I remember Lucifer.
I'm not surprised that he managed to get so many to
follow him: the Light that was in him to the very end
could blind the unwary to his faults and mistakes. He
was everywhere in those days, talking and cajoling and
raising those ever-so-polite points in Council debate.
He talked to everybody, in the end, which is
something that my colleagues decline to publicly
remember. And he knew what to offer people: Lucifer
always had that knack.
What did he offer me? No, that's not an impudent
question: I'm just not going to tell you. You see,
while he knew what to offer people, he wasn't nearly
as good in making offers that others couldn't refuse
as he thought he was. Frankly, aside from everything
else, what he offered me in exchange for my support
was so insulting that I nearly laughed in his face.
Even if I had agreed with his central thesis about the
nature of Man, the clumsy way that Lucifer tried to
seduce my allegiance would have been enough for me to
send him on his way. Soon afterwards, the First
Revolt made everything moot.
He tried coming for me during that time, you know, but
that didn't work out nearly the way that he thought
it would. I led him on a merry chase, right from the
start, until his pursuit somehow, unaccountably, led
him straight into Michael's path. Amusing, that was:
I wonder if he thought about it, during those lonely
years afterwards? I wonder if he suspected that I had
tricked him into underestimating me?
Aside from that, the First Revolt was just as bloody,
just as traumatic and just as pointless as the records
show. Those poor fools were fighting against God,
after all: I noted their eventual fates, and made
quite sure that I would never fall into their foolish
pride. It was all so, so ... futile.
But it did do wonders for my career, not that I
thought in those terms at the time. With so many
Archangels dead or gone, the Seraphim Council needed
new members, and I was more than happy to put my
shoulder to the burden. Those centuries afterwards
were wonderful: we saw what needed doing, and did it.
We moved among humanity and protected them without
stifling them. No one opposed us: true, we noticed
after a while that Lilith was still somehow alive, but
she wasn't considered a real threat. Indeed, she was
a most interesting conversationalist.
Why, yes, I spoke with Lilith during the Golden Age.
I still do, in fact: there's a certain - commonality
of circumstances - between us.
Unfortunately, not all of my colleagues saw things the
same way. The Council doesn't exactly publicize the
fact that it was an overzealous Janus that persecuted
Lilith to the point that it seemed she would be
destroyed. I've never really understood why they hate
each other so. I know, Janus says that he wishes
she would change sides, but that's only so that he
could get a clear shot. At any rate, it finally
reached the point where Lilith apparently felt it
necessary to release the prisoners in Hell. I thought
that this was wrong, mind, but I am not completely
surprised.
It was the response of Heaven to the new condition
that opened my eyes. It was as if the First Revolt
had never ended, merely ... expanded to all three
planes. All of my fellow Archangels went mad, it
seemed - except for me, and I had to feign madness
with the rest. The First Incursion became the
Campaign, then the War, and it has never, ever stopped
since then - and it remains under the thumbs of those
least suited to do what is necessary to stop it. They
would much rather battle and fight their opposite
numbers until the end of time, and never mind those
poor humans who were in the way.
This could not be borne, so I began to plan.
The first step required inhuman patience, but then I
am not a human being. I spent millennia crafting my
persona, refining my Servitors, watching my
opposition. It is no accident that Michael and
Dominic do not like me much: my public face is
designed to aggravate them to the point of insanity.
Of course, my status as an Archangel makes it possible
to block their Seraphic gaze, so they do not know my
inner Heart. Making myself pleasant to most of the
others was an easy enough exercise: it helps that I
am a genuinely friendly and helpful entity. I
simply have hidden depths and motives. The only one
that could see through my ... outer shell ... was
Yves, and he has never said anything. I am unsure
why, but I stopped concerning myself with that a long
time ago.
But no Archangel can hope to change things alone. I
needed Servitors to be my arms, eyes and ears.
However, there was the Inquisition to deal with;
Dominic could not penetrate my glamour, but none of my
angels were so blessed. It took me a while to
consider how to work around the Archangel of
Judgement.
When I finally did, it was so obvious. Dominic's
major obsession is rooted in his desperate need to
keep angels from Falling, no matter what. Most of his
work involves sniffing out those with a hidden agenda
along those lines. It never seems to have seriously
crossed his mind that someone might have a hidden
agenda about anything else. By now, the collective
perception of my Servitors is that they, aside from a
tendency to work with the Enemy in an inappropriate
manner at times, are fairly harmless. It has taken me
centuries to foster this belief.
Working with the Enemy is, of course, something that
every non-Malakite Archangel does (and I have my
suspicions about David at times). This insane War has
made such activities a regrettable necessity. So I
let mine do the same, and make sure that their
activities are almost hidden from the Inquisition.
You see, there is nothing that makes a policeman more
suspicious than a person with nothing to hide. Give
them an obvious thing to see, and they gratefully
concentrate on it.
Dominic's agents could uncover my activities in an
afternoon, if they asked the right questions. It
simply never occurs to them to ask. Why should they?
They have enough trouble searching out Heretics to
worry about political machinations. All Archangels
play politics. I am careful to avoid doing things
that would result in even a reliever's Fall (if such a
thing is even possible): by now, the concept that
whatever actions me and mine do in Heaven are
essentially meaningless has become institutionalized
among Servitors of Judgement. The records that would
reveal my plans languish unread, kept only because
none dare throw them out. Of course, no Servitor of
mine assigned to Earth duty is ever involved in ...
other matters. Things are kept separate.
And what is the thing so cleverly hidden in clear
sight, the thing that has caused me to blur my true
face to all? Not much of a thing, really. I -
insinuate myself into Heaven. My Servitors are
everywhere by now - and they are so genuinely friendly
and helpful that others are more than happy to be
helpful in their turn. Each little act of favor and
counter-favor, seen by itself, is insignificant - but
multiply it by a million times, and you could see my
daily round of influence-gathering. Instead of one
great lever to move the world, I have a multitude of
little ones.
And I use them. Everyone - except for those in Hell,
of course - has at least one entity for whom they
would do a favor for without hesitation. My Servitors
are often those entities (or know someone who knows
someone who is that entity). They do not see the big
picture, naturally: most do not even know that there
/is/ a big picture. But they are always ready to make
me smile and thank them for helping. Especially
helpful are those whom I have Redeemed (and I Redeem
many, many demons): they know, as well they should,
that I am the one who has brought them to this blessed
state they now enjoy, and few can bear to not show
their appreciation. It helps that I love them all, of
course: I could not hope to fake that, and have no
intention of ever letting myself get to a state where
I would have to try.
But I can hear the inevitable question: "Why"? Why
have I woven strands of influence and patronage
throughout Heaven? It's a simple answer: I wish this
War to end. The mindset that my colleagues labor
under has produced only stalemate. Every second that
it continues is a second where countless human lives
are at risk. It must stop.
It has been only recently that I have developed hopes
of accomplishing this. I do not command any
Superior's organization beside my own, but I can
exercise limited control over most of them. A word in
the right ear, multiplied a thousand times, and
policies can be subtly shaped, priorities reassigned
or pointless activities abandoned.
Very few issues are brought up in the Seraphim Council
that I do not know about months in advance: with such
knowledge, I can prepare, shape, control the agenda.
For example, Christopher is an Archangel because I
decided that he should be one: that was merely one of
my more dramatic successes, and all the better because
no one, not even the Seraphim Archangels themselves,
detected my delicate touch. They could, of course, if
they thought to ask the correct questions: but again,
no one ever thinks to. Clear sight is useless if one
does not bother to look.
But that is only the first step. Now that I have the
tools, after millennia of patient effort, I shall use
them. Those amenable to my fifth-hand assistance will
rise in their respective organizations. Some will
even reach the Council themselves. A few may
eventually become Archangels. All of them will be
predisposed to look upon me fondly, as the Superior of
their dear friends. I am growing my own political
allies.
And, when I have enough, well, there will be some
changes made around here.
It is not easy, of course: I sit in the center,
surrounded by my loyal and loving angels (and give
them back that loyalty and love tenfold), and try to
steer the course of a creaking and clumsy ship from
the metaphorical cafeteria. I am on a one-Archangel
quest to save the Earth, and there is no one yet who
can help shoulder my burden. If I fail, then we will
fight and slay until we will all be dead for nothing.
It is lonely, at times.
However, when times are at their most chaotic and
confused, I take some comfort in an old human saying.
It may just be the most profound thing ever said on
the corporeal plane, in fact:
Mother Knows Best.
Back to the INC Mainpage.
Back to the Fiction page.
Send mail to the Curator