(The first day of the rest of their lives) 14 страница

And while it flowed where it should not, it ebbed from its normal beds. In cities the traffic lights went, then the street lights, then all the lights. Cooling fans slowed, flickered, and stopped. Heaters faded into darkness. Lifts stuck. Radio stations choked off, their soothing music silenced.

It has been said that civilization is twenty& #8209; four hours and two meals away from barbarism.

Night was spreading slowly around the spinning Earth. It should have been full of pinpricks of light. It was not.

There were five billion people down there. What was going to happen soon would make barbarism look like a picnic& #8209; hot, nasty, and eventually given over to the ants.

* * * * *

D eath straightened up. He appeared to be listening intently. It was anyone's guess what he listened with.

HE IS HERE, he said.

The other three looked up. There was a barely perceptible change in the way they stood there. A moment before Death had spoken they, the part of them that did not walk and talk like human beings, had been wrapped around the world. Now they were back.

More or less.

There was a strangeness about them. It was as if, instead of ill-fitting suits, they now had ill& #8209; fitting bodies. Famine looked as though he had been tuned slightly off& #8209; station, so that the hitherto dominant signal of a pleasant, thrusting, successful businessman& #8209; was beginning to be drowned out by the ancient, horrible static of his basic personality. War's skin glistened with sweat. Pollution's skin just glistened.

" It's all. . . taken care of, " said War, speaking with some effort. " It'll. . , take its course. "

" It's not just the nuclear, " Pollution said. " It's the chemical. Thousands of gallons of stuff in. . , little tanks all over the world. Beautiful liquids. . . with eighteen syllables in their names. And the. . . old standbys. Say what you like. Plutonium may give you grief for thousands of years, but arsenic is forever. "

" And then. . . winter, " said Famine. " I like winter. There's something. . . clean about winter. "

" Chickens coming. . . home to roost, " said War.

" No more chickens, " said Famine, flatly.

Only Death hadn't changed. Some things don't.

– – -

The Four left the building. It was noticeable that Pollution, while still walking, nevertheless gave the impression of oozing.

And this was noticed by Anathema and Newton Pulsifer.

It had been the first building they'd come to. It had seemed much safer inside than out, where there seemed to be a lot of excitement. Anathema had pushed open a door covered in signs that suggested that this would be a terminally dangerous thing to do. It had swung open at her touch. When they'd gone inside, it had shut and locked itself.

There hadn't been a lot of time to discuss this after the Four had walked in.

" What were they? " said Newt. " Some kind of terrorists? "

" In a very nice and accurate sense, " said Anathema, " I think you're right. "

" What was all that weird talk about? "

" I think possibly the end of the world, " said Anathema. " Did you see their auras? "

" I don't think so, " said Newt.

" Not nice at all. "

" Oh. "

" Negative auras, in fact. "

" Oh? "

" Like black holes. "

" That's bad, is it? "

" Yes. "

Anathema glared at the rows of metal cabinets. For once, just now, because it wasn't just for play but was for real, the machinery that was going to bring about the end of the world, or at least that part of it that occupied the layers between about two meters down and all the way to the ozone layer, wasn't operating according to the usual script. There were no big red canisters with flashing lights. There were no coiled wires with a " cut me" look about them. No suspiciously large numeric displays were counting down toward a zero that could be averted with seconds to spare. Instead, the metal cabinets looked solid and heavy and very resistant to last& #8209; minute heroism.

" What takes its course? " said Anathema. " They've done something, haven't they? "

" Perhaps there's an off switch? " said Newt helplessly. " I'm sure if we looked around& #8209; "

" These sort of things are wired in. Don't be silly. I thought you knew about this sort of thing. "

Newt nodded desperately. This was a long way from the pages of Easy Electronics. For the look of the thing, he peered into the back of one of the cabinets.

" Worldwide communications, " he said indistinctly. " You could do practically anything. Modulate the mains power, tap into satellites. Absolutely anything. You could" -zhip& #8209; " argh, you could" zhap& #8209; " ouch, make things do" zipt& #8209; " uh, just about" & #8209; zzap& #8209; " ooh. "

" How are you getting on in there? "

Newt sucked his fingers. So far he hadn't found anything that resembled a transistor. He wrapped his hand in his handkerchief and pulled a couple of boards out of their sockets.

Once, one of the electronics magazines to which he subscribed had published a joke circuit which was guaranteed not to work. At last, they'd said in an amusing way, here's something all you ham& #8209; fisted hams out there can build in the certain knowledge that if it does nothing, it's working. It had diodes the wrong way round, transistors upside down, and a flat battery. Newt had built it, and it picked up Radio Moscow. He'd written them a letter of complaint, but they never replied.

" I really don't know if I'm doing any good, " he said.

" James Bond just unscrews things, " said Anathema.

" Not just unscrews, " said Newt, his temper fraying. " And I'm not" zhip& #8209; " James Bond. If I was" & #8209; whizzle& #8209; " the bad guys would have shown me all the megadeath levers and told me how they bloody well worked, wouldn't they? " & #8209; Fwizzpt& #8209; " Only it doesn't happen like that in real life? I don't know what's happening and I can't stop it. "

- – -

Clouds churned around the horizon. Overhead the sky was still clear, the air torn by nothing more than a light breeze. But it wasn't normal air. It had a crystallized look to it, so that you might feel that if you turned your head you might see new facets. It sparkled. If you had to find a word to describe it, the word thronged might slip insidiously into your mind. Thronged with insubstantial beings awaiting only the right moment to become very substantial.

Adam glanced up. In one sense there was just clear air overhead. In another, stretching off to infinity, were the hosts of Heaven and Hell, wingtip to wingtip. If you looked really closely, and had been specially trained, you could tell the difference.

Silence held the bubble of the world in its grip.

The door of the building swung open and the Four stepped out. There was no more than a hint of human about three of them now& #8209; they seemed to be humanoid shapes made up of all the things they were or represented. They made Death seem positively homely. His leather greatcoat and dark& #8209; visored helmet had become a cowled robe, but these were mere details. A skeleton, even a walking one, is at least human; Death of a sort lurks inside every living creature.

" The thing is, " said Adam urgently, " they're not really real. They're just like nightmares, really. "

" B& #8209; but we're not asleep, " said Pepper.

Dog whined and tried to hide behind Adam.

" That one looks as if he's meltin', " said Brian, pointing at the advancing figure, if such it could still be called, of Pollution.

" There you are, then, " said Adam, encouragingly. " It can't be real, can it? It's common sense. Something like that can't be reelly real. "

The Four halted a few meters away.

IT HAS BEEN DONE, said Death. He leaned forward a little and stared eyelessly at Adam. It was hard to tell if he was surprised.

" Yes, well, " said Adam. " The thing is, I don't want it done. I never asked for it to be done. "

Death looked at the other three, and then back to Adam.

Behind them a jeep skewed to a halt. They ignored it.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND, he said. SURELY YOUR VERY EXISTENCE REQUIRES THE ENDING OF THE WORLD. IT IS WRITTEN.

" I dunt see why anyone has to go an' write things like that, " said Adam calmly. " The world is full of all sorts of brilliant stuff and I haven't found out all about it yet, so I don't want anyone messing it about or endin' it before I've had a chance to find out about it. So you can all just go away. "

(" That's the one, Mr. Shadwell, " said Aziraphale, his words trailing into uncertainty even as he uttered them, " the one with T& #8209; shirt. . . " )

Death stared at Adam.

" You. . . are part. . . of us, " said War, between teeth like beautiful bullets.

" It is done. We make. . . the. . . world. . . anew, " said Pollution, his voice as insidious as something leaking out of a corroded drum into a water table.

" You. . . lead. . . us, " said Famine.

And Adam hesitated. Voices inside him still cried out that this was true, and that the world was his as well, and all he had to do was turn and lead them out across a bewildered planet. They were his kind of people.

In tiers above, the hosts of the sky waited for the Word.

(" Ye canna want me to shoot him! He's but a bairn! "

" Er, " said Aziraphale. " Er. Yes. Perhaps we'd just better wait a bit, what do you think? "

" Until he grows up, do you mean? " said Crowley. )

Dog began to growl.

Adam looked at the Them. They were his kind of people, too.

You just had to decide who your friends really were.

He turned back to the Four.

" Get them, " said Adam, quietly.

The slouch and slur was gone from his voice. It had strange harmonics. No one human could disobey a voice like that.

War laughed, and looked expectantly at the Them.

" Little boys, " she said, " playing with your toys. Think of all the toys I can offer you. . . think of all the games. I can make you fall in love with me, little boys. Little boys with your little guns. "

She laughed again, but the machine& #8209; gun stutter died away as Pepper stepped forward and raised a trembling arm.

It wasn't much of a sword, but it was about the best you could do with two bits of wood and a piece of string. War stared at it.

" I see, " she said. " Mano a mano, eh? " She drew her own blade and brought it up so that it made a noise like a finger being dragged around a wineglass.

There was a flash as they connected.

Death stared into Adam's eyes.

There was a pathetic jingling noise.

" Don't touch it! " snapped Adam, without moving his head.

The Them stared at the sword rocking to a standstill on the concrete path.

" 'Little boys, ' " muttered Pepper, disgustedly. Sooner or later everyone has to decide which gang they belong to.

" But, but, " said Brian, " she sort of got sucked up the sword& #8209; "

The air between Adam and Death began to vibrate, as in a heatwave.

Wensleydale raised his head and looked Famine in the sunken eye. He held up something that, with a bit of imagination, could be considered to be a pair of scales made of more string and twigs. Then he whirled it around his head.

Famine stuck out a protective arm.

There was another flash, and then the jingle of a pair of silver scales bouncing on the ground.

" Don't. . . touch. . . them, " said Adam.

Pollution had already started to run, or at least to flow quickly, but Brian snatched the circle of grass stalks from his own head and flung it. It shouldn't have handled like one, but a force took it out of his hands and it whirred like a discus.

This time the explosion was a red flame inside a billow of black smoke, and it smelled of oil.

With a rolling, tinny little sound a blackened silver crown bowled out of the smoke and then spun round with a noise like a settling penny.

At least they needed no warning about touching it. It glistened in a way that metal should not.

" Where'd they go? " said Wensley.

WHERE THEY BELONG, said Death, still holding Adam's gaze. WHERE THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN. BACK IN THE MINDS OF MAN.

He grinned at Adam.

There was a tearing sound. Death's robe split and his wings unfolded. Angel's wings. But not of feathers. They were wings of night, wings that were shapes cut through the matter of creation into the darkness underneath, in which a few distant lights glimmered, lights that may have been stars or may have been something entirely else.

BUT I, he said, AM NOT LIKE THEM. I AM AZRAEL, CREATED TO BE CREATION'S SHADOW. YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME. THAT WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD.

The heat of their stare faded. Adam scratched his nose.

" Oh, I don't know, " he said. " There might be a way. " He grinned back.

" Anyway, it's going to stop now, " he said. " All this stuff with the machines. You've got to do what I say just for now, and I say it's got to stop. "

Death shrugged. IT IS STOPPING ALREADY, he said. WITHOUT THEM, he indicated the pathetic remnants of the other three Horsepersons, IT CANNOT PROCEED. NORMAL ENTROPY TRIUMPHS. Death raised a bony hand in what might have been a salute.

THEY'LL BE BACK, he said. THEY'RE NEVER FAR AWAY.

The wings flapped, just once, like a thunderclap, and the angel of Death vanished.

" Right, then, " said Adam, to the empty air. " All right. It's not going to happen. All the stuff they started& #8209; it must stop now. "

* * * * *

N ewt stared desperately at the equipment racks.

" You'd think there'd be a manual or something, " he said.

" We could see if Agnes has anything to say, " volunteered Anathema.

" Oh, yes, " said Newt bitterly. " That makes sense, does it? Sabotaging twentieth& #8209; century electronics with the aid of a seventeenth& #8209; century workshop manual? What did Agnes Nutter know of the transistor? "

" Well, my grandfather interpreted prediction 3328 rather neatly in 1948 and made some very shrewd investments, " said Anathema. " She didn't know what it was going to be called, of course, and she wasn't very sound about electricity in general, but& #8209; "

" I was speaking rhetorically. "

" You don't have to make it work, anyway. You have to stop it working. You don't need knowledge for that, you need ignorance. "

Newt groaned.

" All right, " he said wearily. " Let's try it. Give me a prediction. "

Anathema pulled out a card at random.

" 'He is Not that Which He Says he Is, " ' she read. " It's number 1002. Very simple. Any ideas? "

" Well, look, " said Newt, wretchedly, " this isn't really the time to say it but, " & #8209; he swallowed& #8209; " actually I'm not very good with electronics. Not very good at all. "

" You said you were a computer engineer, I seem to remember. "

" That was an exaggeration. I mean, just about as much of an exaggeration as you can possibly get, in fact, really, I suppose it was more what you might call an an overstatement. I might go so far as to say that what it really was, " Newt closed his eyes, " was a prevarication. "

" A lie, you mean? " said Anathema sweetly.

" Oh, I wouldn't go that far, " said Newt. " Although, " he added, " I'm not actually a computer engineer. At all. Quite the opposite. "

" What's the opposite? "

" If you must know, every time I try and make anything electronic work, it stops. "

Anathema gave him a bright little smile, and posed theatrically, like that moment in every conjurer's stage act when the lady in the sequins steps back to reveal the trick.

" Tra& #8209; la, " she said.

" Repair it, " she said.

" What? "

" Make it work better, " she said.

" I don't know, " said Newt. " I'm not sure I can. " He laid a hand on top of the nearest cabinet.

There was the noise of something he hadn't realized he'd been hearing suddenly stopping, and the descending whine of a distant generator. The lights on the panels flickered, and most of them went out.

All over the world, people who had been wrestling with switches found that they switched. Circuit breakers opened. Computers stopped planning World War III and went back to idly scanning the stratosphere. In bunkers under Novya Zemla men found that the fuses they were frantically trying to pull out came away in their hands at last; in bunkers under Wyoming and Nebraska, men in fatigues stopped screaming and waving guns at one another, and would have had a beer if alcohol had been allowed in missile bases. It wasn't, but they had one anyway.

The lights came on. Civilization stopped its slide into chaos, and started writing letters to the newspapers about how people got overexcited about the least little thing these days.

In Tadfield, the machines ceased radiating menace. Something that had been in them was gone, quite apart from the electricity.

" Gosh, " said Newt.

" There you are, " said Anathema. " You fixed it good. You can trust old Agnes, take it from me. Now let's get out of here. "

– – -

" He didn't want to do it! " said Aziraphale. " Haven't I always told you, Crowley? If you take the trouble to look, deep down inside anyone, you'll find that at bottom they're really quite& #8209; "

" It's not over, " said Crowley flatly.

Adam turned and appeared to notice them for the first time. Crowley was not used to people identifying him so readily, but Adam stared at him as though Crowley's entire life history was pasted inside the back of his skull and he, Adam, was reading it. For an instant he knew real terror. He'd always thought the sort he'd felt before was the genuine article, but that was mere abject fear beside this new sensation. Those Below could make you cease to exist by, well, hurting you in unbearable amounts, but this boy could not only make you cease to exist merely by thinking about it, but probably could arrange matters so that you never had existed at all.

Adam's gaze swept to Aziraphale.

" 'Scuse me, why're you two people? " said Adam.

" Well, " said Aziraphale, " it's a long& #8209; "

" It's not right, being two people, " said Adam. " I reckon you'd better go back to being two sep'rate people. "

There were no showy special effects. There was just Aziraphale, sitting next to Madame Tracy.

" Ooh, that felt tingly, " she said. She looked Aziraphale up and down. " Oh, " she said, in a slightly disappointed voice. " Somehow, I thought you'd be younger. "

Shadwell glowered jealously at the angel and thumbed the Thundergun's hammer in a pointed sort of way.

Aziraphale looked down at his new body which was, unfortunately, very much like his old body, although the overcoat was cleaner.

" Well, that's over, " he said.

" No, " said Crowley. " No. It isn't, you see. Not at all. "

Now there were clouds overhead, curling like a pot of tagliatelli on full boil.

" You see, " said Crowley, his voice leaden with fatalistic gloom, " it doesn't really work that simply. You think wars get started because some old duke gets shot, or someone cuts off someone's ear, or someone's sited their missiles in the wrong place. It's not like that. That's just, well, just reasons, which haven't got anything to do with it. What really causes wars is two sides that can't stand the sight of one another and the pressure builds up and up and then anything will cause it. Anything at all. What's your name. . . er. . . boy? "

" That's Adam Young, " said Anathema, as she strode up with Newt trailing after her.

" That's right. Adam Young, " said Adam.

" Good effort. You've saved the world. Have a half& #8209; holiday, " said Crowley. " But it won't really make any difference. "

" I think you're right, " said Aziraphale. " I'm sure my people want Armageddon. It's very sad. "

" Would anyone mind telling us what's going on? " said Anathema sternly, folding her arms.

Aziraphale shrugged. " It's a very long story, " he began.

Anathema stuck out her chin. " Go on, then, " she said.

" Well. In the Beginning& #8209; "

The lightning flashed, struck the ground a few meters from Adam, and stayed there, a sizzling column that broadened at the base, as though the wild electricity was filling an invisible mold. The humans pressed back against the jeep.

The lightning vanished, and a young man made out of golden fire stood there.

" Oh dear, " said Aziraphale. " It's him. "

" Him who? " said Crowley.

" The Voice of God, " said the angel. " The Metatron. "

The Them stared.

Then Pepper said, " No, it isn't. The Metatron's made of plastic and it's got laser cannon and it can turn into a helicopter. "

" That's the Cosmic Megatron, " said Wensleydale weakly. " I had one, but the head fell off. I think this one is different. "

The beautiful blank gaze fell on Adam Young, and then turned sharply to look at the concrete beside it, which was boiling.

A figure rose from the churning ground in the manner of the demon king in a pantomime, but if this one was ever in a pantomime, it was one where no one walked out alive and they had to get a priest to burn the place down afterwards. It was not greatly different to the other figure, except that its flames were blood& #8209; red.

" Er, " said Crowley, trying to shrink into his seat. " Hi. . . er. "

The red thing gave him the briefest of glances, as though marking him for future consumption, and then stared at Adam. When it spoke, its voice was like a million flies taking off in a hurry.

It buzzed a word that felt, to those humans who heard it, like a file dragged down the spine.

It was talking to Adam, who said, " Huh? No. I said already. My name's Adam Young. " He looked the figure up and down. " What's yours? "

" Beelzebub, " Crowley supplied. " He's the Lord of& #8209; "

" Thank you, Crowzley, " said Beelzebub. " Later we muzzed have a seriouzz talk. I am sure thou hazzt muzzch to tell me. "

" Er, " said Crowley, " well, you see, what happened was& #8209; "

" Silenzz! "

" Right. Right, " said Crowley hurriedly.

" Now then, Adam Young, " said the Metatron, " while we can of course appreciate your assistance at this point, we must add that Armageddon should take place now. There may be some temporary inconvenience, but that should hardly stand in the way of the ultimate good. "

" Ah, " whispered Crowley to Aziraphale, " what he means is, we have to destroy the world in order to save it. "

" Azz to what it standz in the way of, that hazz yet to be decided, " buzzed Beelzebub. " But it muzzt be decided now, boy. That izz thy deztiny. It is written. "

Adam took a deep breath. The human watchers held theirs. Crowley and Aziraphale had forgotten to breathe some time ago.

" I just don't see why everyone and everything has to be burned up and everything, " Adam said. " Millions of fish an' whales an' trees an', an' sheep and stuff. An' not even for anything important. Jus' to see who's got the best gang. It's like us an' the Johnsonites. But even if you win, you can't really beat the other side, because you don't really want to. I mean, not for good. You'll just start all over again. You'll just keep on sending people like these two, " he pointed to Crowley and Aziraphale, " to mess people around. It's hard enough bein' people as it is, without other people coming and messin' you around. "

Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

" Johnsonites? " he whispered.

The angel shrugged. " Early breakaway sect, I think, " he said. " Sort of Gnostics. Like the Ophites. " His forehead wrinkled. " Or were they the Sethites? No, I'm thinking of the Collyridians. Oh dear. I'm sorry, there were hundreds of them, it's so hard to keep track. "

" People bein' messed around, " murmured Crowley.

" It doesn't matter! " snapped the Metatron. " The whole point of the creation of the Earth and Good and Evil& #8209; "

" I don't see what's so triflic about creating people as people and then gettin' upset 'cos they act like people, " said Adam severely. " Anyway, if you stopped tellin' people it's all sorted out after they're dead, they might try sorting it all out while they're alive. If I was in charge, I'd try makin' people live a lot longer, like ole Methuselah. It'd be a lot more interestin' and they might start thinkin' about the sort of things they're doing to all the enviroment and ecology, because they'll still be around in a hundred years' time. "

" Ah, " said Beelzebub, and he actually began to smile. " You wizzsh to rule the world. That'z more like thy Fath& #8209; "

" I thought about all that an' I don't want to, " said Adam, half turning and nodding encouragingly at the Them. " I mean, there's some stuff could do with alt'rin', but then I expect peopled keep comin' up to me and gettin' me to sort out everythin' the whole time and get rid of all the rubbish and make more trees for 'em, and where's the good in all that? It's like havin' to tidy up people's bedrooms for them. "

" You never tidy up even your bedroom, " said Pepper, behind him.

" I never said anythin' about my bedroom, " said Adam, referring to a room whose carpet had been lost to view for several years. " It's general bedrooms I mean. I dint mean my personal bedroom. It's an analoggy. That's jus' what I'm sayin'. "

Beelzebub and the Metatron looked at one another.

" Anyway, " said Adam, " it's bad enough having to think of things for Pepper and Wensley and Brian to do all the time so they don't get bored, so I don't want any more world than I've got. Thank you all the same. "

The Metatron's face began to take on the look familiar to all those subjected to Adam's idiosyncratic line of reasoning.

" You can't refuse to be who you are, " it said eventually. " Listen. Your birth and destiny are part of the Great Plan. Things have to happen like this. All the choices have been made. "

" Rebellion izz a fine thing, " said Beelzebub, " but some thingz are beyond rebellion. You muzzt understand! "

" I'm not rebelling against anything, " said Adam in a reasonable tone of voice. " I'm pointin' out things. Seems to me you can't blame people for pointin' out things. Seems to me it'd be a lot better not to start fightin' and jus' see what people do. If you stop messin' them about they might start thinkin' properly an' they might stop messin' the world around. I'm not sayin' they would, " he added conscientiously, " but they might. "

" This makes no sense, " said the Metatron. " You can't run counter to the Great Plan. You must think. It's in your genes. Think. "

Adam hesitated.

The dark undercurrent was always ready to flow back, its reedy whisper saying yes, that was it, that was what it was all about, you have to follow the Plan because you were part of it& #8209;

It had been a long day. He was tired. Saving the world took it out of an eleven& #8209; year& #8209; old body.