“What I’m saying is this is difficult stuff for a fifteen year old.”
“And yet I seem to be the only one here who’s read it.”
Reagan laughed heartily. “I like your spirit, son,” he said. “But this isn’t about us. It’s about America.”
“Stop it and listen to…” Jala paused. This wasn’t working. It wasn’t even not working in a logical way. There was a blankness to the other man. It was strange. He felt himself wanting to like him, even though he had done nothing likeable. A magnetic pull. Something strange.
Reagan slapped him on the back again. “America is a great country. It’s morning in America!”
That did it. Something was off. Reagan couldn’t turn off the folksiness. It wasn’t even a ruse. There was nothing underneath it. It was charisma and avuncular humor all the way down. All the way down to what? Jala didn’t know.
He spoke a Name.
Reagan jerked, more than a movement but not quite a seizure. “Ha ha ha!” said Reagan. “I like you, son!”
Jalaketu spoke another, longer Name.
Another jerking motion, like a puppet on strings. “There you go again. Let’s make this country great!”
A third Name, stronger than the others.
“Do it for the Gipper!…for the Gipper!…for the Gipper!”
“Huh,” said Jalaketu. Wheels turned in his head. The Gipper. Not even a real word. Not English, anyway. Hebrew then? Yes. He made a connection; pieces snapped into place. The mighty one. Interesting. It had been a very long time since anybody last thought much about haGibborim. But how were they connected to a random California politician? He spoke another Name.
Reagan’s pupils veered up into his head, so that only the whites of his eyes were showing. “Morning in America! Tear down that wall!”
“No,” said Jalaketu. “That won’t do.” He started speaking another Name, then stopped, and in a clear, quiet voice he said “I would like to speak to your manager.”
Reagan briefly went limp, like he had just had a stroke, then sprung back upright and spoke with a totally different voice. Clear. Lilting. Feminine. Speaking in an overdone aristocratic British accent that sounded like it was out of a period romance.
“You must be Jalaketu. Don’t you realize it’s rude to disturb a woman this early in the morning?” The President’s eyes and facial muscles moved not at all as the lips opened and closed.
“I know your True Name,” said Jalaketu. “You are Gadiriel, called the Lady. You are the angel of celebrity and popularity and pretense.”
“Yes.”
“You’re…this is your golem, isn’t it?”
“Golems are ugly things. Mud and dust. This is my costume.”
“This is an abomination. You’ve taken over America.”
“I have saved America,” corrected the Lady.
“Not yours to save!” said Jalaketu. He drew the sword Sigh from…he drew the sword Sigh. “This is America! Government by the people, of the people, for the people. What’s good is their decision, not yours. You should have left it alone!”
“Like you did, Jalaketu ben Raziel?”
“That’s different! I’m American. I was born here.”
“Dear, you’re what? Five years old? I’ve been in America longer than there’s been an America. I am America. I watched it through the curtain of Uriel’s machinery, and when I could I sent my love through the cracks. Who do you think it was who made George Washington so dashing on his stallion? Who put the flourish in John Hancock’s signature? Who do you think it was who wrote Abe Lincoln telling him to grow a beard? I stood beside all those foolish beautiful people talking about cities on hills or nations of gentlemen-farmers or the new Athens and gave their words my fire. Who do you think whispered the Battle Hymn into Julia Ward Howard’s ears as she slept? Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword. His truth is marching on.”
“He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,” said Jalaketu. “He is wisdom to the mighty, He is succor to the brave. The world will be His footstool, and the soul of Time His slave.”
“You’re a fan?” asked the Lady.
Jalaketu knelt, like David had knelt before Saul three thousand years earlier. “I wronged you, my lady”, he told Reagan. “What I said was hurtful. Please forgive me.”
The door cracked open, and a woman came in bearing a tray. “Coffee and snacks, Mr. President, Mr. West?” President Reagan regained his facial musculature and laughed in his own voice. “Aw, Sally, you always know exactly what we need,” he said, and flashed her a huge smile. She blushed and set down the tray. “Anything else? Anything for you, Mr. West?” The boy shook his head. “That’ll be plenty,” said the President, “You go get some lunch yourself.” She smiled and left. Reagan’s pupils veered back up into his skull, and the angelic voice returned.
“I accept your apology, Jalaketu ben Kokab,” said the Lady, “but the golem’s opinions are mine as well. I will not let you tear my country apart. I didn’t feed Lincoln all those battle plans through Nettie Maynard just to let people break the Union when things got tough. America’s story isn’t done yet. It’s too beautiful a story, and it’s not yet done.”
“Your intentions are good,” said Jalaketu, “but you’re running on hope and empty promises, and you know it. Without the Midwest, everything’s scattered geographically; with air travel and roads what they are DC can barely connect to Sacramento, let alone rule it. Even if you can get the others in by sheer force of will, it’ll be your powers as the Lady that do it and not the geopolitical realities. As soon as you try to leave the stage, the whole thing will collapse, and you might not get another chance.”
“I will keep it together,” said the Lady. “I’ll stay as long as it takes.”
“For what? Is that how you want America’s story to end? An angel tricks them into giving her supreme power, and uses supernatural charisma and giant smiles to force the nation to cling to life despite itself? You want to possess President after President till kingdom come? My idea offers something legitimate and self-sustaining. Give the states some independence, bow to reality, but keep the country together.”
“And what about you? Are you going to give up power in Colorado? Put down that ridiculous crown of yours?”
“No,” admitted Jalaketu. “I have a mission. I don’t have enough time to do it the right way, so I’m going to do it the fast way. But if I ever finished, then…yes. Yes, I would set Colorado free.”
“I also have a mission,” said the Lady. “I protect dreams and stories. I also don’t always have enough time to do it right.”
“I’m not ending the story,” said Jalaketu. “Just proposing a new chapter.” He placed his briefcase on the table, took out a document, handed it to Reagan. “A constitutional amendment. Well, a set of constitutional amendments. More of a Constitution 2.0.”
“Typo in the title,” said the Lady.
“No,” said Jalaketu. “There isn’t.”
Reagan thought for a second, then laughed. “I like you, Jalaketu ben Kokab. But not enough to give up.”
“It’s not giving up! You know and I know this has to be done. We can do it now, the right way, peacefully. Or it can happen later, badly, without our input.”
Reagan scanned the document again. Her eyes narrowed.
“Look,” said Jala. “Jefferson. Declaration of Independence. Was that you?”
“What do you think?”
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to
alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”
“Don’t you twist my words at me. I know what I meant!”
Jalaketu answered: “It is not in Heaven.”
Reagan started laughing. Then kept laughing. Then laughed some more. “You are really something, Jalaketu ben Kokab. You really think you can do this thing?”
“Somebody has to and no one else will.”
“You know,” said Gadiriel, “the thing about America is that everyone comes here, everyone becomes a part of it, everyone contributes. The African-Americans all stand up for each other and add their mark. So do the Mexican-Americans. I think it’s time we Celestial-Americans present a united front, don’t you agree?”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe. We’ll negotiate. We’ll talk. But in the end I think you will have your Untied States.”
A presidential staffer came in. “Mr. President, lunch is ready. Reporters from the Times are there, they’ve been waiting to meet Mr. Jalaketu for a long time.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious!” said President Reagan, laughing. “And I’m sure our guest here is starving as well. We’ll be in in a moment. In the meantime, let the press know that I’ll be calling a conference tonight. We’re going to have to renegotiate parts of the reunification plans, and I want Mr. Jalaketu there to help me sell this to the public.”
Chapter 32: The Human Form Divine
August 7, 1991
Gulf of Mexico
I.
Sohu stretched, splayed out further. “Knock knock,” she said.
“OH. THIS AGAIN.”
“Knock knock.”
“WHO’S….THERE?”
“So.”
“SO WHO?”
“Sohu’s at the door, better let her in.”
“HA! HA! HA!” Uriel’s laughter boomed, shook the clouds, shook the ocean, drowned out the everpresent thunder of the surrounding storm. It was a fiery golden laugh, like pyrotechnics, like solar flares.
“I AM ONLY LAUGHING TO BE POLITE,” he finally said. “I DON’T ACTUALLY GET IT.”
Sohu’s face fell.
“It’s a pun!” she said. “Because you said so who, and it sounds like my name, Sohu.”
“I SEE,” said Uriel, suspiciously.
“Yes,” said Sohu. “You are going to learn this. I have decided. You will learn knock knock jokes, and you will be good at them.”
“UM.”
“I’m serious about this! You’re like the best person I know at finding unexpected connections between words and meanings! That’s what jokes are! You’re missing your calling! Come on! Try it!”
“HOW?”
“Start with ‘knock knock'”.
“KNOCK KNOCK.”
“Who’s there?”
“I AM NOT SURE.”
“Say a word! Any word! The first thing you think of!”
“ALEPH.”
“Okay. Aleph who?”
“I AM STILL NOT SURE.”
“A pun. Some sentence that includes a pun on the word aleph. Something that sounds like it.”
“UM. ACCORDING TO THE BOOK OF ZECHARIAH, THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD WILL BEGIN ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.”
“How does that – ? Oh. Aleph. Olives. Um. Sort of. But it needs to be sudden and surprising. It needs to have pizazz. You’ll get it eventually.”
One got the impression that if Uriel had not been hundreds of feet tall, Sohu would have tried to pat his head.
“ALL OF MY JOKES ARE TERRIBLE.”
“Aaaaaaaaaah!” Sohu waved her arms. “That! That should have been your joke! Knock knock! Who’s there? Aleph. Aleph who? All of my jokes are terrible.”
“I AM SORRY.”
“I don’t get it! You are so good at all of this language stuff, and you can find like seven zillion connections between apparently unrelated words, and you can’t crack a basic knock-knock joke! Why? WHY?”
“THEY ARE HARD.”
“Learning every human language is hard! Knock knock jokes are easy!”
“IF I TRY TO LEARN HOW TO DO KNOCK KNOCK JOKES, WILL YOU TRY TO LEARN EVERY HUMAN LANGUAGE?”
“Uriel. You. Do. Not. Understand. Humans.”
The archangel harrumphed and went back to running the universe.
II.
“OF ALL KABBALISTIC CORRESPONDENCES, THE MOST IMPORTANT IS THE CLAIM THAT GOD MADE MAN IN HIS OWN IMAGE. EXPLAIN HOW THE STRUCTURE OF DIVINITY CORRESPONDS TO THE HUMAN BODY.”
“The ten fingers are the ten sephirot, the ten emanations by which God manipulates the material world. The bilateral symmetry is the two branches of the Tree of Life, which correspond to the two human arms. The right branch is called Mercy and the left branch is called Severity.”
“SEVERAL MONTHS AGO, I GAVE YOU A HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT. YOU WERE TO FIGURE OUT WHY IN HUMAN POLITICS, THE RIGHT-WING TENDS TO BE CONCERNED WITH JUSTICE AND THE LEFT-WING WITH MERCY, EVEN THOUGHT THESE ARE THE OPPOSITES OF THE KABBALISTIC CORRESPONDENCES.”
“Uriel, all the homework you give me is impossible.”
“I WILL GIVE YOU A HINT. MATTHEW 25:32. BEFORE HIM ALL THE NATIONS WILL BE GATHERED, AND HE WILL SEPARATE THEM FROM ONE ANOTHER, AS A SHEPHERD SEPARATES THE SHEEP FROM THE GOATS. HE WILL SET THE SHEEP ON HIS RIGHT HAND, BUT THE GOATS ON HIS LEFT.”
“There’s nothing so impossible it can’t be made more confusing by adding in some apocalyptic prophecy.”
“IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE. A SIMPLE SOLUTION RESOLVES BOTH PROBLEMS. THINK ABOUT IT. YOU ARE VERY SMART.”
Sohu thought for a moment.
“I WILL GIVE YOU ANOTHER HINT. DEUTERONOMY 5:4.”
“The Lord spoke to you face to face at the mountain from the midst of the fire. Uh. Wait, yes, that makes sense!”
“YES?”
“We are all face to face with God. So our right is His left, and vice versa!”
“YES. SO HOW DOES GOD PART THE RIGHTEOUS ON HIS RIGHT SIDE AND THE WICKED UPON HIS LEFT?”
“He…oh, He just says ‘Everyone who wants to go to Heaven, get to the right.’ And the wicked, who think only of themselves, go to their own right. And the virtuous, who are always thinking of God, go to God’s right.”
“YES.”
“So God’s right and humans’ left means mercy, and God’s left and humans’ right means justice.”
“YES. THIS IS WHY WHEN PEOPLE TALK ABOUT JUSTICE, THEY SPECIFY THAT THEY MEAN HUMAN RIGHTS.”
“I think that might be something different.”
“NO.”
“You’re silly.”
“I AM N…” Uriel trailed off, as if deep in thought. Finally, he asked:
“TELL ME THE KABBALISTIC SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ROOT R-K-T.”
Sohu knew better than to argue at this point. “Um. Wrecked. Racked. Ragged, sort of. Rocked. Rickety. And it’s got the T-R combination which we already talked about signifying pure power. Something raw and destructive. Why do you ask?”
Uriel stood listening intently. “SOMETHING IS HAPPENING INVOLVING THOSE LETTERS.”
A background whine crescendoed into a scream. A rocket streaked across the sky, headed straight toward them. Lightning-fast, Uriel reached out a giant hand and caught it in his palm.
“OH.” he said.
Sohu was lying face-down on the cloud, wishing she had a desk to duck-and-cover under.
“IT IS FINE,” said Uriel. “THIS IS HOW PEOPLE SEND ME MESSAGES.”
“They couldn’t just pray?”
“SO MANY PEOPLE PRAY THAT I HAVE STOPPED PAYING ATTENTION,” said Uriel.
“What if somebody actually tries to bomb you?!”
“YOUR FATHER WOULD TELL ME,” said Uriel. “SINCE HE DID NOT SAY ANYTHING, I ASSUMED IT WAS SAFE.” He held the rocket up to get a closer look. It was a Minuteman missile, the sort used by the United States Air Force. Written on one side
, in what was startlingly good calligraphy for a message on a cylindrical surface, was the message: “You are invited to attend the Multilateral Conference On The Middle Eastern Peace Process in Madrid, starting October 30.”
Sohu clapped her hands.
“You should go!” she said.
“NO.”
“Why no?”
“I NEVER GO TO THESE THINGS. THEY ARE TERRIBLE AND FULL OF ARGUMENTS AND NO ONE LIKES ME.”
“Everyone likes you! They want your opinion.”
“HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO AN INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE?”
“Father goes all the time. He says that negotiation is the key to power.”
“I DO NOT WANT POWER.”
“Yes you do! You control the world! You have power over the weather and the stars and plants and animals and all those things. And they all work really well! Maybe if you tried to have some power over people too, we would work really well.”
“STARS AND ANIMALS AND WEATHER ARE EASY. PEOPLE ARE HARD.”
“Father says that diplomacy is about playing the game. Figure out what people want and explain to them why doing things your way will get it for them better than doing things the other way. It’s about being creative. You’re this genius who can come up with connections between the Parable of the Sheep and Goats and human rights. Diplomacy would be so much fun for you.”
“THAMIEL WILL BE THERE. I AM SURE HE WILL. EVERYONE LIKES THAMIEL. THEY LISTEN TO HIM.”
“They listen to him because he talks to them! I’ve seen you and Thamiel! You zapped him like a fly! Thamiel has power because he tries to have power. If you tried to have power, you would have even more than he does! You could bring peace to the Middle East. And you could get people to join together, like my father does. You could have everybody join together and fight Thamiel.”
“I AM NOT SURE ANGELS HAVING POWER OVER HUMANS IS GOOD. I REMEMBER WHEN SOME OF THE ANGELS TRIED TO GET POWER OVER HUMANS. GADIRIEL. SAMYAZAZ. EVERYONE WAS VERY UPSET.”
“Gadiriel became President and saved the Untied States! It was great! I got to go to the White House with Father and have dinner with her avatar once!”
“THE BIBLE DOES NOT SEEM TO LIKE ANGELS RULING OVER HUMANS. THE NEPHILIM CAUSED NOAH’S FLOOD. GOD APPOINTED SAUL AS KING OF THE ISRAELITES, EVEN THOUGH HE HAD MANY ANGELS TO CHOOSE FROM. IF I WERE TO RULE OVER HUMANS THE SAME WAY I RULE OVER STARS AND WEATHER, THEN THEY WOULD BECOME MACHINE PARTS THE SAME WAY STARS AND WEATHER ARE.”
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