Work Text:
Personal log of the Holy Archangel Michael, 17th September, 1800 — London-on-Earth years.
It’s been quite a day—that is for sure. Not much else feels certain.
One always trusts the Glory of Heaven and the Ineffable Plan, of course. But so much happened, and so fast, that this quiet moment I’m taking to write in my journal and take stock of the situation is more than precious: it’s absolutely necessary.
Let’s start from the beginning.
I was going once more through the Guide to Earth Uses and Customs that the Archangel Sandalphon wrote to help me, as I was to take on the position of field agent down there—a most kind gift, though possibly not very thoroughly researched; but one must appreciate the effort—when the Most Holy Archangel Gabriel barged in my office. He told me that there had been a change of plans. As he was “conducting some very delicate business” in London, he’d overheard a most interesting conversation: the demon Crowley was explaining to one of his minions how he is nothing short of terrified of our Aziraphale. After this new intelligence, the only logical conclusion was that I would remain in the Head Office, and the Principality would keep his current position.
I couldn’t help thinking that, even if it was indeed a logical conclusion, the premise sounded slightly off: in his latest report, Aziraphale had described his position with the demon Crowley as “locked in a stall.” Far from me to question the Most Holy Archangel, of course; even if he sometimes seems slightly more enthusiastic than actually bright, he is our leader, and it’s not for an angel to doubt the Ineffable Hierarchy. But I decided to go to the Observation Department, just to assuage any doubts.
I have to confess that I don’t know what I expected to see there. I know that I didn’t expect anything more than a few glimpses of this famous Tempter who seemed to have put our agent to the test for so many centuries.
How wrong I was.
The Observers have recorded everything in detail, from multiple viewpoints. And by looking at what was happening not only from the perspective of Gabriel—whose “very delicate business” was to buy some clothes; but who am I to judge?—I saw that the conversation between Crowley and his “minion” was staged. It was just the demon, and a mannequin in a black cloak. And what a pantomime! As if villains walked around draped in a black cloak. And a ridiculous accent... A bad attempt at Scottish?
I was about to leave and inform Gabriel, when one of the Observers came by and asked me if I, “really didn’t want to know everything?” They were wearing that slightly unsettling smile that everyone in that Department seems to have, as if they knew everything going on not only in your acts—which they do, of course—but in your mind and soul, too, and they were gently but inexorably nudging you towards your Ineffably Ordained Duty.
So I couldn’t leave. I waited to see more. And how much more that was.
It looks like our Aziraphale has been in close contact with the demon Crowley for millennia. They’ve been associating, consorting, fraternising… whatever one wishes to call it. They’ve gone as far as working each other’s assignments. And, most troubling of all, the Observation Files record them together in all sorts of... well. They’ve been enjoying everything that passes as “pleasures” on Earth. They had indeed “locked in a stall” around the time of that report: a literal one, behind a restaurant in Paris. The only struggle between them was the one to remove each other’s clothes as efficiently as possible.
To add insult to injury, less than an hour after tricking the Most Holy Archangel Gabriel, the Tempter was in Aziraphale’s bookshop with a box of chocolates, a bunch of flowers, and a bottle of wine. “To celebrate the Opening.” They were laughing.
I should be shocked. Angry. Furious. But all I can think of right now is— I’m impressed. And a bit intrigued.
Maybe I should’ve known. I’d always thought that Aziraphale was a bit peculiar. A strange thing, when all of us angels should be of one mind.
Well, now I know.
Just as I know what an incredible job the Observation Department is doing, every day. Keeping a constant eye on all of us, and to everything and everyone in our surroundings.
Keeping a constant eye even on Gabriel. Even on the Most Holy Archangel…
Well, they’re certainly good at what they do.
I keep thinking of all those rooms full of shelves, and all of those shelves full of files; and in all those files, I’m certain, a full record of each and every move of each and every one of us…
Truly, it’s remarkable. Slightly worried that we’re all one wrong step away from— No. I’m not worried.
Some of us have nothing to hide.
Some of us have spent the past 5,803 years doing their job without complaining. Not once. Not even when ordered to move from the perfect space of the Head Office to that messy planet whose destiny is only to be turned into dust by the Great Battle, whenever that will be.
Some of us have kept nothing for themselves and given all to the cause. They’ve gone where they were told to go, tirelessly. They’ve done what they had to do, selflessly. They’ve waited when they were told to wait, patiently. They’ve been single-mindedly committed to our Great Plan—to bring forth the Glory of Heaven.
Some of us—but unfortunately not all of us.
Or maybe it’s simpler: our agent in London is not one of us. What he is, I don’t know. Not yet.
But I’m sure we’ll find a way to correct this imperfection. It cannot be otherwise: our side is destined for the final victory. We will bring forth the Glory of Heaven, come what may: this much we all know. Even if we have a thousand double agents in our midst, we will fight and triumph. And so there must be an Ineffable way to turn around—maybe even to exploit—this most distressing situation.
To exploit it… That sounds right. It must be part of the Great Plan—everything is—and as such, it must be a tool that She put in our hands.
But how to do it?
First things first. Let’s be logical. There is no reason to be any less efficient than usual.
I could report Aziraphale, here and now. But what would happen then? I’d end up on Earth—not that I’d ever complain—and he’d end up… well, he’d probably end, period. The whole affair would be so embarrassing. Gabriel would feel wretched, I am sure.
There has to be a better strategy.
What if I were to forget about the whole incident? Angelically forgive and… No, with an angelic memory, forgetting is not possible. And the Observation Department never forgets anyway. I’d be marked as an accomplice—and rightfully so, of course.
Not reporting, not forgetting: then the only possible option is to keep an eye on this peculiar relationship between our agent and…
Good Lord. An angel and a demon. I thought we didn’t even speak the same language, after all these millennia—something that’s worth researching as soon as possible: to know our enemies, of course, not to collaborate with them. Those two probably communicate in some earthly language—it would fit the profile, as both of them seem very fond of everything human.
Both of them.
They look so alike, sometimes, in those Observation Files. As if they had more in common with each other than with their superiors.
Lust and Gluttony and Sloth are some of the Opposition’s, but I wonder if they know that their agent has been performing blessings. I doubt it: from Downstairs they cannot see very much; and they will never be capable of matching our glorious technologies.
I wonder if sharing this information with them, at the right time, could play in our favour. Anything could be a weapon in our Ineffable Fight.
I am sure that there will be a right time to share this information with Gabriel and the others, of course. Not now, but eventually. When it can lead to something more than my relocation onto that planet—not that I’d ever complain. And, of course, not that I’d ever use another angel’s failings to further my station in Heaven. I’m just following the best strategy, given the unfortunate circumstances we happen to be in.
It’s a long game. But some of us don’t need to squander their time and resources on chocolate and wine and books and all those frivolities. Some of us are patient. Some of us can wait. Some of us will get what they want—which is only to bring forth the Glory of Heaven, of course.
So, it’s decided: we will wait. And I am sure that we will see even more than we could ever dream of.