MEMORY TIME
East couldn't see anything. That was only a little bit worrying, but he had other things to worry about. Er. Didn't he? What was it he was worrying about, anyway, because he had a feeling he was doing a lot of that worrying right about now, here, in the dark.
Hm. Yes, quite a bit of worrying, over something he didn't remember and everything smelled like books and dust which was entirely distracting from the worrying.
Someone knocked at the door he couldn't see and he ignored it. He heard himself pushing things aside and then the striking of a match, and the smell of candles and a moment later, incense, filled his nose. He was still worried. Someone- himself, he was speaking, oh- said something complicated and detailed that felt like it deserved a capital letter when one spoke of it. East had no idea what he was saying.
Nothing happened.
He heard himself say it again.
There was a shrill, barely audible noise before a voice, very professional and intelligent and intimidating, spoke to him.
"Well?" it said.
"It's me, Aziraphale," East heard himself answer. Was that supposed to be his name, then? Kind of convoluted with a lot of letters, wasn't it, but it had a kind of ring to it- and the other voice was speaking again.
"We know." It sounded a bit bored with him.
"I've got great news! I've located the Antichrist!" What- "I can give you his address and everything!"
There was silence. The scent of incense swirled vaguely in the background.
"Well?" said the other voice. East- Aziraphale- went on, desperately.
"But, d'you see, you can ki--can stop it all happening!" He didn't want to think about what he'd nearly suggested. That was terrible, what was wrong with him- "In the nick of time! You've only got a few hours! You can stop it all and there needn't be the war and everyone will be saved!"
"Yes?"
"Yes, he's in a place called Lower Tadfield, and the address--"
"Well done," interrupted the voice, dull and uninterested, and he nearly cringed with embarrassment as he heard himself go on, happily in the way someone is happy when everything is going wrong and they can't stop it.
"There doesn't have to be any of that business with one third of the seas turning to blood or anything."
"Why not?" The strange voice wasn't amused. He felt a bit like he would want to cry pretty soon, which was just terrible. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, as a bonus.
"Well, you can simply make sure that--"
"We will win, Aziraphale."
"Yes, but--"
"The forces of darkness must be beaten. You seem to be under a misapprehension. The point is not to avoid the war, it is to win it. We have been waiting a long time, Aziraphale."
Yes. Yes, now he rather wanted to sob weakly. He wondered if he should say something ridiculous but decided against it. It was ridiculous, after all, and would get him nowhere.
"I see," he said instead, his voice strained from the calm he was trying to maintain. Somewhere behind him there was a scraping noise. He ignored it. Suddenly the scents of incense and candles were very stifling and he was excruciatingly uncomfortable.
"This is not to say you have not performed well. You will receive a commendation. Well done." East- Aziraphale, blast it- didn't like this voice much.
"Thank you." The subtle anger even showed in his voice, but he doubted the voice would notice. It would be so like it, wouldn't it- whatever, er, that meant. "I'd forgotten about ineffability, obviously."
"We thought you had." Oh he would like very much to be able to see whoever owned this voice because he would give them such a glare--
"May I ask to whom I have been speaking?"
"We are the Metatron." That meant almost nothing to him. Drat.
"Oh, yes. Of course. Oh. Well. Thank you very much. Thank you."
"One more thing. You will of course be joining us, won't you?"
"Well, er, of course it has been simply ages since I've held a flaming sword--" What--
"Yes, we recall. You will have a lot of opportunity to relearn." That wasn't at all foreboding. Really. This just got more and more convoluted, didn't it, and oh dear he was speaking again.
"Ah. Hm. What sort of initiating event will precipitate the war?" War. Did it have to be a war, he'd been afraid of that, even after that previous bit about winning and defeating evil.
He could do without a war. Violence wasn't something he approved of, really, and why even bother with it? It only caused more problems, like the destruction of perfectly innocent- whatever it was he was standing in that he couldn't see.
Books and dust, under the incense. Bookshop. Oh, right. That. Yes, it would be very unfortunate if his- was it his? It would make sense, really- was destroyed. He rather liked it. He rather liked a lot of things about the place, incidentally.
"We thought a multination nuclear exchange would be a nice start," said the voice, cutting into his thoughts.
"Oh. Yes. Very imaginative." Oh dear oh dear oh dear--
"Good. We will expect you directly, then."
"Ah. Well. I'll just clear up a few business matters, shall I?"
"There hardly seems to be any necessity." Flippant. That was really what he needed right now. Really.
"I really feel that probity, not to say morality, demands that as a reputable businessman, I should--" So then, it was his shop. All right. That was nice (even if it had burned down hadn't it he'd been told of that that was so unpleasant he was going to miss it even if he didn't already because he'd only just remembered it but all those books--).
"Yes, yes. Point taken. We shall await you, then." It sounded annoyed with him. He didn't think he could bring himself to care more than polite apology level, because it was his nature. It was annoyed all the same. He was terrified.
There was a silence. He wondered if the person owning the voice- Metatron, was it?- had left. He couldn't see.
"Hallo? Anyone still there?" he heard himself ask. Another silence, then the sound of flipping pages and- buttons? being pressed. Something started to ring. It rang a few more times before he heard another voice.
Fallen? That was Fallen, wasn't it. He sounded very relaxed, which made East kind of frantic.
"Hi," Fallen's voice said. "This is Anthony Crowley. Uh. I--"
"Crowley!" he heard himself interrupt, sounding like he was trying to sound urgent and also not draw any attention to himself at the same time. It was interesting, at least. "Listen! I haven't got much time! The--"
"--probably not in right now, or asleep, and busy, or something, but--" What the blazes was Fallen talking about at a time like this? Honestly.
"Shutup! Listen! It was in Tadfield! It's all in that book! You've got to stop--"
"--after the tone and I'll get right back to you. Chow."
"I want to talk to you now--"
BeeeEEEEeeeeeEEEEeee
What. Was that. What was he doing, this was serious! Er. Wasn't it? Yes, clearly it was because that Metatron thing was terribly unhelpful and had only made him even more worried, and now Fallen (or Anthony or Crowley or someone) was not being helpful either. Really.
"Stop making noises! It's in Tadfield!" In that vein, what exactly was a Tadfield? Probably a field of some kind, which would just augment the ridiculousness of this situation. Sigh. "That was what I was sensing! You must go there and-- Bugger!"
Hm. Yes, quite a bit of worrying, over something he didn't remember and everything smelled like books and dust which was entirely distracting from the worrying.
Someone knocked at the door he couldn't see and he ignored it. He heard himself pushing things aside and then the striking of a match, and the smell of candles and a moment later, incense, filled his nose. He was still worried. Someone- himself, he was speaking, oh- said something complicated and detailed that felt like it deserved a capital letter when one spoke of it. East had no idea what he was saying.
Nothing happened.
He heard himself say it again.
There was a shrill, barely audible noise before a voice, very professional and intelligent and intimidating, spoke to him.
"Well?" it said.
"It's me, Aziraphale," East heard himself answer. Was that supposed to be his name, then? Kind of convoluted with a lot of letters, wasn't it, but it had a kind of ring to it- and the other voice was speaking again.
"We know." It sounded a bit bored with him.
"I've got great news! I've located the Antichrist!" What- "I can give you his address and everything!"
There was silence. The scent of incense swirled vaguely in the background.
"Well?" said the other voice. East- Aziraphale- went on, desperately.
"But, d'you see, you can ki--can stop it all happening!" He didn't want to think about what he'd nearly suggested. That was terrible, what was wrong with him- "In the nick of time! You've only got a few hours! You can stop it all and there needn't be the war and everyone will be saved!"
"Yes?"
"Yes, he's in a place called Lower Tadfield, and the address--"
"Well done," interrupted the voice, dull and uninterested, and he nearly cringed with embarrassment as he heard himself go on, happily in the way someone is happy when everything is going wrong and they can't stop it.
"There doesn't have to be any of that business with one third of the seas turning to blood or anything."
"Why not?" The strange voice wasn't amused. He felt a bit like he would want to cry pretty soon, which was just terrible. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, as a bonus.
"Well, you can simply make sure that--"
"We will win, Aziraphale."
"Yes, but--"
"The forces of darkness must be beaten. You seem to be under a misapprehension. The point is not to avoid the war, it is to win it. We have been waiting a long time, Aziraphale."
Yes. Yes, now he rather wanted to sob weakly. He wondered if he should say something ridiculous but decided against it. It was ridiculous, after all, and would get him nowhere.
"I see," he said instead, his voice strained from the calm he was trying to maintain. Somewhere behind him there was a scraping noise. He ignored it. Suddenly the scents of incense and candles were very stifling and he was excruciatingly uncomfortable.
"This is not to say you have not performed well. You will receive a commendation. Well done." East- Aziraphale, blast it- didn't like this voice much.
"Thank you." The subtle anger even showed in his voice, but he doubted the voice would notice. It would be so like it, wouldn't it- whatever, er, that meant. "I'd forgotten about ineffability, obviously."
"We thought you had." Oh he would like very much to be able to see whoever owned this voice because he would give them such a glare--
"May I ask to whom I have been speaking?"
"We are the Metatron." That meant almost nothing to him. Drat.
"Oh, yes. Of course. Oh. Well. Thank you very much. Thank you."
"One more thing. You will of course be joining us, won't you?"
"Well, er, of course it has been simply ages since I've held a flaming sword--" What--
"Yes, we recall. You will have a lot of opportunity to relearn." That wasn't at all foreboding. Really. This just got more and more convoluted, didn't it, and oh dear he was speaking again.
"Ah. Hm. What sort of initiating event will precipitate the war?" War. Did it have to be a war, he'd been afraid of that, even after that previous bit about winning and defeating evil.
He could do without a war. Violence wasn't something he approved of, really, and why even bother with it? It only caused more problems, like the destruction of perfectly innocent- whatever it was he was standing in that he couldn't see.
Books and dust, under the incense. Bookshop. Oh, right. That. Yes, it would be very unfortunate if his- was it his? It would make sense, really- was destroyed. He rather liked it. He rather liked a lot of things about the place, incidentally.
"We thought a multination nuclear exchange would be a nice start," said the voice, cutting into his thoughts.
"Oh. Yes. Very imaginative." Oh dear oh dear oh dear--
"Good. We will expect you directly, then."
"Ah. Well. I'll just clear up a few business matters, shall I?"
"There hardly seems to be any necessity." Flippant. That was really what he needed right now. Really.
"I really feel that probity, not to say morality, demands that as a reputable businessman, I should--" So then, it was his shop. All right. That was nice (even if it had burned down hadn't it he'd been told of that that was so unpleasant he was going to miss it even if he didn't already because he'd only just remembered it but all those books--).
"Yes, yes. Point taken. We shall await you, then." It sounded annoyed with him. He didn't think he could bring himself to care more than polite apology level, because it was his nature. It was annoyed all the same. He was terrified.
There was a silence. He wondered if the person owning the voice- Metatron, was it?- had left. He couldn't see.
"Hallo? Anyone still there?" he heard himself ask. Another silence, then the sound of flipping pages and- buttons? being pressed. Something started to ring. It rang a few more times before he heard another voice.
Fallen? That was Fallen, wasn't it. He sounded very relaxed, which made East kind of frantic.
"Hi," Fallen's voice said. "This is Anthony Crowley. Uh. I--"
"Crowley!" he heard himself interrupt, sounding like he was trying to sound urgent and also not draw any attention to himself at the same time. It was interesting, at least. "Listen! I haven't got much time! The--"
"--probably not in right now, or asleep, and busy, or something, but--" What the blazes was Fallen talking about at a time like this? Honestly.
"Shutup! Listen! It was in Tadfield! It's all in that book! You've got to stop--"
"--after the tone and I'll get right back to you. Chow."
"I want to talk to you now--"
BeeeEEEEeeeeeEEEEeee
What. Was that. What was he doing, this was serious! Er. Wasn't it? Yes, clearly it was because that Metatron thing was terribly unhelpful and had only made him even more worried, and now Fallen (or Anthony or Crowley or someone) was not being helpful either. Really.
"Stop making noises! It's in Tadfield!" In that vein, what exactly was a Tadfield? Probably a field of some kind, which would just augment the ridiculousness of this situation. Sigh. "That was what I was sensing! You must go there and-- Bugger!"