Qualia

by Marie Browne

  My head hurt. ‘I really don’t care.’ Picking up the painting I heaved myself to my feet. ‘I’m going back to bed. You do what you like.’

  He nodded and looked around. ‘Maybe I’ll tidy up a little, eh?’

  I shrugged. ‘Just don’t touch the paintings.’

  I knew I had to deal with them. They needed hanging ­­– they were too good to just heap in a pile. Maybe I should decorate – that colour Carly had in her room was nice, I’d try that.

  Carrying the painting with me I headed back upstairs. Kicking off my trainers I got back into bed and, curling protectively around the picture, I closed my eyes. It was lucky that Carly used oil paints; tears wouldn’t damage it.

  It took me a long time to fall asleep.

  INTERLUDE

  METATRON STANDS IN HIS office staring up at the painting of Lucifer who actually appears to be enjoying his fall. He looks away and, clenching his fists, sits at his desk. There are no papers, no letters – the surface is clear. Even his mugs have gone. There is nothing left to do.

  A knock from the city scene window breaks the silence. Metatron’s blood leaves his face at the sound and, after a quick glance, he puts his head down, hands cupping his eyes, and stares wide eyed at the surface of his desk. This moment had to come, all he ever had to do was wait, but – try as he might – he just can’t summon the strength to face it with dignity. He has never been quite as terrified as he is now.

  ‘No, no, no, no …’ His voice trails away to a meaningless mumble.

  A girl, tow headed and smiling, pushes her hands through the glass and onto the sill in the office. Easing herself gently through the window her curly blonde hair, momentarily pushed back from her forehead, flops back into the big blue eyes as head and neck enter the office. As her foot hits the floor she changes into something older, neither male nor female, but full of power. A golden youth.

  ‘My speaker.’ The deep, rich rolling tones echo around the room.

  Metatron clamps his hand to his nose – it comes away bloodied. Refusing to look at the child, who is now through the glass to the waist, he stands and begins to back toward the door. Keeping his eyes on the floor he reaches behind him to the handle. There is nothing there; what was previously a door is now no more than a thick wooden wall.

  The child steps over the sill with an innocent, beatific smile then places its second foot onto the carpet.

  ‘What have you done, my voice?’

  Hands clasped over his ears, eyes squeezed tightly shut, Metatron sheds his human form and at full force puts his shoulder to the wall. It hardly even quivers with the blow. Wings flaring he rises from the floor and flees toward the other window. Smashing into it, he slides like a stunned sparrow to the ground, his wings dimming and whirling in slow arcs. Black blood bubbles copiously from his ears, down his neck and runs down his arm.

  ‘Where will you go, my son?’ The youth walks slowly across the room to stand in front of the crumpled angel. ‘You, who have professed to speak for me for so long, will you leave now that I actually have something to say?’

  The stunned angel moans and opens his eyes to stare at the feet of the being before him.

  Its voice hardens. ‘Speak, Metatron, and tell me why you have forced the combination of human and angel.’

  Blood falls from the angel’s eyes like tears. It erupts again from his nostrils and pulses through his skin, running freely, to pool in the delicate hollows behind his clavicles.

  He opens his mouth but all that emerges is nonsensical sounds. ‘Gah, pluh, pluh.’ Blood bubbles up his throat as his organs collapse. It gushes over his chin and runs down his neck, joining the thin streams from his ears to form a flood that paints his naked chest a ghastly shade.

  The youth considers the stricken angel for a long moment. ‘My congratulations.’ Its voice takes on a ringing tone. The muscles in Metatron’s throat begin to jump and twitch, his facial muscles spasm and tighten to form a rictus grin. ‘You have managed to achieve what I never would dare – a truly independent angel with all the power of the Host and the empathy and arrogance of the humans. Lucifer is now completely without any form of control or sanction: an angel with true free will.’ The child bows its head and sighs. ‘He has human feelings, human concerns. If he questioned orders before, now there will be no stopping him. He has what he wanted all along – an equal footing and a loyal following – and it’s all down to you.’

  The youth crouches, as though finding a better position from which to study the agony it’s causing. Its elbows rest on its bare knees, the short white shift settles in folds across pale slim thighs. Tilting its head to one side the child considers its work.

  Metatron tries to speak, but again fails as fresh blood erupts from between his clenched teeth. He gags and heaves, clawing at the floor.

  The youth sighs. ‘I would have stopped you, but you made it impossible. You of all my sons are my voice, you are a representation of me. To change your decrees makes all pronouncements suspect – all of them, right back to the beginning. My sons would have flocked to Lucifer’s call. There would have been war the like of which is unthinkable. Not just Earth but all worlds would have been destroyed. But that is what you hoped for, isn’t it?’

  The angel digs his fingers into the deep carpet and shakes his head in denial. Blood flies in a fine fan to decorate the elegant walls and sumptuous furnishings.

  ‘Oh yes, but you knew that, didn’t you? You knew I would have to watch all this play out and not lift a hand to stop it – and what if you had succeeded?’ The youth shakes his head sadly. ‘You would have become “I”. You would have taken all that Lucifer is and joined with him. With that sort of power you would have been able to stand against me and would have cut off my voice for eternity and the Host would never have known. You would have made yourself Creator.’

  Bands of fire arise from the floor and encompass the angel. He is forced to a standing position as his skin blisters and blackens. Burned blood first fries then vanishes into black dust. His wings dim further, flicker, then vanish.

  ‘I have spent the last seven days studying demons. The fallen – those who turned from me – and it was you – you who have made this so.’ The youth frowns. ‘And it is I who have learned much about them, much about both species.’ It gives a short laugh. ‘Humans, demons, goats and dragons.’ The child stares at the floor and smiles. ‘There is far more to them than I ever imagined.’

  The angel’s silent screams cause the air to shake. The office and all its contents shimmer and vanish. There is nothing but one small blond child and an angel in agony.

  The youth sighs. ‘Right at the beginning, he told me this would happen. He warned me that if I tried to crush them they would just flow away from me. I told him he was wrong. Now there is nothing to be done except to see where this will lead us.’

  Raising a hand the youth pushes aside reality and opens a window to the world; it hangs blue and green, peaceful in the darkness. The youth regards it for a moment then returns to the angel. ‘Should I destroy it? Should I start all over again, or is there still time to hope for change?’ There is silence as options are weighed. Rising, the child continues to stare at Metatron. ‘No. I am old enough to accept that there may be a different way.’ He regards the world once more and speaks gently toward it. ‘If you think you can do a better job than me, I’m willing for you to try. I have other problems to attend to. So, first of my creations, I hand the world to you. Do with it as you will.’ Closing the window the child turns to regard the angel again. ‘However for you, my son, my voice, my traitor. From here on in there is nothing for you to do. You have already done it all and done it well.’

  With a raised hand the pain stops and the fire drops away. Metatron remains hanging in space, his face a contorted mask of blisters, blood and tears.

  ‘Let there be sleep.’

  The angel’s eyes close and his ravaged body finally relaxes and there is sleep.

  ‘Let there be, once
again, perfection.’

  The blood and burns vanish along with old scars and punishment and once more there is perfection.

  ‘Let there be time to reflect.’

  Behind the sleeping angel a door opens and the body moves silently into the darkness beyond.

  A child stands in the void. No voice, no contact, isolated and alone, he sees that, for now at least, it is time to leave.

  AFTERWARDS

  ‘JOE.’

  I was staring at the pictures of the babies that had been born on this ward over the last five years – there seemed to be hundreds of them. I turned around quickly and nodded to Lucifer. He stood in the doorway of the maternity unit, hands, as usual, deep in the pockets of the black leather coat he seemed to favour.

  ‘Come on.’ He indicated a corridor with a nod of his head. Placing his hand on the lock he opened the door to the ward and walked on through. ‘This way.’

  A nurse in green scrubs passed us in the corridor then stopped, unsure. We were obviously not supposed to be there. Looking surprised as he bowed his head to her, she smiled back and then continued walking. Making sure she’d gone, we entered the room she’d just vacated. It was small and most of the space was taken up by the large wheeled bed. In the corner was a transparent plastic crib; a tiny, wrapped form could be made out through the transparent plastic side.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I wandered over to the crib and, smiling, offered my finger to the little person inside. The child was wearing pink and had a pink bunny propped up at the bottom of the crib. From the many cards scattered around the room I decided there was no doubt it was a girl. She gripped my finger with that almost defiant hold that new babies have. Big blue eyes stared unfocused at the world around her.

  ‘Carly.’ Lucifer indicated the baby.

  ‘Really?’ I pulled my finger away from the baby then leant down to have a better look. There was no outward sign at all that she was older than about three hours. She already had her trademark orange hair, even though it was no more than a dandelion fluff around her head. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m bloody sure.’ Lucifer perched on the edge of the bed. ‘She’s fairly unique, you know.’

  I stared down at the little pink lump. ‘I know.’ I couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘She won’t remember me, will she? She has human parents so she’s going to be completely human?’

  ‘I don’t really know. This has never been done before.’ Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Carly will grow up like any other child, but what will happen when she reaches adulthood …’ He shrugged. ‘This child was destined to die at birth so I have merely replaced the damaged cells with a set of my own, like little cuckoos.’ He shrugged again. ‘After 15 , 20 years, give or take, something may bring her memories back or she may go through this entire life completely oblivious. This isn’t really an exact science, you know. I can’t speed her growth – she’s going to have to go through childhood and puberty again.’ He frowned. ‘Actually it’s probably a good thing that she won’t remember until after that: no one in their right mind would want to go through that twice and remember it.’

  Standing, he approached the crib and placed his finger in her hand for her to grasp. She obliged with what looked like a smile, but was probably just wind. ‘Anyway, I’ve got enough to keep you busy for a while.’

  I stared down at the baby ­– 20 years seemed longer than the 2,000 I’d already pulled.

  ‘Come on.’ He grasped my shoulder and turned me toward the door. ‘I can only keep the mother out of here for so long and, quite frankly, I’m too tired to deal with that conversation if she finds us with her baby.’ He stretched, looking like a cat that has just been dragged unwillingly away from the fire. ‘Do you know what?’ He rolled his shoulders and neck with a small wince. ‘I think I might actually need a holiday – maybe I should have taken Keril up on his offer to go with him to find his sister.’

  I took a long final look at the baby then hurried after him.

  ‘So?’ I said, once we were out the room. ‘What now?’

  Lucifer frowned. ‘Well, I’ve got to deal with Zephaniah. I need to have the city cleansed and all that pipework removed so that everyone can move back. Belial needs time: he’s struggling with returning powers and the loss of his daughter, but Melusine’s sorting that out.’

  ‘She’s all right?’ I’d wondered how the dragon was doing.

  ‘No,’ Lucifer shrugged. ‘Not many could dive into the Acheron and live.’ He smiled. ‘She’s tough as old boots, that one, though not as pretty as she once was.’ He paused, thinking. ‘Maybe I should get Raphael to have a look at her.’

  I spluttered. ‘Raph’s OK?’

  Lucifer winced. ‘Well, he’s not an angel any more, but …’ Lucifer shook his head, ‘… he decided that was a good thing. The last time I heard he was working in an alternative therapy centre and spending a lot of time on a beach in Cornwall. And before you ask, I have no idea what’s happened to Michael.’

  ‘I had a dream about Metatron this morning.’ I tried to remember what I’d seen.

  ‘No, you didn’t.’ Lucifer stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. ‘I saw it too. It was just God’s little way of telling us that he didn’t go unpunished.’

  ‘Why?’ I couldn’t understand why God would do anything for us after all the trouble we’d caused.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Lucifer ran a hand through his mad hair. ‘Maybe it was a thank you for all the chocolate and piggybacks.’

  ‘What?’ Images of Una cascaded through my mind and I gulped. ‘That was … Oh my God.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Lucifer laughed. ‘Take some time off, Joe.’ Lucifer stared out at drizzle that fell from a slate-grey sky, wrinkled his nose and pulled his hood over his head. ‘I’ll call as soon as I need you.’ He grinned. ‘Hey, maybe you and your new houseguest should take up gardening or at least experiment with those powers of yours. You really aren’t using them very well yet. Ask Bakeneko for some pointers.’ He turned to go then turned back with a snap of his fingers. ‘Damn, I nearly forgot.’ Putting his hand in his jacket pocket he pulled out a white box, its sigils still bright and fresh. ‘See what you can do with this,’ he said.

  I opened the box and there lying on its bed of velvet was the other knife. I recoiled and shut the lid with a snap. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do with it?’

  ‘Well, you can teach it some manners for one thing.’ Lucifer frowned at the box. ‘It really is very unpleasant and quite contrary. I asked Parity to talk to it for me and she passed out. Farr is a little grumpy about the whole thing so I thought I’d let you have a go.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  He turned away again. ‘I’ll see you soon, Joe.’

  Then he was gone, walking unnoticed among the pedestrians as they hurried, heads down and umbrellas up, along the wet city street.

  Here endeth the Gospels of Joe

  I WANTED TO COMPLETE this chronicle before starting anything new. Lucifer wants his own works published so I suppose I shall carry on writing but what these will be called I have no idea. Dark Gospels? Demonic Gospels? The Gospel according to Hell? I don’t know – everything sounds like a bad role-playing game and I dread suggesting that to him because he’d find it really funny and do it just because it makes him laugh.

  Everything is such a mess at the moment and, as I’ve got 20 years to wait, I have no doubt he’ll have me running around soon enough.

  Meanwhile life goes on and, as usual, the humans didn’t even notice that it was touch and go there for a while. I’m still getting roasted for my “garden art” by Mr Morris and I’ve met my new next-door neighbour;, they’re nice enough, but I don’t think I’ll be going round for dinner anytime soon.

  Bakeneko and I are existing in a sort of malevolent harmony. I discovered that his species is Bakeneko and his name is actually Haruna, which means springtime vegetable. Life got a lot better after that little discovery.

  I keep waiting f
or my next job but all is silent. Maybe “L” really did go on holiday; just thinking about him scuba-diving in Hawaii freaks me out a bit. The Devil in shorts, just hanging out by the pool, enjoying blue drinks with glittery umbrellas in them – well, it’s a little odd.

  I enjoyed the first week – I really needed the rest. The second was a little tedious, but I managed to catch up with all the little jobs I never get around to doing. We painted my living room and the stairwell; it looks good – much more cosy and homely. I suppose I ought to find some more jobs to do around the house; Haruna tells me he has a list but I’m ignoring him.

  I have tried to do what Lucifer suggested and use my powers a little more, but every time I try, I either blow something up or it quietly disintegrates. It’s a lot harder than it looks and I’ve pretty much given up, much to the Bakeneko’s disgust; although he has been a lot quieter about my failures since I managed to remove a sizable patch of fur from his arse with a rather wild attempt at moving him from one place to another.

  Quite frankly I’m getting a bit bored.

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