The Department of Hate - A Love Story

by Anthony O'connor

  Lucifer had moved over to the window and stood in front of it - staring out at the lost souls pouring down. He seemed to be delighted. He spoke to Jarrod

  “Look at that. Millions of them now.” But Jarrod was completely enraged. He snarled back at Lucifer.

  “Most of them are so fucking stupid they’ll barely notice they’re dead.” Lucifer was amused by this, he said

  “I think they’ll notice when they hit the surface.” But Jarrod wasn’t listening. He continued his rant.

  “Smug little pig brains full of self serving slop, God how I hate them.” Lucifer was delighted.

  “That’s the spirit. Keep thinking like that and you’ll be back to your old self in no time.” Again Jarrod didn’t really listen. He focussed instead on his own use of the word ‘God’ - the great unknown, the power behind it all. He was angry at him too. Who else was ultimately to blame – for everything! He looked at Lucifer

  “You’ve seen God, face to face!” Lucifer replied carefully

  “Yes. So have you.” Jarrod thought about this, then said

  “But I don’t remember. What’s He like?” For just a moment Jarrod thought he could see in Lucifer’s expression a terrible sense of longing and heart ache, of loss and pain. But it was quickly covered over with a thick layer of cynical derision.

  “Try to imagine something, or someone, with infinite charisma, infinite beauty, promising perfect happiness, calling you in, drawing you in.” Jarrod was surprised by this description. But he listened carefully and Lucifer continued.

  “And all that he demands in return is to be worshipped and obeyed - absolute obedience and craven obeisance.” Jarrod pondered this. Lucifer snarled

  “So if that’s what you want, drop to your knees, crawl your way in and spend the rest of eternity kneeling at his feet, gazing up at him adoringly.” Jarrod replied bluntly

  “Never going to happen.” Lucifer raged on

  “I will destroy every creature in existence before taking a single fucking step.”

  Chapter 24 – Marianne

  Cassandra was heart broken. She was attending the funeral of Marianne – her dearest and closest friend, who she had known since childhood. Adrienne was there with her. Marianne had been killed only five days earlier on a Saturday night in the backstreets of Kings Cross in Sydney – supposedly a robbery gone wrong. Her murderer had cut her throat and then fled, leaving her to die. Cassandra tried not to imagine her friends last desperate minutes stretched out on a cold side walk, choking on her own blood, flailing about, trying to scream out, trying to call for help as the cold weight of death settled on to her - her last breathe, her last heart beat.

  Now they were here in the church. There were a lot of people attending, Marianne was well known and well loved. She had a large family. Her mother and her sister were in the front row openly weeping. Cassandra looked on bleakly. Marianne’s dead body was there in the coffin in front of her – soon to be buried deeply in the hard cold ground. She could barely take it in. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming out at the top of her lungs - in anguish and resentment. But instead she stood there silently. Adrienne stood beside her, steadfast in her support. The priest in the pulpit was mouthing platitudes – which Cassandra found simply obtuse. A loving God! Forgiveness and redemption! Eternal life! The saving power of Christ! She felt like puking. She could see Marianne’s mother and sister listening intently, soaking it all in. They had never liked Cassandra, seeing her as a bad influence on their precious girl. Cassandra knew that she would never see them again after today – but she felt for them nothing but tenderness. Death was so final.

  Somehow they ended up in a car in a slow procession to the cemetery. Cassandra and Adrienne were in the back seat. There was an unknown man driving – he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them. Cassandra glanced at a half-open newspaper lying on the seat. There was a picture that caught her eye. She read the first few lines - well known British philosopher Jarrod Bennet discussing the recent breakthrough of French neuroscientist Etienne Barteau. Barteau and his team had finally shown in detail how the conscious mind emerged quite naturally from the brain’s chemical and electrical interactions – nothing transcendental, no soul, no God, and after death - nothing. Cassandra shook her head thinking

  “Well that’s just perfect.” Adrienne tried to put her arm around her but Cassandra ignored her. She stared at the picture of the philosopher, Jarrod Bennet. There was something about him. For a moment she imagined that she could see in his eyes an underlying despair even deeper than her own.

  She was in an increasingly strange mood. She leaned back in the seat and the turned her face to Adrienne

  “Do you think that the priest actually believes in his own bullshit?” Adrienne knew that this was not the time to argue, just to agree and smile. She did have some religious beliefs but rarely discussed them with anyone, even Cassandra. She replied simply

  “I don’t know darling, probably not.” Cassandra made a face

  “I think when you die, you’re dead. That’s it. Nothing more! Ever!” Adrienne looked at her sadly

  I hope not.” Cassandra wasn’t really listening, just thinking out loud

  “Marianne will be so angry, being killed like that. She was so beautiful. She loved everyone – and everyone loved her.” She thought about it for a bit and then corrected herself. “Would have been so angry. Oh god, I miss her. Marianne, Oh Marianne.” She started crying again. Adrienne tried to comfort her but without much success.

  They arrived at the cemetery and got out of the car. Cassandra looked about sadly. Rolling green fields of tightly cut grass, large leafy trees, low hills in the distance and right in front of them row upon row of small white gravestones. What a dirty disgusting place – she hated it - a common ignominious end to how many untold lifetimes of striving and yearning? No future, no hope, nothing. With a creator that was either insane or sadistic or both – even if he did exist – which was unlikely. She didn’t know why she was obsessing on this – she didn’t normally. Religion and death! Could they ever be separated?

  All too soon they were lowering Marianne’s coffin into the grave. Everyone watched on sadly. Relatives and friends were all united in their grief and their anguish. They all remembered Marianne’s bright eager smile, her earnestness and the bottomless well of kindness that seemed to be a part of her very essence. Everyone would miss her dreadfully. There was some music playing, something slow and mournful. Cassandra wasn’t listening. She found herself watching Marianne’s niece –five year old Chelsie. Chelsie was too young to understand but she knew something awful had happened. She knew that her dearly beloved Aunt was never coming back. She didn’t understand why and she didn’t understand why they were burying her in the ground. She didn’t understand why Marianne didn’t just wake up. She wanted to go to her and ask her – but her mother held her back.

  Cassandra looked up. Something was wrong. Suddenly there were more people standing about, watching – strange people, completely out of place. But no one else seemed to see them. They were looking straight at her. There were three very tall, very ugly men with strange faces wearing hoods – the demons Lucifer, Asmodeous and Belial. There were also three handsome men and a beautiful woman, all four fierce and warlike – the Norse gods Odin, Thor and Bragi and the goddess Freya. Standing to the side there were three grave but graceful and peaceful figures - the archangels Gabriel, Michael and Rapheal. She knew that something very strange was happening. There was a young woman standing beside her. Cassandra spoke to her

  “Who are these people?” The young woman answered

  “I’m not allowed to say. But they’re all very interested in you.” Cassandra turned towards her, eyes wide with shock

  “Marianne!” The young woman replied softly

  “Hi Cassie.” Cassandra couldn’t believe what she was seeing

  “What are you doing here?” Marianne replied

  “I just wanted to say good bye
. I love you.” Cassandra choked up. She managed to reply

  “I love you too.” Marianne smiled sadly.

  “I have to go now.” She turned and walked towards the angels. Michael took her hand. They were surrounded by a glowing white light. They turned and walked further into it and then vanished. The other strangers watched all of this and then turned back to watch Cassandra. After a few more moments they too vanished. The ceremony was over now. People were starting to move away. Adrienne was still there but she hadn’t seen any of them. Cassandra didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

  Cassandra had no way of knowing but in forty days time she too would die, killed in what was widely taken to be a terrorist bombing of a train from London to Brighton. Nine days after that the world would end. In the fervid intensity of those final days as the world became aware of its own impending demise and descended into madness Marianne was the very last soul to fight its way out of the murky increasingly violent blood soaked depths and find its way back to the eternal peace and grace of God’s infinite embrace. Every one after her would end up in the pit, except Cassandra.

  Chapter 25 – Conquest of Paradise

  It felt like a very vivid dawn – bright, raw, and fraught with promise. They had gone through the portal and were now assembling in a large valley that opened out onto the Plains of Anticipation. They were assembled in between vast unscalable peaks - behind them the portal gateway back to Hell, ahead of them, across the plains, Heaven, Paradise. Lucifer himself lifted the battle horn and blew on it. Its mighty sound echoed over the valley, signalling the advance. Five hundred thousand demon warriors began to move forward and out onto the plains. In the far distance they could see the tips of the golden spires of Paradise, shining brightly, beckoning - a lingering dream, all but forgotten. Their lost and weary souls ached to be reunited with that which they could not understand but only long for - or failing that to take their revenge viciously and bloodily, without quarter. There was now no other sound to be heard except for the slow rumbling thunder of their steady motion across the plains. They were determined and resolute, their faces cold and hard – expecting at any moment to be confronted by the wrath and fury of God’s angels. Expecting to die the real death quickly and violently or to emerge victorious and then storm the walls of Paradise itself, from which they had been cast so many aeons ago. Jarrod could barely comprehend what he was seeing.

  Jarrod was at the centre of the charging mass riding on a large black stallion. Lucifer was riding beside him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cassandra. He was full of fury and hatred towards Belial. From time to time he’d had the strangest of feelings – almost of being turned inside out. He recognised this to be the initial stage of a reversion to demonic form and fought against it. He desperately wanted to stay the way he was. It would surely give him the power to destroy Belial but then he would have lost Cassandra anyway. He turned to Lucifer and spoke to him

  “I saw Belial go back through the portal with some of his legions, not long after we arrived.” Lucifer spoke with scorn

  “So did I. The cowardly fuck thinks we’re all going to be destroyed, leaving him in control. We’ll deal with him when we return. And you can have your bitch back too.” Jarrod chose not to respond to that. But he was also puzzled by the absence of Asmodeous. He asked

  “And what of Asmodeous?” Lucifer laughed derisively

  “That slimy little shit was never going to come with us. He thinks he’ll spend the rest of time locked away in his brothel playing with his toys. We’ll deal with him too. I am thoroughly sick of the both of them.” Jarrod was pleased to hear this. He was angry with Belial but he despised and hated Asmodoeus beyond all reason and he knew that that anger stretched back to the earliest of times. Looking out over the multitudes he could see Paimon and Marbas and even Gaap. Each of them had clearly decided not to defy Lucifer. But they seemed less than enthusiastic about it.

  They all continued the advance – neither Lucifer nor Jarrod said anything more. Jarrod was again thinking of Cassandra. Lucifer had the same bleak look as when he had described the presence and then the absence of God. Around them five hundred thousand warriors marched, each of them glaring ahead, saying nothing – preparing themselves for the final battle. They marched on and on. Finally, after many more hours their front line was within a mile of the gates of Paradise. The gates were closed, the golden walls high and forbidding, but apparently completely unmanned. Jarrod looked at Heaven and couldn’t believe what he was seeing - the city of God, vast and glorious and now standing there not much more than a mile in front of him. The front line troops were preparing battering rams and grappling hooks. Jarrod watched all of it with growing amazement. Why these archaic weapons? These ancient forms? But there was no time left for questions or idle speculation. Lucifer blew the great horn again, this time signalling the charge. Everyone surged forward. The front lines broke out into a mighty roar and started running for the walls.

  Suddenly there was an impossibly loud shrieking, piercing sound and a wide beam of bright burning light stabbed down out of the sky smashing into the ground right in front of the main gates. It expanded almost instantly into a twenty five mile wide wall of fire, white hot, screaming, separating the invading forces from the city of God and then, slowly at first but with increasing speed, moving towards them. The front line troops turned and fled but it caught up with them and vaporized them instantly. Jarrod watched it happen, somehow not feeling anything yet. He knew it was the real death – nonexistence, permanent extinction. He recalled the ancient monograph in his study and the lines carefully underlined. So this was God’s fist! Somehow this was what it was all about.

  All around him the troops were trying to flee – but he knew that they were all doomed. Lucifer charged forward, screaming at them to follow him but none did. The wall of fire surged forwards obliterating everything it touched – slaughtering them by the thousands. Finally it reached Lucifer – too proud to turn and run. He looked back briefly at Jarrod with hatred and disgust and then turned back towards the oncoming maelstrom, staring straight into it. It looked like he was trying to see through the flames into the unknown face of God. As the flames reached him he screamed out

  “Fuck you, asshole.” And then he was gone. Jarrod watched with growing satisfaction. Somehow he’d won, even if not for long. Not only that but Lucifer, the Satan himself – the Lord of Darkness, scourge of mankind, personification of evil, as Hitler alone, responsible for fifty million deaths and untold suffering - had been destroyed. Jarrod cried out

  “Sieg Heil Motherfucker.” And for just a moment he enjoyed his triumph.

  But now the wall of fire was closing in on him. He could think only of Cassandra - meeting her at Waterloo station, talking to her on the train, being asked out on a date, their brief moments of intimacy. He remembered fleeing together across the plains of desolation, outwitting madmen and conversing with gods. He remembered her smiling face, her bright shining eyes and her irrepressible spirit. He called out to her

  “Oh Cassandra, I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul. I would do anything for you. I wish, I yearn, for one more day with you. And then I could face oblivion with some small measure of happiness – but only knowing that you would continue on forever.” The wall of fire was approaching rapidly now. He could feel the heat of it starting to burn off his flesh. He also found himself trying to stare through it, to make out the face of the unknown unknowable God. He called out to him

  “You claim to be a God of justice. What possible justice is there in leaving her in that accursed and wretched place? Destroy me if you must. I deserve it. I am nothing. But you cannot leave her there. You just cannot.” The flame reached him. He braced for it. Then ... nothing happened. It passed through him and continued on. He looked around, astonished that he still existed. Behind him the wall of fire moved on, fast and furious. He could not see through it. Around him and in front of him there was nothing but charred and broken terrain, still smould
ering in places, everyone else gone. He was slightly burnt but basically unharmed. Ahead of him he could see the gates of Heaven. As he watched the main gate slowly opened. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Having no idea what to expect he entered the City of God and found himself walking along a wide straight promenade. There were large stately mansions on each side. They all had sweeping lawns and lush gardens but these had not been maintained and were growing wildly. He continued walking along the promenade and after some time come out onto a large square with a fountain in the middle of it. The whole place had a great sense of elegance about it but it was completely empty and devoid of all life. He noticed some kind of plaque at the base of the fountain and walked towards it. He had to get quite close in order to read it. It read