Perfection
The- space? For it certainly couldn’t be called a room, and there was no “outside” to speak of, so what other word for it was there?- was the perfect temperature. Everything was clean enough that no one would dare run white-gloved fingers along a surface, for fear of leaving the slightest trace of fluff. People didn’t look gleeful- no raucous bursts of laughter that could shatter the perfect silence, no comments or conversation- but instead looked perfectly satisfied. Soft music played from everywhere at once, a perfect complement to the perfect setting.
There was a sigh.
“Is anything wrong?” an angel asked its companion, with a modicum of concern in its voice.
“I sometimes wonder if there is anything other than this,” the other answered.
The first looked mildly surprised, then mildly appalled. “Why would you wish for anything other? Here we have perfection! What other could there possibly be that could in any way improve upon it?”
“Right, right. Perfection. Yeah.” The angel looked mildly abashed. “I just… I sometimes wonder whether it might be worth not having perfection, for a little while.” At its companion’s expression, it backtracked a little, putting up its hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for perfection. I mean it’s perfect, obviously. Just… there’s nothing to try for, know what I mean? It’s a bit… samey.”
“Heaven? Samey?!”
“Oh, I don’t know. It just might be nice to have a bit of a change, once in a while.”
“I don’t wish to hear this,” the first said stiffly. “Perfection is perfection. Anything that is not perfection is an affront to the Creator, and must be destroyed immediately! How could you suggest that anything existing outside the heavens could be remotely worth considering for even a moment?! Everything must be perfect! It must!”
Crowley backed off a couple of paces. The other angel’s fervour scared him, and he couldn’t help thinking there was something imperfect about that. He wouldn’t have said it, though. Not for anything.
“Alright, Islington. Sorry. Won’t bring it up again.” He backed away slowly, and found somewhere else in the endless perfection to hang around in future.
There was a sigh.
“Is anything wrong?” an angel asked its companion, with a modicum of concern in its voice.
“I sometimes wonder if there is anything other than this,” the other answered.
The first looked mildly surprised, then mildly appalled. “Why would you wish for anything other? Here we have perfection! What other could there possibly be that could in any way improve upon it?”
“Right, right. Perfection. Yeah.” The angel looked mildly abashed. “I just… I sometimes wonder whether it might be worth not having perfection, for a little while.” At its companion’s expression, it backtracked a little, putting up its hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for perfection. I mean it’s perfect, obviously. Just… there’s nothing to try for, know what I mean? It’s a bit… samey.”
“Heaven? Samey?!”
“Oh, I don’t know. It just might be nice to have a bit of a change, once in a while.”
“I don’t wish to hear this,” the first said stiffly. “Perfection is perfection. Anything that is not perfection is an affront to the Creator, and must be destroyed immediately! How could you suggest that anything existing outside the heavens could be remotely worth considering for even a moment?! Everything must be perfect! It must!”
Crowley backed off a couple of paces. The other angel’s fervour scared him, and he couldn’t help thinking there was something imperfect about that. He wouldn’t have said it, though. Not for anything.
“Alright, Islington. Sorry. Won’t bring it up again.” He backed away slowly, and found somewhere else in the endless perfection to hang around in future.