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Gabriel is having a splendid day. So is Sandalphon. It is one spent in heaven, see. Sandalphon is about to communicate some bad news to his fellow angel, but do not worry. A day spend in the company of an Archangel’s constitution is not so easily ruined.
“The mind of a human now has access to memories of the future.” says Sandalphon, when describing the happenings in an otherwise unremarkable British village.
This is not so simple or straightforward a feat as it may seem. The maneuvers the eight-year-old mind of Agnes Nutter had performed can not be accurately described using only three spatial dimensions.
“Very impressive,” Gabriel booms. “Aziraphale’s recent report speaks of demonic interference in the area. I expect hell will deal with the situation shortly.”
Hell is indeed planning to deal with Agnes Nutter, witch. Their plans are consecutively burned, rewritten, dropped into one of the deeper pits, forgotten about for several decades, recovered—by an intern who soon finds himself wishing he had never brought it up—and assigned to Hastur and Ligur.
Two demons lurk by Agnes Nutter’s cottage. Their plan is as follows: lurk with vigour. When done properly, this forms an aura of malintent in the chosen area.
Most human minds are as closed off awake as they are asleep. Any evil suffusing the air is easily ignored. This is why towards the end of the night, Old man Billy is not woken by demonic fumes.
The mind of a future-seer is susceptible not only to those events yet to come, but also to the presence of demons in its owners immediate future. Hastur and Ligurs plan relies on this, as this leads to an attempted escape via a mad dash outside. The demons appropriately waited by the door.
When these events unexpectedly refuse to leave the bounds of the theoretical, Hastur screams. Demonically
Old age has not been kind to Old man Billy. It has taken his wife, his dog, and his knees creak as he leaves his bed. His hearing, however, has not suffered in the slightest. He is aware of the screaming by his neighbours door before he awakes.
As mad a dash an old man can manage finally occurs. Instead of the expected witch, Old man Billy appears, demanding, “What brings you outside at this time, you damned klazomaniac! Begone, and lurk elsewhere!”
“Living here is a woman who knows the future,” says Hastur.
Old man Billy nods. Agnes had introduced herself thusly the day she moved in.
“That is a door that should never be opened,” he says.
Ligur kicks in Agnes’ door. “It’s open.” It’s also broken.
“Ay, she who you seek is not here. She visits her daughter, who lives in the city.” says Old man Billy.
“Lubberwort,” Hastur swears. “You shall dream of death and destruction. Your death and destruction.”
Old man Billy shakes his head. The youth is getting more audacious every day. Today, they kick in doors and wear animals as hats. He head back inside. He has a nightmare planned, and he dislikes procrastination.
Hastur and Ligur perform a last bit of lurking, then leave for the city. Neither of them know what city they are looking for. They head in the same direction, but it is only coincidence. Their reasons are completely different. They won’t figure it out until next week, when they think to discuss where they are going.
Agnes returns a few days later, tired but refreshed. As promised, the carpenter has installed a new door. It opens smoothly, and Agnes steps inside.
Exhausted, she puts down her luggage. Dinner first, she decides, then she needs to put the finishing touches on her book. She only has so long before her appointment with the stake.
Hastur and Ligur spend the next half a century lurking in every city they can find. By the time they throw in the proverbial damp, exhausted towel, a witchfinder major has long since done their work for them. They congratulate each other on a job done slothfully terribly.
Gabriel and Sandalphon continue to spend splendid days in heaven. reports from earth no longer mention any demonic going ons in the area. Gabriel and Sandalphon congratulate each other on a job well done and send Aziraphale an encouraging note.
Old man Billy suffered a troubled night. He woke up covered in a cold sweat, exhausted, as people tend to do after facing their own impending doom. He does not have the slightest clue what he dreamt of. All he knows is that he never wishes to dream of it again. He is left with no more than a distaste for young people in combination with doors. Sometimes, he can be heard yelling obscenities to teenagers who slam them.
In the village, all is as it was. Plus or minus one door.