The room looked more like a space station bridge than a celestial command post.
Low magic worlds were weird like that.
"Now, you two, I know you're just out of training, but trust me, Earth-8675309 is boring. There's no magic to speak of. The greatest threat the mortal humans have on that world is each other. Worst case scenario, you witness a nuclear apocalypse, but that's all up to the fates," Alaric said, the head Archangel over their particular branch of the multiverse.
Five hundred years of education and orientation, and they were both being sandbagged with this boring assignment.
The two recruits, one appearing as a proud and noble grey wolf, the other a white tailed jackrabbit, eyed each other with wary looks of concern before the hare reached up as if to groom her ears, only to straighten out her halo.
"We won't let you down, Sir," Riley, the hare replied.
"I feel that would be impossible. Just keep an eye on things, contact central in case of an emergency, and follow the script the fates have left on that... oh what's it called here? That's right, a computer system. Do your millennia, stay out of trouble, and maybe you'll get to advance," Alaric sniffed, looking down every bit of his nose at them, which made Grimm, the wolf, perk up his ears in annoyed bemusement.
The humanoid angels didn't have much nose to look down after all, but they did so exceedingly well.
"Stuck up, prick," Grimm muttered to himself, the words coming out more like a growl.
"Excuse me? Speak up!" Alaric barked.
"Nothing, we'll do as you instruct. Thank you for your trust," Grimm still remembered being a part of a pack ranked right in the middle. Life back then was a happy blend of politics and family, so far, the afterlife, was just politics.
It beat freezing your ass off in winter, though.
"Trust? Right..." Alaric's voice trailed off as he looked back over at the strange computer station. It consisted of a massive screen, probably bigger than it needed to be. Currently a map of the seven continents were displayed on it, as a horizontal and vertical line moved across at seemingly random intervals, displaying esoteric blips of data on the map, but all was otherwise quiet.
The whole mystical business was wrapped in a type of white metal. Buttons, flashing lights, and levers were arranged in neat rows, grouped for supposedly easy use, but those were mainly for tourists, of which there had only ever been one, long before their time.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The whole thing worked by neural control, and that machine was cataloging all of it, doing most of their job for them, feeding it back up to Weaver Central Command, the home of the Norns and other beings of destiny.
People were living and dying by the thousands down there, history was being made, dynasties were beginning and ending, and all was working according to the plans that the Fates had laid down.
That's how things worked, after all.
"Press the button to get routed to central in the unlikely event of an emergency, and just watch. That's what we do best. Intervention is not our business. I don't care if it's a child in a minefield or a nun in a crosswalk... Fate is not to be tampered with; do you understand? Watch, stay out of trouble, and don't make me come back here," Alaric lectured needlessly.
Grimm and Riley shared a look again, which seemed to convey perfectly what they each felt.
We don't want you to come back either.
"Got it; press the red button in the event of something unexpected; otherwise, just sit here and wait a few millennia until the promotion board gets around to us," Riley surmised.
"Exactly, and whatever you do, do not get involved. You're watchers. You observe and report. I cannot make this clear enough... DO... NOT... GET... INVOLVED, or Sacred Architects help me I will not be pleased, and it will affect your review," at that, the Archangel turned to leave, as Grimm and Riley looked at each other again, communicating as if by telepathy.
Finally.
"So this is weird," Riley said as the door slid shut behind Alaric.
"Not so much; most of us are assigned some low level job like this out of training, at least that's what they said in orientation. Didn't you pay attention?" Grimm replied, looking over towards Riley, but they were already halfway to the console that took up the far wall of the room.
"What?" The hare asked, as Grimm sighed.
"I wonder if I ate them in a previous life?" Feeling as if they understood Riley better in that moment, he padded along behind her, tail swishing, enjoying the random reminder of old hunting trips.
Prey was distractible, after all, paranoid and tasty, but that was another life, one they had left behind for this.
Joy.
Still, it wasn't all bad. Patience paid, after all, and this was much more comfortable than the forest, even if he did miss his pack, not to mention that language alone was novel.
"Were you fully sapient in your mortal lives?" Grimm called out to Riley.
"Not like this, no, didn't last long enough normally. I'd get a year, maybe two, then it would all start over, until that last time; had a good run then." She explained as they each arrived in front of the command console.
"What happened?" Grimm asked.
"Oh, I was getting old. I was maybe four or five years old by the reckoning of this planet's time span; at least, I think so. You know how it is." Riley groomed her face before digging at the unforgiving metal floor plates.
"I do, and then you got tapped for this assignment?" Grimm asked, dutifully getting to know his new packmate.
"There was a bunch of leverets under threat of a hawk, not mine, but something sparked, and it just didn't feel right, so I let them chase me. I lost, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a being like Alaric. I took this gig, and here we are." She surmised before looking towards the wolf. "You?"
"I was shot with what was called an arrow; I fought for my mate and our cubs. When given the choice, this seemed better than the cycle." Grimm explained, his ears folding back at the painful memory.
"So I guess we're both martyr types then, and we're supposed to just sit here and watch? Seems anti-climactic," Riley folded her ears back and cocked her head.
"Well, I suppose we can talk. That's rare for our two kinds." Grimm replied.