The Provider
“It’s time.”
He jerked forward from his armchair, looked around, saw nothing and thought, “what!?”
Did he hear something? Was it something from the film on the television?
Puzzled, he continued to watch the film.
A few seconds later, “It’s time and I’m here. Are you ready?”
He jerked forward from his chair again, looked around, at least three times in each direction, even up at the ceiling as he got up off the chair. He went out to the hallway; did not see anything unusual, into the kitchen; nothing. Into the dining room; nothing! He went upstairs – faster than he normally would; checked the bathroom and went into each of the three bedrooms; still nothing.
He came back down and back into the lounge. The only sound was coming from the TV. But this time he was sure the voice was not from the TV. He thought it stupid but said anyway: “What the! Who is this? Is there somebody here?”
“Yes, but you can’t see me,” answered the croaky voice. “Take your spectacles off”
This is crazy, he thought; was he going crazy? But he removed his spectacles and saw an average built man, probably around 35 years old, sharply dressed as if he’d just left some outfitters from Saville Row.
“See me now? Of course, you do” replied the man; the voice less croaky now.
He just stood, in shock, confused; still thinking if he was going crazy or not.
“You don’t mind if I sit down, do you” as he occupied his armchair, legs crossed, burgundy leather shoes so shiny that they looked like they were made from plastic glass. “You like the shoes,” he said in a tone, exuding confidence, with a suave yet impish look and smile; a bit like that character from that film … what was his name? he thought: Van Dorn or Van Horn? In that film about three women and the Van Horn or Dorn devil.
“Am I going mad, or are you really something?” he said, standing in front of the Dorn or Horn lookalike and wondering who was this person? How was he here?
The smile returned and the words: “You could or could not be mad; it’s all relative. In your world I’m not real, but I am really something.”
“God! I must be crazy, talking to myself thinking I’m talking to an actor lookalike from 30 years ago”
“Tut tut tut. Let’s not use His name in such a tone. Take a seat, and that’s not a request, and tell me, are you ready?” he said, twirling a silver bracelet around his index finger.
“Ready for what?” he said, sitting down on the sofa, thinking ‘let’s play this scene, dream, or whatever it was that he was going through.”
“Ready for what?” you say. For the last 30 years you’ve been moaning, whinging, wishing, often begging and now that I’m here, you say “ready for what?”
“What else can I say? I’m sitting here talking to who knows what. I don’t know if you are real, if I’m hallucinating, am I going crazy. Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? Do you have a name?”
“You can call me the Provider.”
“The Provider!?”
“Yes, Provider 97-219 to be precise, but, hey, call me P97 for short,” he said with the wide smile, as he took a sip of something from a glass that appeared from nowhere. “Now that is how a cognac should be. You should try some, I picked up a bottle up on my way here. Go on, take a sip”
A bottle of cognac and glass suddenly appeared on the coffee table. ‘What the fuck!’ he thought.
“Come on, Jake, drink; it’ll help calm your nerves and as you drink, so you’ll believe”
He did not think the bottle or glass were real, but reached out anyway. He felt the bottle. He felt the glass. He poured. He took a sip. It was real. Real cognac.
“So, what do you think? Is that not the best cognac you’ve ever had?” said P97, as he took out a cigar and lit it, inhaled and exhaled a perfect smoke circle. “You don’t mind if I smoke, well, of course you don’t, as you smoke”
Jake leaned forward, “how do you know that? How do you know my name? And who are you? Where you from? Why are you here?”
The wide smile seemed as if it were etched on his face, “so many questions, Jake, but will you be able to handle the answers, well” P97 said, pausing for another cigar puff. “Ahhh, the people of Cuba really do know their cigars. You see, Jake, I know all about you. And, given your world and talking in the language of your world, then you should understand who I am and where I’m from if I just say that: I’m an angel. Can you handle that? Or would you prefer to think of me as a ghost?”
Jake emptied his glass of cognac, “I don’t know what to think” he replied as he took the bottle and poured a large one.
“Easy, easy, Jake; you need to be alert, otherwise you’ll miss the opportunity” said P97
Just as Jake was about to put the glass to his mouth, it disappeared. Jake jerked backwards, looked at his hand. No glass. The bottle that was on the table was no more.
“You really should listen, Jake,” said P97
Jake jumped up, lunged at P97 trying to grab his neck but his hands just felt the chair. He moved his hands wildly as if to grab any part of P97, until P97, now without the smile, said in a firm tone: “Sit, Jake.”
Jake stood by the chair for a couple of seconds, looking at what he could not feel and then moved back onto the sofa. “Totally mad” he mumbled, “I’m going fucking mad.”
“Not quite, Jake,” said P97, the smile now back, he sipped some cognac and said, “exceptional Remy Martin this, don’t you think, Jake?” snuggling deeper into the armchair.
Jake said nothing, looked up at the ceiling, around the room, a room he’d known for over 20 years, twice around the room until his look settled on P97, who or whatever he or it was. “I need a cigarette, or are you going to deny me that also and make the packet disappear?” as he took out a packet of St Moritz, put a cigarette between his lips, lit it, while all the time looking directly at P97.
He inhaled, long and deep. “So, who or what are you?”
The smile left P97’s face as he leaned forward and said, “As I said, Jake, consider me as your angel, your genie in the lamp, if you want”
Jake smoked on his cigarette, paused, “ok, let’s play your game. I fantasy each day of my life, I will just take this as another daydream but with a twist; I will imagine I’m talking to an angel”
“Whatever you say, Jake, but tell me this: Do you remember the taste of the Remy Martin? Were you daydreaming, imagining when you first saw and felt the bottle? And when you did not see the bottle, had you woken up from your dreaming? But, hey, you play it as you want, you want to fantasise, daydream … go ahead but I need to complete the task.”
“What task?”
“Jake, for somebody with above average intelligence, you’re acting very ignorant. But, ok, I’ll make it clear: Your wish. My task is to grant you your wish”
“Really? Grant me my wish?”
“Yes,” replied P97, sitting back in the chair, adding cognac to his snifter by moving his finger up the side. “Of which there have been many in your so-called failed life as you’d put it: Fly like Superman, expert in every language of the world, win 200 consecutive professional golf tournaments with a stroke average of 49; 200 consecutive tennis tournaments, with your opponents not even winning a point – let alone a game, twenty time winner of the Monaco Grand Prix where the other racers have been lapped at least ten times by you, run the 100 metres in five seconds and the 1500 metres in under 90 seconds, lift a tonne with one hand, a billion to the power of one billion pounds in various bank accounts, British Sterling pounds that is. Oh, and that’s not the US billion but the old British billion, the one with the 12 zeros. Blah, blah, blah, to say those dreams or wishes are outrageous would be an understatement. But, does what I say ring any bells?”
“Now I am talking to myself!” exclaimed Jake jerking his head up and throwing his hands up in the air. “How can you possibly know that!?”
“We watch, Jake. We listen. We see and we hear,” said P97 in a cold tone, twirling the cigar between his fingers.
Jake paused and thought ‘I started so may as well carry on with this shit game’. “So, you will grant me my wish and, to be clear, one wish or more?”
“Only one.”
“Any wish?” continued Jake
“Any within reason, Jake.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Without repeating all the terms and conditions, Jake, let’s just say each of your wishes pass the test, except you can’t have the one billion to the power of one billion British pounds; my limit is one hundred billion, in US dollars – that’s the billion with the nine zeros”
“Your limit? What do you mean?
“Come on Jake, you know what I mean by limit – we all have limits. Remember when you were signing off expense budgets? You had a limit of twenty thousand”
“How do you know that!? exclaimed Jake
P97 moved his head side to side four times before saying “tut tut tut, Jake, you can’t be this slow, I told you, we have been watching you”
Yet again, Jake thought “continue this game” and said “so, some other angel could give me more?”
“Or less, Jake, depends on their rank”
“Rank? Angels have ranks? So, what is your rank?”
“Well, Jake, you won’t understand our classification but let me put it in a way that you will understand: Consider me as the department head of the Company, where the Company is the Universe. Above me is the General Manager, then the Directors and Managing Directors and, at the very top, the Chief Executive and President and Chairman combined, that is, The Boss.”
“You mean, God?”
“Got it in one, Jake. Say do you have anything to eat?”
“Angels eat? Can’t you magic up something for yourself,” asked Jake, lighting another cigarette
“Of course, just thought it’d be nice to experience some of your hospitality, so what do you say?” asked P97, with wide smile back.
“I made some stew yesterday. Will that do?”
“That’ll be fine, even more so with a couple of bread rolls, if you have them?”
“You mean you don’t know if I have bread rolls or not?”
P97 let out a short sharp laugh, ha! and through his wide smile said: “You are catching on, Jake.” And then he got up and said, “why don’t I move to the dining table while you get the food, and er, don’t worry about the wine, I will get that.”
“I have wine,” said Jake
“That’s ok, let me treat you to something finer, Jake, something that is somewhat out of your budget” said P97 as a matter of fact rather than in smugness.
Jake walked to the kitchen, fingers pressing on his forehead, thinking and then saying to himself, “Jesus! I’m now going to get some food for something I’m imagining, this is some dream, isn’t it?”
Jake opened the refrigerator. A well-stocked refrigerator. Jake hated to run short, especially of the basics, which to him were: Milk, butter, cheese, ham, eggs, tomatoes, cucumber, bread, pure orange juice, beer and coca-cola. The cola was not any cola but had to be Coca-Cola, in cans only. He did not mind if the beer was cans or bottles, but they had to be Cobra, Singha or Peroni. A refrigerator without these essentials was not a refrigerator. Just as a wine cabinet was not wine cabinet without at least two bottles of red wine, a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of gin and cans, only cans, of Indian tonic. He was not so particular about the wine or the whiskey and tended to buy the cheapest, but decent, one he could find. Bu the wine had to be red, very rarely did he have white: Merlots or Riojas were what he usually bought. Consuming a bottle, sometimes a bottle and half each week. He rarely spent more than five or six pounds on a bottle – even when he was expecting guests, simply because he could not tell the difference between a bottle costing six pounds or one costing two or three times that amount. He’d had no complaints over the years, if he had then he’d have bought the more expensive varieties for his guests. With the whiskey it was a little different. His intake was little. A litre bottle would last him three months if not more and he’d buy whichever variety was on sale at the supermarket. But when guests, especially his close friends, were expected then it had to be bottles of Tullamore Drew, Chivas Regal and Bulleit. The gin was always Bombay Sapphire.
He took out a bowl containing stew. Will he eat all of this or should I put some in a smaller bowl, he thought followed by chastising himself with ‘fucking idiot’! And then shouted: “Do you like your food microwaved or heated conventionally?”
The Angel mischievously shouted back, “conventionally to you may be unconventional to me, ha-ha; don’t worry about heat, I’ll take care of it, just bring the bowl over”
“Here we go,” Jake thought, “a movement of the hand and poof! The stew will be bubbling hot, I bet.”
And that’s what happened, as soon as he put the bowl in front of the Angel.
“Bread, Jake, you forgot the bread, but, don’t worry, relax, sit down.” And, before he had moved, a plate with two warm bread rolls appeared. As did a bottle of wine, uncorked.
“Here, try this, a 1955 Sangiovese” said the Angel handing a glass of the wine to Jake.
Jake took a sip, looked at the bottle, the label meant nothing to him
“Well?” said the Angel
“It’s OK, not quite my type of wine,” said Jake
“Bet if I’d said it’s one of the most expensive wines ever then you’d say you love it.”
“Not necessarily. I can be shallow and sycophantic but not that much,” said Jake, taking another sip of the wine.
“Well, perhaps next time I will treat you to your preferred Merlot or Rioja.”
“How is it that you know that!?” exclaimed Jake.
“You keep asking and I keep replying the same thing; we have been watching you,” replied the Angel, sipping his wine.
“I did not see you eat your stew, or the bread, yet the bowl and plate are empty, how?”
“Hospitality checking, Jake, just checking on whether or not you are good host,” smiled the Angel.
“Seeing the future is not my forte, Jake; you were good at the last Christmas dinner, but I don’t know how you will be at the next one,” replied the Angel.
“You watched me at the last Christmas dinner?”
“As I said, Jake, you keep asking and I keep saying, yes, we observed you,” said the Angel, topping his glass, as before, by moving his finger up the glass.
“So how do you it? How do you observe me?”
“How? We watch, we listen. What other ‘how’ do you think there is, Jake?”
“So, what? You sit in some room, look at some monitor? Or perhaps you sit on some cloud and look with your super vision angel eyes and listen with your super hearing?” asked Jake.
“Something like that, Jake.”
“So?What else is there?”
“Let me not bore you with the details, Jake, but it’s not only me that does the observing – from a cloud or a via monitor; we have people on the ground. You do not think each of the nine billion on Earth are people, mortals like you? But anyway, forget the ‘how’, Jake; bottom line is we observe, we know you. Now you’ve been moaning and moaning day after each day, so here I am, to make one of your wishes come true and you’ve still to tell me which it is. Now I do have others to see, Jake, my time with you on this occasion is limited so, tell me?”
I’m going to tell this Angel, ghost my wish and it will come true, in my dreams! Jake thought. Which is, for sure, what is happening now. But, God! It’s a long, clear fucking dream. But then he decided to continue with this game or dream and said: “Okay. But let me check something.”
“Go ahead,” the Angel interrupted, lighting a cigar, sitting back in chair, right leg over the left. Wine glass in right hand, cigar in the other, looking Jake straight into his eyes.
“My wishes you mentioned before are all from many years back, but you mentioned nothing from the last few months”
“Should I have?” Jake said, with a quizzical look.
“Yes, the wish I want, which you did not mention and makes me think that perhaps your ‘observing me’ is not quite what you have been saying it is” said Jake in a mildly sarcastic tone.
“Well, excuse me, but we all drop the ball sometimes, Jake. So, tell me, what is this wish?” replied the Angel in a slightly angry and aggressive tone.
“It may take a while to explain and you say you have others to see, can they wait?”
“Yes!” snapped the Angel, slightly worried that he had missed something. And missing things, ‘dropping the ball’, was not something the Angel liked, to put it mildly. And, given recent events, any failure, actual or potential had to be avoided. He thought he had everything under control, but apparently not from Jake’s words and this made him a little uneasy. The confidence, even some of the smugness and arrogance were fading, yet he tried to maintain his composure. “Now what is this wish that we may not be aware of, Jake?” asked the Angel, in softer tone.
“Before I tell you what it is, would it be good if I told you why I want it?”
“No, Jake, just spit out, I should be able to figure out the ‘why’. And, if for some reason, I don’t, well, you can tell me the ‘why’ after” said the Angel, taking a more passive stance as he could not figure out the sort of thing Jake had in mind and started to regret that his observations of Jake had not been so complete recently, but then he did have other issues to tackle and so he could not devote the resources to Jake, and others that he was responsible for. But his uneasiness grew.
For a moment, Jake did not think that he could be dreaming, talking to an Angel or some ghost in a dream and, in a business-like tone said: “Consumer sovereignty. That is what my wish is about. I want to be the consumer king. The controller, the commander of demand. I dictate which goods and services are purchased. Can you make it happen?”
“I need more, Jake, what to you is a ‘consumer king’, a ‘demand dictator’?”
“It’s very simple,” replied Jake. “Nobody buys anything unless I buy it first or unless I say it is ok to buy”.
The Angle looked at Jake for a split second before saying, in an exaggerated tone, ANYTHING?
Anything but the basics, that is food, shelter, clothes; any of the essentials are excluded.
The Angel was beginning to understand Jake’s desire and motive but pretended that he didn’t and said: And what to you are the BASICS or ESSENTIALS?
“Let me give you some example of what they are not,” replied Jake, leaning forward on his chair and becoming more animated. “Champagne or caviar are not essential drink or food; suits, dresses costing hundreds and thousands of dollars are not essential clothes, villas and mansions are not essential housing or shelter. Is that clearer?”
“Crystal, Jake. You want to bring down the rich, make them dance to your tune as you’ve been looking up to them all your life in envy. A level of envy that some could not fathom, and many would consider abhorrent. And, let’s not forget your selfishness, your greed. You want to be like those that you want to bring down. Have I got that right?”
“Not totally,” replied Jake, thinking that the angel had got most of the things correct but not all and deciding how to reply without him coming across as the envious, greedy person that he was. “Yes,” he continued, “I am envious. I am greedy. But my greed has never been at the expense of those at my level and definitely not at the expense of those worse off than me.”
“Really!?” replied the angel in a cynical tone. “Put me straight, Jake, what did I get wrong? Since when were people greedy, envious of those whose lot was the same or less than their neighbour?”
“As I said, I am envious, I am greedy but perhaps not in the way you may think,” replied Jake hesitantly as he tried to think of the right words to say.
But the angel realised Jake’s predicament and said: “Spit it out, Jake, no need to around the bushes, tell me direct. And, if it gives you more comfort then let me say – you will have some wish. It may not be exactly the wish you crave for but a wish of some form you will have. Look, you’ve had your, shall we say, low moments. But not so bad, you are not an evil human and so you are still planned to enter our Lords’ kingdom. You were allocated to me and I have a duty, which I will do. I do not like or accept failure, Jake; and you will not make me fail. So, a wish of some sort you will have, that I can guarantee now. I would not be here otherwise. So, if it’s not envy and greed, to my way of thinking, then what kind of envy and greed do you have?”
“Let me ask you,” said Jake, “do you think it is right that a handful of people can influence, if not control, the life of almost ten billion people? And do you think it’s okay for governments to talk about global warming, energy saving while they go their G8 or G10 or whatever gatherings in their private planes when a lot of their hot-wind could be exchanged over the telephone or video conferences? And is it good that presidents, prime ministers can’t seem to leave their palaces without the escort of who knows how many expensive bullet proof limousines, each of which costs more to maintain, let alone produce, than most people earn in a lifetime”
“In a word, no,” calmly replied the angel.
“There was a time,” continued Jake, “when many sporting events were held during the day, under natural light. Then, around the same time as the world starts worrying about energy being finite, you start to have a multitude of sports needing floodlights because they want to do their events in the evening or night what before was done only during the day.”
“People need to be entertained, Jake,” said the angel
“I don’t need to be patronised,” snapped Jake.
“I’m not patronising you, Jake, people can’t work all the time, they need entertainment. And you can’t entertain if they are busy with work.”
“They were entertained before but now the greed of some to make more money is far greater, is it not? Is it not a case of organisations, of companies saying: Let’s get people’s money after they’ve finished their work, because we are not going to get much of it during the day and we will let others hark on about saving the world’s energy. Is that not selfish greed? What is a person going to do with two hundred billion dollars? What does he want to buy, his own state, or hundreds of government officials? For what, so he can have three hundred billion dollars? Can they not live well on a billion dollars? Do they need private jets and yachts with gold and diamond encrusted bath taps, can they not eat without having solid silver or gold cutlery? Will they die of shame if they wear a suit or dress that costs one hundred dollars rather than ones which cost ten thousand and more? Is that not selfish greed? The greed is everywhere, even so-called charitable organisations pay six-figure salaries to their heads, for what? Managing various departments? And then go asking for donations of three pounds a month so some child can have clean water. Right! More like money to help pay the Chief Executive’s salary! Heads of corporations getting millions in bonuses just because they may have increased annual sales by 0.1%. Chief Executives who leave a company on the brink of bankruptcy but retire with a pension of a million dollars a year. Stock brokers getting rich on short-selling, crippling companies. In England, they give fucking Knighthoods to heads who’ve left a company bust! And you say I am greedy? Yes, I am selfish. Yes, I am envious. But I’d not spend forty million dollars on a painting and then lock it away where no could see it or fifty thousand dollars on a diamond encrusted watch – if for no other reason than me not doing garish.”
“People have their whims, Jake. We don’t have a problem with people reaping rewards from their hard work, within reason. Demand and supply. It’s simple Economics, Jake,” said the angel, taking another sip and lighting another cigar.
“Demand and supply? Simple Economics? Were the economics not simple when Jesus threw out the money changers and traders?” said Jake sarcastically
“Simply a case of the traders being in the wrong place, Jake, there is a place to pray, honour our Father and another place for commercial activities,” said the angel, smugly, slightly readjusting his position in the armchair.
“And the reason why they are not being thrown out now?” asked Jake
The angel, not so smug now but a little taken aback, said: “What do you mean?”
“The churches, temples, mosques, whatever label you want to give them, the so-called houses of gods, the people that run them … praying, honouring god is a trillion-dollar industry, do you not know that, do you not observe that?” said Jake, getting a little exasperated.
“We see. We know it. And their time will come, along with others on this planet,” softly replied angel, though feeling uneasy that so many of Earth’s people were on paths different to those that were desired. But the changing of that was with those at a far higher level than the angel.
“Yes, except I will not be around to see it. Simple Economics! They are not so simple. If the Economics were pure, I may find it more palatable. But their selfish rules, so-called protectionism, backhanders, bribes, ministers, senators in your pocket. Right, SIMPLE Economics! Seriously? And to you it is not greed? Those few are not being selfish? What are they when they flaunt off their wealth, hide their income to avoid tax – angels?”
“I did not say that, Jake.”
“So, why don’t you grant me my wish and let me cut the rich and powerful few down to size?” exclaimed Jake
“My oh my, you don’t have a chip on your shoulder, Jake, you have a whole tree.”
“You got that right,” said Jake in a resigned tone.
“You should be talking with Lucifer or one of his people but then again, they are not in the business of granting wishing. We, however, wrongly or rightly, are and I’m stuck with you but, I tell you, Jake, what you ask for is too much, nor is it good: Despots, megalomaniacs are not allowed in Heaven.”
“What I ask for, believe it or not, is not despotic,” retorted Jake. “The world is not in balance; it has not been ever since the first generation that followed your Adam and Eve and our / your God does nothing, but just let’s things get worse and worse and hope that the people will be able to sort themselves out. How long will this shit last!? And, should I worry about Heaven? It’s here and now that matters to me! What the fuck do I care where am I when I am dead? Am I going to be conscious after I am dead? Is there such a thing!? Will I be in Hell and go around moaning and yelling “o shit, I wish I had not made that wish! I wish I were in Heaven! WHAT is in heaven?” Jake said, becoming more animated, and then leaning back into his chair, looking up and throwing his arms up and again thinking: What the fuck! I’m talking to some ghost and thinking it is somebody real! Surely, I’m going mad!
“Peace, Jake, eternal peace; that is what is in heaven,” softly but firmly replied the Angel. Thinking that his goal of granting Jake his wish was something he’d not be able to do alone and would need support from his boss. And he did not particularly like to ask help from others as he always took it as a weakness, a failing in his capabilities.
“ETERNAL PEACE!?” Shouted Jake, jumping out of his chair. “What IS that!? How will I feel it? I will be DEAD! My body. My MIND! DEAD! How will I experience this ETERNAL PEACE!?”
“The spirit lives, Jake. It’s your spirit that will be at peace, if you are good enough to come to our Lord’s kingdom but, of course, perdition if you go to the kingdom of Lucifer.”
“Spirit!” raged Jake, “what is this SPIRIT!? What good is any SPIRIT when the rest of me is dead? How do I experience, enjoy this SPIRIT!?”
“Calm down, Jake; you will not understand. So far you have the followed the wrong path, filled your minds with only earthly matters, as many do and so you will not understand the life’s higher level. But,” continued the angel, refilling his glass, “why don’t you stop walking around, sit down and I will try to explain to you.”
“Go ahead,” said Jake, in a resigned tone, as he returned to his chair.
“Your body and mind are temporary, but your spirit is not. It’s been going for thousands of tajuns”
“What!?” Interrupted Jake, “TAJUNS? What are they?”
“Oh, excuse me, a Tajun is one of our measures of time; it’s the equivalent to about five of your Earth years; for us it is a matter of your earth hours; just as a sajun to us is a few minutes whereas to you it is about half the cycle of your Moon, or about two weeks.”
“So, I, or rather my spirit has been around for thousands of years, just floating around somewhere until you put my body around it?”
“Almost, but you spirit has taken other forms; but whatever the form, that which surrounds the spirit is temporary. Your life is like your ‘two week annual holiday’; for the rest of the year you work and then for two or so weeks you have a holiday; for thousands of years your spirit is working and for a few weeks it’s given a form and is on holiday, but it’s not work as you know it. Do you begin to understand?”
“Sort of,” said Jake, quizzically, understanding something but for sure not the whole. He never was much good in the abstract. If he could not see or feel something, then to him it was something to not think about it. “But I’m not into this spiritual stuff,” he continued.
“I know, you and billions of others have the same failing,” replied the angel, “but a sinner’s spirit does not go to heaven; your actions will determine where your spirit goes once it loses your body and mind.”
“You mean, when I am dead?” asked Jake.
“Yes,” replied the angel.
“And it’s been in heaven all the time since it was first created?” asked Jake.
“Noooooooo,” replied the angel; “it’s been in Lucifer’s kingdom a few times.”
“So, do I really care where it goes after my body and mind are no more?”
“That’s for you to answer, Jake,” replied angel.
“O great! Not the ‘god helps those that help themselves’ adage again.”
“You can put it that way, but you know, Jake,” said the angel, leaning forward in his chair, “you really should watch your language.”
“You are right, sorry, some of my thoughts I should keep to myself.”
“Ha-ha, well, you can try, Jake,” laughed the angel, his stern tone having been dispatched.
“Well, call me selfish, envious, call me whatever, but do I get my wish? Are you on my side?”
“It’s not about sides,” Jake, replied the Angel.“As I said, you have been allocated to me and my goal is to make your wish a reality, despite your moments of epicaricacy.”
“My what?”said Jake, with a quizzical look
“Your Schadenfreude moments, the secret pleasure you derive from the misfortune of others,” replied the Angel.
Jake paused and then said, “I’m not sure pleasure totally correct the word.”
“Really, and what is the correct word? You don’t exactly jump for joy upon hearing of somebody’s good fortune,” smirked the Angel.
“Well, not in all cases, though envy is what I feel more often. But, as for feeling good about somebody’s misfortune, I don’t think so. Yes, it is true that I care very little if somebody rich goes bankrupt or they have their art collection stolen and I do want all muggers, rapists, murderers and all taking advantage of the weak to be hung or shot but when I hear or see the poor and weak suffer then I feel grief, pity”
“Yes, we know,” interrupted the Angel,“and if it weren’t for those emotions I’d not be here; though I must say, given your greed, it was touch and go between me being here or not, you have just about enough goodness. But the thing is Jake, your wish beyond my level authority, so I will need to discuss it first with my leader.”
“Really? Your leader? You have a boss?” asked Jake
“Don’t we all, Jake?” smiled the Angel, “now, I must leave, and you should go to sleep. I will return, which, by your time, will be 12 hours from now.”
Jake hesitated and then said, “I probably should not say this but, could you not return later; in about 18 hours from now?”
“No, I’ve another appointment then, I can do 24 hours from now, ok with you?”
“Sure,” replied Jake, in a slightly cynical tone.
The Angel gave out a short laugh, “it’s that cynical, pessimistic Jake tone, faith, Jake, have some faith. But, one more thing before I leave, Jake; you talk of governments, company heads and other people. You talk only of people, but what about the billions of God’s other creatures?”
“What do you mean?” asked Jake, puzzled
“What you call animals, insects, plants; to us they are all spirits. When Noah loaded the ark, it was two each of all of God’s creatures, not just people. And, just so you know, the selection of each pair was not so much based gender, but on their spirits; some similar, some opposing. Have you any trees on your shoulder about them?” asked the Angel, emphasising the word ‘trees’ by elongating it.
“No,” replied Jake, “why should I, I do not live in their world. Their actions, their rules and systems don’t bother me but, we go back to the people, Provider, it’s what the people do to the seas, forests, jungles, and to each other, that bother me.”
“And what about our other spirits?” the Angel asked.
“What other spirits?” asked Jake.
“O, yes, how remiss of me. You’d not know about them, you just go by what you can see or feel. Let’s call them the people and animals in your myths, which some believe exist and others don’t; say the gnomes or leprechauns, or the unicorns and dragons – you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I know” said Jake,“but you’ve answered your own question: If I can’t see or feel something, then it is no bother to me. And if they do not bother me then I do have a need, nor desire, to bother them.”
“And, are you going to help them in anyway?” asked the Angel.
“What?The mythical people and animals?”
“No, Jake, those that you can’t see, those that you can’t feel.”
“I don’t know. Yes, if I can,” replied Jake, not being sure of how to respond.
“You’ve obviously not given it much thought, have you, Jake. Probably because you have little faith. If you can’t see or feel then you do not care, but you would see and feel more with faith, Jake. You do not need eyes to see that which can often matter more,” said the Angel with a wry smile.
“Hey! Come on! People are people, Provider. And this FAITH, whatever it is, builds and destroys. It is not constant; it is not the same. I have rarely considered the level of my faith. Probably because it’s overpowered by my ideals and, yes, by my greed. But I do care. But what power, what influence do I have? I am nothing on this planet. If I was some chief or king of Africa, I’d have some power to be able to do something about the killing of animals for their ivory or whatever, but I’m not. Give me my wish and you will see.”
“Fair response, Jake, and as I said, I will see what I can do, but you are almost asking to play God and I don’t think that is going to happen.”
“But I’m not asking to play God.If you have been observing me and know me then you should know that is not what I want. Yes, I want power; yes, I want to be rich. While there are people flaunting their wealth and revelling in being number one, then I want to be number one, but without being obscene, without being corrupt.What I want to try and do is show a few people that they can be rich but do not need to be obscenely rich, flauntingly arrogant, showing little or no humility and compassion, blah, blah,” replied Jake, getting more frustrated, perhaps because the Angel was right or perhaps because he was not getting the Angel to understand his view.
“We shall continue another time, Jake, see you in 24 hours from now,” said the Angel and promptly disappeared.
Jake went into an internal tirade: “Man! What a waste of god knows how many hours that was! You moron!” Angel, my ass!But what about the real stuff? The cognac, the smell of his cigar. If that guy is some sort of illusionist, then he’s got some fucking powerful magic! This is so weird. Have I been sleep walking? Dreaming as I walked? But the cognac, the bread appearing from nowhere, fucking weird!”
He looked at the wall clock: “Hell! 5am. Only five hours for sleep.”
Joost Malvort