is also a weird wish, but since it’s hardly a bother, I grant it without a second thought. Maybe a little unethical, but thanks to the rules, I doubt he’ll go overboard. Like a living shadow, Azrael steps away, his feet light as he moves floatingly across the floor. The edges of his cowl now seems to merge with the shadows of the floor.

Now, the only one left would be…

I turn to Samael. He turns away. For some reason, the other angels won’t even look at him. Clicking his tongue, he shoots a glare at me, something I would never have expected from a being with the supposed epithet “servant of God.” And now, a sneer. Will the surprises ever end? “I need nothing.”

Hm. I highly doubt that, but alright.

With a small mental comment, I place a little worm of a command inside him that if he ever really wants something, it’ll basically send me an order of what to grant him. Whatever it is, I can’t really deny him, since this is kind of my preliminary payment for forcing these guys to work for me for, well, you know, all of eternity.

Alright then. That was the lot of them, so now I just need to think about what the remaining four angels should be like… Barachiel and Samael both rule over the two contrasting forms of emotion, so they hold the aspect of expression. Michael holds sway over all of existence (pretty much), and Gabriel takes care of the afterlife. Azrael does all the death and soul-transferring stuff, alongside reincarnation.

I should probably make a Raphael. Not because I can think of anything he should govern, but mostly just because it's a typical name that I haven’t used yet. I suppose, technically speaking, none of the angels really “rule” Earth as it is. Sure, Michael knows all about what’s going on there (apart from what I’m up to), but it isn’t as though he actually has any say in it.

It’s decided, then.

With a small pop, a large, grey cat appears. Since all the other angels are in human forms, it looks a bit weird that there’s only one cat, so I let him turn human straight away. Oh, he’s old. Maybe I should have expected that with the grey coat and sharp blue eyes, but he looks about 60 years old, with his face drawn with wrinkles all over. None of them show him to be a man of any mirth or laughter, and he really seems much more interested in frowning.

He looks like a hard-assed general kind of guy, so when he puts on some clothes, I’m not at all surprised to see him wearing a fine grey suit and a large dark coat. Though, I suppose, of all the angels, he looks the most human at the moment, though that may soon change.

Raphael takes one look at the others in the room before turning to me. His eyes hold some real weight in them. “Grant me an instrument to contact you with, oh Lord.”

He didn’t even let me say anything first, how rude. In that case, it isn’t his fault that I’ doing him a monkey’s paw. A golden trumpet appears in his hands. There’s also a silver case for it at his feet, but he looks so stunned that I don’t think he notices it.

As he’s holding the trumpet, a sort of glow envelops his hands until they turn yellow and almost translucent. It’s really just a precaution so that only he can actually play the thing, but I’ve also been kind enough to give him the power to heal any human disease. To a certain degree, at least.

He’ll have to wear gloves while on Earth.

After all, that’s from where he’ll be working. I say work, but his only real task is to keep track of it.

Now that I think about it, I might want to create a heaven of some sort. Not for humans to go to, but more so as a place for these people to meet, hang out, and maybe work if they want to. If they have to, which most of them don’t.

In that case, there really isn’t a lot that I have left to say. These guys probably have a bit to say to each other, so my presence is only growing more awkward by the second. Great. Time to go back to pottery. Now that I think about it, maybe I should make a bundle of corresponding devils, just to add some spice…

As I leave, the space in the dimension twists and forms into an almost stereotypical office, complete with coffee machine and lounge area. Ah, but they all have private offices with varying views and sizes. Not to forget the various cat toys and scratching posts littered here and there in case they feel like relaxing. They can call and dismiss souls (though not bodies) as well as anything else they might need.

Well, I’m off. “Bye.”

Bzoop.

Michael

With that, the Lord left. The now six angels stood around awkwardly for a few seconds, and then when they knew he’d really left, Michael allowed himself to breathe a sigh, his previously proud pose collapsing a little.

How stressful.

As he turned to look at the other angels - his subordinates - he felt the hit of the sword clank against his leg. It was heavy. But it also told of a truth Michael had hoped would not come to pass. Namely, with this, the Lord had confirmed that they would at some point be faced with enemies. Enemies that Michael would need to cut down. He dreaded that thought, but at the same time, he understood that if the time came, he would do it.

Even if that enemy happened to be one of his own. Or, worse yet, his own creator.

He could feel his internal workings, the rules branded onto him at inception, screaming at him to ever even consider the possibility. But he had to.

Michael knew nothing about the Lord. Not a single thing. When he appeared before them at the same moment as they came to exist, he had appeared to Michael as a pronounced gap in time, space and existence. The outline of something that might have been there. But he had heard his voice. A simple voice, filled with human sentiments.

But the second Michael tried to analyse that voice, to understand what such a simple voice might hold, he felt a headache rip itself through his mind. This was his limitation. But even with this pain, he made no sound, no grimace to show his thoughts.

He glanced between the angels to see if any of them had noticed anything.

In the religious meaning that mortals may ascribe to the idea of an “angel,” these things were far from it. They were immortal and eternal, possessing immense power. But they had human sentiments. Michael could experience pain. And, when he looked at Barachiel, he could experience a strange, instinctual sense of trust. This was despite knowing that Barachiel had such powers. Of the six of them, Barachiel was the most beautiful. His eyes were hidden, but the mere hint that his eyes might be even more beautiful made Michael next to desperate to get a peek beneath.

But it would not reflect upon his position as their leader.

Drawing himself up, Michael addressed the group, “I am sure we all have things we would like to say. However, at the moment, I recommend that we-,”

“Keep it to yourself, Michael.” Turning towards the gruff voice, Michael found Rafael’s icy blue eyes piercing into him. “The Lord may have appointed you as our supposed ‘leader’, but that does not mean we need to heed your words.” Too stunned to reply, Rafael takes the moment to continue speaking. “There is only one thing that we need to say, and that is that our creation is a joke.”

At this, Michael drew himself up again. “That is false,” he said intently. “However, even if that should be the case, it does not diminish our own existence. Whether we live for his amusement or need, it changes nothing.”

“It changes everything,” Raphael spat. “A true God would not need angels to care for him or the world he has created. This man does not deserve our respect.” For just an instant, his cooly passionate expression turns thoughtful. “You, too, must have seen his eyes. Those were not the eyes of anything worthy of devotion.”

Those soulless, empty eyes flashed through Michael’s mind and he flinched back. “I will not argue with you on that point. But…” He touched a hand to his heart. “Don’t you feel, in here, that it is the truth?”

“Can you not feel that he has placed something in there? In all of us?” A scoff. “This is all a farce. I will have no part in it.” With a theatrical wave of his coat, Raphael turned around, the space parting before him like a curtain. In the brief glimpse Michael saw of that other place, there was what seemed to be a sprawling human cityscape of some sort.

Sighing to himself, he turned to the other angels. Unsurprisingly, Azrael had already disappeared.

He met the eyes of Gabriel. “Uh, I’d love to stay and chat, Mike, but I have a lot of complaints about the afterlife to handle, so… I’ll get back to you about the state of our existence in a few years, alright?” And before Michael could tell him that he’d like to talk a little longer, Gabriel darted down the hall, slipping inside one of the many doors. A small name-plate on the door showed that he had at least not taken anyone else’s office. He had left the trumpet he’d been given, but as soon as he disappeared, so did the instrument.

As for the two left…

Michael’s eyes unwillingly fell on Samael and a flicker of goosebumps spread across his back. For the most part, Michael felt an instinctual sense of trust towards his fellow angels, as uncooperative as they may seem at the time. But not Samael. Even when he stood so far away, even without looking at him, he made Michael feel uncomfortable. He felt like walking away, or drawing his sword, or hiding his face behind his wings. Anything to not have to be in the same room as the man.

Their eyes met. Unwittingly, Michael grit his teeth.

He knew it was an unfair emotion to feel. In his near-omniscience, he knew every single power that Samael had. Compared to the other angels, he didn’t have any greater use apart from what he appeared to ‘rule’. Perhaps his Lord had some ulterior motives for his presence, but-

A pang of pain spread from the back of Michael’s head to the front. Right. He couldn’t even think about his Lord without feeling like his head was being split open with an axe.

That aside, then. Michael knew very well that one of Samael’s main influences is that he can instil in nearby sentient the sense that he cannot be trusted. Or, that’s what it might have been a time ago before the system he was based on was altered. Now, he grants any onlookers the instant choice between fight, flight or freeze. There is no other option. Michael, alongside the other angels, were only barely able to power through it to look at him. Any lesser being might even go so far as to pass out on the spot, but that remained to be seen.

Samael’s eyes sharpened and he clicked his tongue. Then, he turned around and walked away.

Michael blinked at him as he left. “Wait-,”

Turning his head, Samael gave him a harsh glare that shut him up instantly. He could do nothing but watch as he left, and almost the very moment he stepped through a rift in existence, the entire room seemed to light up with warmth. Michael shot a suspicious glance at Barachiel, who smiled back at him innocently. As per the man’s abilities, the smile was both disarming and calming, leaving Michael with a sense of inherent familiarly.

“How mean of them all, to leave you stranded like this,” Barachiel said smoothly, his voice bordering on soprano.

Beating down the urge to agree with him, Michael replied, “No, I understand their feelings too well. Something deep inside won’t let me lose trust in our Lord, and still, I also feel that there is something strange afoot.”

“Like what?” Barachiel asked, tilting his head pleasantly.

“In no mortal book of faith would a God act this way. There, both he and his angels are described as moral and just. And yet, we have been given no limitation. Is there anything stopping either of us from stepping down onto the place of man and wreaking havoc? Even if we should kill their physical forms, their souls will persist. Destroying a few million men will not dampen the existence of man. The code written into our very existence says nothing on that note. ‘Do as you please,’ he told us.”

“So, like, adultery and stuff like that is okay?”

If Barachiel hadn’t been so pretty, Michael wouldn’t have taken his words as a joke. Giving a small laughter, Michael answered, “I suppose so, though I would personally believe it to be below your status…”

Barachiel shrugged. “If it’s okay for the Lord to mess around, it’s fine for us too, right?”

Michael paused. “...He’s messing around?” He felt his eyebrows furrow. “In what sense?”

“Oh, well, it’s pretty weird, but he’s — - — — - ---- — — - — -. Strange, huh? But I guess it’s up to him to do what he wants.”

“...I see.” It would have been too easy if he could just ask his fellow angels about what their Lord was doing. But he wanted to know. It was in his best interest to know exactly what that man was doing so that he could hold an opinion on it and know how to act. Simply knowing that he was ‘messing around’ wasn’t enough. On that note, messing around by whose measurements? Raphael seemed to consider their creation as the Lord ‘messing around’.

Grumbling, Michael decided to put the lot of it behind him. Technically speaking, he could not think about what there was to be done. His only purpose seemed to be to lead the other angels, but that had already been botched. In that case, he might as well check out his office. There may, after all, be some clue there.

So, bidding Barachiel a warm farewell, he left.

Michael’s office was a large thing resembling that of a CEO’s, with a desk and chair facing the door. Of course, behind it was a giant window showing a golden dawn painting clouds yellow and orange. It was a beautiful sight, though not quite as much as Barachiel.

Michael shook his head at the thought, feeling the last of the wispy warm thoughts leave his mind.

He took a seat at the desk, wondering absently what it was constructed with. Since he didn’t know, it must have had something to do with his creator. In other words, he decided not to think about it. There was a computer atop his desk which he booted up and went through. It was connected to three different internets, being the one of Earth, the spirit web, as well as a third that seemed a tad more personal to the few of them. Why his Lord would spend time and energy making something like this was beyond him, so he decided to look at the email connected to all three.

Despite this being his first usage of it, he had already received a message.

Apparently, it was from a mortal prince of some sort, asking him to assist him with the transportation of various jewels and minerals, promising that Michael would get his fair share, should he assist him. It was a tempting offer, but Michael recognised the format from the typical mortal scams. Then again, how would such a message find itself into his email? The only explanation would be that his Lord had purposefully sent it there for some reason Michael couldn’t fathom. It was strange and unusual, and so, Michael decided to respond, if only to try the waters.

As it turned out, the poor prince was indeed in need of help, and Michael was the only one capable of it. But since Michael didn’t have a bank account, he had to help him in some other fashion. Then again, how hard could it be to transport a few earthly minerals?

Feeling as though he had finally found some sort of purpose in his creation, Michael set out for the human world.

Gabriel

Gabriel really, really, really wished his Lord would have given him some sort of assistant for this particular job.

Unlike the other angels, Gabriel knew exactly what his duties were, and he also knew that every second he spent listening to the others or even his Lord talking was a moment of working missed.

The most obvious aspect of his work in upholding the fabric of the afterworld was to ensure that the aetherweb didn’t completely collapse onto itself. His Lord had been merciful enough to let the entire thing be basically crowdsourced as far as concepts went, but the more stupid and useless ideas Gabriel went through, the more faith he lost. And even if he did find an idea worthy of being created and upheld, he actually had to make it. And then he had to moderate it to make sure it kept his standards. And then he had to keep doing that for all eternity.

One small mercy would be the fact that he was not technically in the same time-zone as the afterworld. He lived on a request-to-request basis. For him, time only moved once he was finished mulling over a request. It meant that when he went to get a coffee break, he did not return to a million requests that he had to get through quickly before anyone could complain about it.

If a human soul had followed his efforts from the other dimension, it would seem as though everything he did happened an instant after the other. There was no organic break, only pure working.

But even then, it did not mean Gabriel spent all his time in his office.

“Ah, uh, what seems to be the problem?...”

With that, Gabriel touched down onto the simple home in the simple street. Going by the appearance, the time period appeared to be late 40’s, urban Sweden. The situation playing out in front of him was far from the first one to happen considering that there are over ten billion souls in the afterlife, but it was his first time dealing with it. It won’t be the last though, since the second he has finished with this one he will need to move onto the next. But for now, he’ll need to do his best to upkeep his calm.

“The problem?!” And with such a theatrical statement, the woman who had called him whips her head around to face him. It was difficult to tell whether she was more enraged or mournful over the situation, and combined with the other two involved members of the conflict - a man and a woman standing close together - it was pretty easy to understand what was happening. Right as she was about to explain where her righteous fury was coming from, she must have noticed his appearance and presence. “...Who are you?”

Giving a small nodd of greeting, Gabriel simply stated, “I am Gabriel, m’am.” He pointedly looked up and down the street. “I understand your need for resolution, but, ah, could we take this inside?”

She looks him up and down, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. Spinning on her heel, she turned back to the house and the other two. “Fine. Come on.”

But the man blocked her entrance. “I would rather she didn’t.”

At such a direct rejection, she puffed up like a blowfish, her face going all red, but Gabriel was at her side before the situation could escalate any further. “If you would rather sit elsewhere, you could both join me in my office?” The third woman suddenly took a hod of his arm, pressing herself close to him. “...You three.”

The two main sources of the conflict shared a look. Speaking for both of them, the man said, “Fine.”

In a flicker of light, they appeared back at Gabriel’s office. This was a very good thing, since time was distorted in that space. Then again, this did show that even though he had hardly been in there for any long amount of time, it was already stacked full of piles of papers and documents and in-going and out-going mails. With a world-weariness, he slumped down on his chair, waving to the three chairs in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat.”

All of a sudden, the atmosphere had turned somewhat awkward, with the three unsure exactly how to sit, in the end choosing to place the man in the middle with both women at his sides. Gabriel folded his hands across his desk. “Now, will you please explain the matter?”

The first woman held up a hand, her face still somewhat red with indignation. “Before that, what are you? Are you an angel of some sort?”

Gabriel gave a quick nod. “I am.” She opened her mouth but he spoke quicker, “And before you ask, no, there is no one religion that is correct. Furthermore, I’m afraid I can’t explain much more since that is not what brought us here.”

Almost shyly, the second woman raised a hand as though afraid to speak. Gabriel nodded to her. “...Why are we not allowed to live together?”

“Like you have any right to be with him! Man-stealing slut, how dare you go after him the second I die?!” the first woman shouted out of the blue, preliminarily silencing Gabriel.

“Please, Marie, you know I would never do that to you! He was sad, he needed someone at his side… Would you rather he spend his final forty years in misery?”

“If it means he’ll still love me, then yes!”

Gabriel watched it go back and forth, putting the details of the situation to mind. Then, he established eye contact with the second woman. Realising her question was about to be answered, she kept quiet. “I myself cannot fully understand why the Lord has decided to make the afterlife the way it is.” Gabriel gave a pause, choosing his words carefully. “I sincerely hope that you never meet him.”

Three pairs of furrowed brows met him. “Uh… Okay?” the man said.

The intervention continued. In the end, Gabriel was able to convince them that everyone has a right to move on with their lives and anyways they will reincarnate soon and if they were truly meant to be, they will surely find each other again. That last part was mostly just a last-ditch effort to calm them down, and somehow, it worked.

It would not be the last time such a conversation played out, and it didn’t take long for Gabriel to wonder if Barachiel, being the angel or trust and law, should maybe handle such matters.

If he could only find where he had gone.

Now that Gabriel thought about it, the only other angel he knew for certain where he was was Michael, since he also enjoyed using the office. Unless he had left it for some reason, which would be a bit strange. Convincing himself that Michael would get to it when he had time, Gabriel composed a short email and sent it off.

And now, back to sorting out the minor trifles of human souls and rejecting the fifty-eleventh suggestion for a soul tinder.

Barachiel

Barachiel has decided to try his hand at going through all seven deadly sins, all the while having as much fun as possible. Getting money to rent a shag-shack was as easy as finding a sugar momma, and then finding people to smoke, eat and shag with was only a matter of convincing hobos that there was fun to be had and free drinks all around.

He was having a really good time, and what else matters?