Bael'ding Blocks
“I'm sorry, sir,” the attractive HR woman said – what was her name again - “but we have no work to offer you at this time.”
He frowned. This was his fourth job interview in two weeks, and all had gone sharply downhill as soon as the face-to-face meeting took place. On paper, he knew he stood out – he was qualified, dedicated and had a wealth of experience that other candidates couldn't match. It was his appearance that distracted, his looks that sunk him the moment an interviewer saw him. His name should have been a tip-off, but he supposed it had fallen out of use in most circles.
“You're sure?” He said softly. “I know your industry is booming, and I know for a fact you've hired five other agents this week.” He didn't know that, but he could guess as much with the number of people waiting for their allotted interview time up and down the small corridor outside the room. Real estate wasn't exactly his specialty, but he had done work in just about everything over the years.
“Yes, Mr...Bal...Beel -” she was trying her best, but he knew there was no way she would get it right.
“Baelzebub, ma'am. It's Baelzebub, and thank you for your time.” He rose, and stretched out a large red hand. She took it reluctantly, and held on just so long as was necessary as to not appear rude.
“Of course, and good luck in your search,” she said sweetly.
He didn't bother to reply, and strode quickly out of the office, through the hallway and onto the street. It was tempting to make an issue out of what was clear discrimination, but the truth was it wouldn't do any good – angels and demons were too new to the mortal realm, and too much of an unknown to be covered by any sort of legislation.
Angels had no problem getting work; their good looks and smooth charm got most of them positions before they even opened their perfectly-formed mouths, but in reality many of the minions of the Most High were lazy, slovenly louts. Their master had been losing ground to Bael's for years, and they had found themselves with less and less to do.
It was a worldwide “council of intelligent thinking” that had put the proverbial nail in the coffin of his own gainful employment. Fully three quarters of the Christian world had become atheists almost overnight thanks to a well-worded document from the council, one that pushed many agnostics into the realm of full-blown disbelief.
While the deity above and the one below had enough work to keep them busy, even with the loss of believers, both found they had too many employees and not enough work. Round after round of layoffs were conducted in both heaven and hell, resulting in those with the least seniority getting kicked to the mortal curb. With just under two thousand years of service, Bael was right in the middle of the pack, and it was those of his class that were the last to go.
They'd all been promised generous severance packages, but not one of them had seen one red cent – no surprise, given the issuing body.
An atheist West found itself suddenly swarmed with the minions of those they hadn't believed in, and despite calls to repent and change their ways, most of those who had made the conversion to a world with no higher power decided to stay there, despite the obvious evidence. It was amusing to Bael to suddenly see those who had always believed they had the scientific “right” on their side proven so stunningly wrong, and it was even more amusing to see them defend a faith they could no longer back up with reason. They had become what they hated, what they mocked.
“G...g...glarf-damnit!” Bael cursed out loud as he moved through the streets. He had no particular destination, just a powerful need to get away from the scene of his latest failure. It was frustrating that many of the old conventions still held – despite his dismal from the master's service, he could not utter the name of the opposite, and found himself snarling at every angel that passed him by.
Frustration ran through him as he stalked the city, ramping higher and higher the further he went. He had been a Prime Destroyer under the old regime, second only to the Menacers and their lot. Bael had spoken directly to the master on several occasions, and received a number of degradations for evil deeds done in the service of the cause. Below, he had wanted for nothing, and while his conduct was monitored closely, he was on a career path that took him as low as possible.
Crossing an intersection brought him into the midst of a gang of street hoodlums, who called out slurs about his color and lack of parentage. Anger swelled inside him, but he could do nothing about it – part of the severing from his own realm had been a binding that prevented him from taking any evil action. He could think anything he wanted, but acting on evil impulses was impossible.
His long route finally led him back to his apartment building, where a disheveled-looking man he'd seen several times before stood outside the doors. Stepping in front of him as he approached, the man pulled off his tattered cap to reveal the unshaven, unwashed, and unmistakable face of an angel.
Bael bared his teeth, but the angel spoke quickly. “Listen, I've been watching you. We've got the same problems – you can't get work up here, and neither can I. Everyone thinks I'm sweet, but lack the drive to do what it takes when the going gets tough. I've been prohibited from acting purely selflessly on mortal soil, and I'm guessing you have a similar, but opposite restriction?” There was a fire in the tall angel's eyes, one Bael had seen in his own on occasion. He nodded.
“Good,” the angel said, baring his own teeth in a feral smile, “lets go inside and talk this out. You've got the brain for evil, and I've got the body for it. Together, we can make this world our own.”
Bael felt a grin spreading across his face as they moved inside.
- D
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