Fic: The fall of man

[jack]

The board room in heaven was made of golden light and mahogony, with half a dozen angels seated around a large meeting table with God at the head, and a chair conspicuously empty at the other end. Or so Gabe saw it. The others might see something entirely different, and no doubt God saw all of the things at once.

"So, Mike," God began. "How's the cleanup of the, uh, previous tenants going?"

"Good, sir!" growled Mike, throwing his shoulders back, and adjusting the hanging of his never-quite-incorporeal flaming sword across his back, to achieve that indescribable combination of standing-to-attention and sprawling-back-in-his-char. "With the exception of a few minor set-backs, which Gabe is going to cover later, they're controlled, and intercourse with the new creations has been curtailed."

God had made the world out of the formless void of chaos, but some of the choas was still wandering around in the form of giants and ifrits and such, and generally getting in the way.

"Our casualties are still zero, and we hope to drive all but the most intransigent out of the world before the creations spread further, or begin reliable recording. I particularly commend to you several of the young flaming-sword weilding angels who acquitted themselves well against a particularly mischievous gang of ifrits. And Luke was a great help all round."

"An Ifrit found Luke tweaking the gravity near one of the big mountains, and tried to tempt him," Gabe explained. "And bam!"

"Where actually is Luke?" asked God, glancing at the empty chair.

They glanced at each other. God's omniscience seemed to come and go in a most convenient and inconsistent fashion. If something went wrong, He'd often have someone fixing it up before you realised there was a problem. But other times, there'd be this great inquisition.

"He went out," said Rafe. "I told him about the meeting, and he said he'd be here. He said he was going to tune up the stars a little, get a nice twinkling effect."

We all smiled at the thought, and then cringed from God's sudden frown.

"OK," said God. "How about the knowledge of good and evil? And the naming of the animals?"

Rafe coughed bashfully. "Luke finished the knowledge of good and evil and shaped it into a fruit. Gabe reminded the humans not to touch it. They've been busy naming the animals; they've named all the classes and most of the distinctive individuals, and now they're distinguishing between the closely-related as fast as possible."

"Right," said God. "Now, we come to--"

He broke off as the doors crashed open and Luke strolled in. My mouth went dry. Mike is hunky as heck, and Rafe is the sweetest you ever did see, but Luke seriously glows. Radiant. It almost hurts your eyes. "How's it going?" he called. "You should see those stars. It's like a fucking nova up there, all twinkling away. Gabe, did you tell him they ate the tree of knowledge yet?"

There was a terrible silence. The other angles all glanced at God and then looked away. God looked at Gabe. "Gabe?" he said.

"Uh. Sir." Gabe began. "Um. Yes. Well, as Mike said, uh, he says most of the afrits are contained. There have been a few cross-breedings, a few other sightings, nothing major. But, one of them suck into the garden. Where the humans are. And tempted them. To eat the fruit. And they did. Um, both of them. And then, well, You know how You said modesty wasn't necessary? Well He wants to hide, but She doesn't. She says, what's the big deal? We're no more naked than before, we just know it. And can enjoy it. Now. And well, He doesn't need as much persuading as it looked like He might at first, and, well. The good news is, we'll probably have some more of them sooner than we expected. But the animals. Oh, the animals. They're no longer lying down together in a big furry snuggly heap every night. Oh, no. Well, some of them are. As are others of them. But not, you understand, both of their own volition or with all their meat on. It's awful..."

Gabe trailed off, and God swung His furious gaze back to Rafe. "I assume the plan can accomodate this?"

"The risk of failure has gone up dramatically," murmered Rafe, "but if we advance the schedule, the events still fit within the outer tolerances. We should still be able to build a self-sustaining world."

God slapped the table. Lightning flashed between His fingers and the walls shook. "Thank you, gentlemen, for bringing me up to date." The walls pulsed with light. "I suppose they haven't snaffled the fruit of immortality too? Rafe, you say the schedule can be advanced? OK, then we can move on to phase two. Gabe, go tell them. Mike, find that afrit! And put a guard on the garden behind them. And on the tree. Go!"

God's last command reverberated like thunder, and a great flash of light blinded the room. Gabe had a sensation of uncontrolled motion, and then found himself stumbling to a stop in the garden, near the tree, and watching the humans examining each other's bodies exhaustively with their newfound awareness.

He coughed politely, and then coughed again in an increasedly pointed fashion. The humans looked up at him. "What's up, Gabe?" he said.

"So, yeah. You ate the fruit, right?"

"Ah," he said.

"Yes, that," she said.

"Well, God found out."

"Of course," he said.

"He knows everything," she said.

"He's very cross!" Gabe snaped. "What the heck were you doing? Didn't you know it was wrong?"

"Well, no," she said.

"We didn't know about good and evil yet, remember?" he said.

"If He didn't want us to eat it, he shouldn't have made us blissful and trusting, and then put the tree right there, and then let the snake sneak into the garden, should He?" she said.

"Tut, tut, tut," he said.

"He's totally irresponsible," she said.

They looked around. On the far hills, thunderclouds were gathering, and the ground was beginning to shake with distant thunderclaps.

"Is Mike fighting those awful serpents?" he asked.

"Uh, maybe," said Gabe, "but I think that's probably an extension of God's wrath."

"Aw, but it's so cute," she said. "God's wrath takes the form of little rumbling noises."

"Hm," said Gabe. "I don't think they're actually little. I think they're just far away. And coming closer. And I think there's also rain, and lightning, and winds.."

"Oh, I like rain," she said. "It's so cute and delicate."

"Um," said Gabe. "I don't think this is that sort. I think it's the sort that's so cold and hard it really hurts when it hits you."

"Oh," said the man. "Oh dear. Well, it's not a probem. We'll just stay away from the river until it blows over."

"Um," said Gabe. "You know, outside the garden, the rain doesn't just fall on the rivers. It falls everywhere."

"That's stilly," she said. "The ground would get all slippy."

"And what if there was someone out there?" he said.

"Well," said Gabe. "They'd get wet. You'd get wet."

"Us?" she said.

"Yeah. I'm afraid... Um, sorry. God wants you to leave. And not come back. Sorry."

"But then... the rain! Can you ask God to stop the rain?" he said.

"Can you ask God to just never let it rain?" she said.

"Uh, guys," said Gabe, "That wouldn't be a good idea. You need rain. To grow crops."

"But there's lots of fruit already," he said.

"Unfortunately, outside the garden, um, they don't always just grow. You have to till the fields, plant the seeds, tend the plants."

"And what happens if we don't?" he asked.

"It's not like God can just let us starve to death," she said.

Gabe looked bashful. "I don't think He would. But that's what He said, so I really don't think you should test him."

The humans had begun to look crestfallen, and to actually think about the problem. "But how can we keep warm? Some of the animals have fur, but we don't."

"And what if one of us does die eventually? We're bound to have an accident eventually out there. There'll only be one human left ever."

"There are still ifrits out there. What if we meet them."

Gabe closed his eyes, and marshalled his next set of explanations.