BUT THIS IS TOO SOON. THERE IS
EVERYTHING.
And, with a flash of light, a figure clothed all in white appeared, holding a book in one hand.
It looked from Death to the endlessly massing ranks of the Auditors, and said: “Sorry? Is this the right place?”
Two Auditors were measuring the number of atoms in a paving slab.
They looked up at a movement.
“Good afternoon,” said Lu-Tze. “May I draw your attention to the notice my assistant is holding up?”
Susan held up the sign. It read: Mouths Must Be Open. By Order.
And Lu-Tze unfolded his hands. There was a caramel in each one, and he was a good shot.
The mouths shut. The faces went impassive. Then there was a sound somewhere between a purr and a wail, which disappeared into the ultrasonic. And then… the Auditors dissolved, gently, first going fuzzy around the edges and, as the process accelerated, swiftly becoming a spreading cloud.
“Hand-to-mouth fighting,” said Lu-Tze. “Why doesn't it happen to humans?”
“It nearly does,” said Susan, and when they stared at her she blinked and said, “To stupid, indulgent humans, anyway.”
“
“No, there's six in one of W&B's Gold Selections,” said Susan. “Three have got white chocolate cream in dark chocolate and three have got whipped cream in milk chocolate. They're the ones in the silver wrapp—Look, I just happen to
BUT YOU ARE DEMONSTRATING ARROGANCE, PRIDE AND STUPIDITY. THESE ARE EMOTIONS. I WOULD SAY THEY ARE SIGNS OF LIFE.
“Excuse me?” said the shining figure in white.
“Excuse
YES? said Death. WHAT IS IT?
“This is
WE ARE
“Yes, right, but
YES, said Death. IT IS.
“Great!” said the figure.
WHAT? said Death.
The figure looked embarrassed.
“Well, not great,
Death glanced at the book. The cover and all the pages were made of iron. Realization dawned.
YOU ARE THE ANGEL CLOTHED ALL IN WHITE OF THE IRON BOOK FROM THE PROPHECIES OF TOBRUN, AM I CORRECT?
“That's right!” The pages clanged as the angel hurriedly thumbed through them. “And it's clothed, by the way, if you don't mind. Clo-the
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THIS, said Death, ignoring the interruption. BUT YOU ARE NOT OFFICIAL.
The pages stopped clanking.
“What do you mean?” said the angel suspiciously.
THE BOOK OF TOBRUN HAS NOT BEEN CONSIDERED OFFICIAL CHURCH DOGMA FOR A HUNDRED YEARS. THE PROPHET BRUTHA REVEALED THAT THE WHOLE CHAPTER WAS A METAPHOR FOR A POWER STRUGGLE WITHIN THE EARLY CHURCH. IT IS NOT INCLUDED IN THE REVISED VERSION OF THE BOOK OF OM, AS DETERMINED BY THE CONVOCATION OF EE.
“Not at all?”
I'M SORRY.
“I've been thrown out? Just like the damn rabbits and the big syrupy things?”
YES.
“Even the bit where I blow the trumpet?”
OH, YES.
“You sure?”
ALWAYS.
“But you are Death and this is the Apocalypse, right?” said the angel, looking wretched. “So therefore —”
UNFORTUNATELY, HOWEVER, YOU ARE NO LONGER A FORMAL PART OF THE PROCEEDINGS.
Out of the corner of his mind, Death was observing the Auditor. Auditors always listened when people spoke. The more people spoke, the closer to consensus every decision came, and the less responsibility anyone had. But the Auditor was showing signs of impatience and annoyance…
Emotions. And emotions made you
The angel looked around at the universe. “Then what am
“One big scene. That's all I had. That was my
He glared at the rusted pages. “It ought to be Pestilence next,” he muttered.
“Am I late, then?” said a voice in the night.
A horse walked forward. It gleamed unhealthily, like a gangrenous wound just before the barber-surgeon would be called in with his hacksaw for a quick trim.
I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T COMING, said Death.
“I didn't want to,” Pestilence oozed, “but humans do get such interesting diseases. I'd rather like to see