Mercury Shrugs

by Robert Kroese

  “I know you don’t want to think about it, Mercury,” said Eddie, “but if we don’t set up some kind of organization to thwart the next attempt at world domination, nobody is going to do it. You know how most angels are. They’re lost without direction.”

  “Good point,” said Mercury, nodding. “And that’s exactly why this is a terrible idea.”

  Chapter Seven

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; October 12, 2016

  True to form, at the very moment Eddie was pleading for Mercury’s help, Tiamat was in a warehouse in Philadelphia, hatching her latest plan of world domination. If Eddie had known the nature of the plan or whom she was sharing it with, however, he might not have been so anxious to counter it.

  “I’m going to buy up all this worthless land here,” Tiamat said, pointing at a highlighted area on a blurry photocopied map of California and Nevada. “The nukes will hit here and here. If we hit the fault line just right, the land to the west should fall into the ocean, and we’ll be sitting on a million acres of oceanfront property.”

  Two men and a woman sat on crates around the discarded cable spool Tiamat was using as a table, studying the map with interest. As most of Tiamat’s minions had been apprehended by the federal authorities after the Brimstone Incident, she had never worked with these three before, so she was acutely aware of the need to impress them with the boldness of her plan. When she finished speaking, an awkward silence filled the vast, empty warehouse. The three glanced at each other uncertainly.

  “Well,” said Tiamat at last. “What do you think?”

  After another long silence, one of the men spoke up. He was a burly, swarthy-skinned man who wore an adhesive name tag that read:

  Hello!

  My name is

  Zicandar

  Tiamat had made them all wear nametags so she could keep them straight.

  “Do you have two nuclear bombs?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” said Tiamat. “We’re going to steal them.”

  “From who?” the man labeled Zicandar asked.

  Tiamat waved her hand dismissively. “Details,” she said.

  “I don’t think that’s how fault lines work,” said the other man, a pale, lanky guy apparently called Iriblis. “California isn’t just, like, a sheet of ice floating on the ocean. If you detonate nukes on a fault line, California will still be there. You might move it an inch or two, I guess.”

  “And aren’t you worried about fallout?” said the woman, who was labeled Mermera. Mermera was compactly built and had a stern face. Her shoulder-length black hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail behind her head. “You can’t just detonate a couple of nuclear warheads and then build a five-star resort at ground zero. It’ll take hundreds of years for the radiation to get down to a tolerable level.”

  Tiamat glared at them for a moment, but then allowed her visage to soften. “Very good!” she said. “That was just a test to see if you three had the smarts to execute the actual plan, which has nothing to do with nuclear weapons or fault lines at all. Congratulations, you all passed!”

  The three shrugged and exchanged glances, clearly not appreciating the value of Tiamat’s praise. “So what’s the real plan?” asked Zicandar.

  “Excellent question,” said Tiamat with a nod. “Very good. Right down to business. Let me ask you gentlemen a question: do you know anything about computers?”

  The three stared at her. “You mean like programming?” asked Zicandar. “Or hardware engineering, or what?”

  “I know some Javascript,” said Mermera.

  Tiamat sighed and shook her head. “I can see I will need to start at the beginning.” She pulled a sheet of paper from a manila folder in front of her and placed it on top of the map. It was a sheet that appeared to have been torn from a very old book, perhaps an encyclopedia. Most of the page was taken up by a black and white photo of a young woman in go-go boots feeding a punchcard into a machine the size of an industrial freezer. “This, gentlemen,” Tiamat said, pausing for effect, “is a computer.”

  The three exchanged nervous glances again, as if uncertain whether they were expected to laugh.

  Tiamat went on, “You see, large corporations use computers to allocate funds to different accounts. In many cases, the amount being transferred can’t be expressed as an exact dollar value, so the computer has to round the value to the nearest penny. Nobody notices the rounding because the amount being added or subtracted is so small, but these transactions occur millions of times a day, and it adds up to a lot of money. So what we’re going to do is—”

  “Program the computers to transfer all those fractions of a cent into an account that we control,” said Iriblis.

  Zicandar nodded. “This is like the oldest scam ever. You’d never get away with it.”

  “Also, it’s bullshit,” said Mermera. “I mean, maybe computers forty years ago didn’t have the capacity to store amounts beyond two decimal places, but these days it’s trivial. Hell, my phone can do it. You’d be shaving off billionths of a cent, at most. If you had root access to every computer used by every Fortune 500 company in the world, you might make a nickel a week. If you didn’t get caught, which you would.”

  Tiamat stared daggers at Mermera. She was so angry she was shaking. But she forced herself to close her eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. “Very good,” she managed to mutter after some time. “That too was a test.”

  “Why don’t you just tell us the actual plan?” said Zicandar. He and the others were clearly getting bored.

  “Yes, yes,” said Tiamat. “The actual plan. I suppose the time for tests has passed. Very well. What we are going to do is create an entirely new continent in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. You see, all we have to do is locate a substance that causes matter to duplicate—”

  “Out of curiosity,” said Iriblis, “Do you have any nefarious plans that weren’t stolen from Superman movies?”

  “I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Tiamat sniffed.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” muttered Mermera.

  There was a buzz from inside Zicandar’s jacket, and he held up his finger and pulled out a phone. Tiamat glared at him.

  “Burton,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, she’s here, but I don’t think she’s... of course I’ve got the box. Take it easy, D’Angelo. I can follow orders. I’m just saying, unless you want a recap of Superman Returns, I don’t think she has anything to offer us... No, that’s Man of Steel. Brandon Routh. How the fuck should I know? Check Rotten Tomatoes for fuck’s sake. Amy Adams. Yeah, I’m with you. Cute as a button. All right, I should go, she’s getting pretty pissed. See you back at the office.” He slid the phone back into his jacket. When his hand appeared again it was holding a Glock nine millimeter semiautomatic pistol. With his other hand, he produced a wallet, flipping it open to show a badge that read: FBI. The other two men produced guns as well.

  “Oh, how amusing,” said Tiamat, but she sounded more irritated than amused. “An FBI sting operation.”

  “I’m Special Agent Taylor Burton,” said the man labeled Zicandar. “These are agents Chad Rogers and Kristin Dexter. You’re under arrest, Ms. Midford. Or whatever your name really is.”

  Tiamat sighed. “I supposed I should have known posting a Craigslist ad for demonic henchmen would attract the wrong element. Are you guys even demons?”

  “No,” said Burton. “The FBI doesn’t hire demons, to my knowledge.”

  “Where did you get the names?”

  Burton reached into his backpack, pulled out a dog-eared paperback book, and tossed it onto the table. The cover read: Demonology for Total F***ing Imbeciles.

  “Should have known,” Tiamat muttered. “That damn book causes me more problems. It’s the only one on the market that actually has some solid information about demons.”

  “Demons aren’t real,” said Burton. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Tiamat leaned back in her chair—and then remembered that her chair was actually
a wooden crate. She caught herself before tumbling to the floor, and made an admirable though ineffective effort to pretend she had been stretching. When she had recovered her composure, she replied, “Oh, but they are, Special Agent Burton. And you’re also wrong to think I’m disappointed. Do you recall what the ad said would happen to non-demons who responded?”

  “Of course,” said Burton. “The ad promised that any mortal beings who showed up would be—and I quote—‘turned inside out’. I assumed it was a figure of speech.”

  “You assume too much,” replied Tiamat with a smile. “Turning people inside out is one of my favorite punishments. I never get tired of it. I’m just surprised that any human being would volunteer for the treatment.”

  Burton shrugged. “Give it your best shot,” he said.

  Tiamat smiled at him. “You know,” she said, “they say that pain is the best teacher. I’m going to make a believer out of you, Special Agent Burton.” She raised her right hand as if about to cast a spell. “For the ten seconds you have left on this planet, you’re going to know that demons are real.”

  Chapter Eight

  Berkeley, California; October 12, 2016

  Eddie frowned at Mercury. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why is organizing the angels a terrible idea?”

  Mercury sighed. “What are we going to do with these angels once we get them all together? As long as they’re scattered all over the world, they’re mostly harmless. But if we recruit them to join Eddie’s Angels, suddenly we’ve got to have something for them to do. If you don’t, someone else will. So what’s that going to be, Eddie? You going to retrieve cats from trees? Stop earthquakes? Intervene in wars? Prevent genocide? Thwart a coup, or maybe foment one? With that kind of power, you’re going to have to make some pretty tough calls. And like it or not, you’re going to end up involved in politics. People are going to look to you for solutions. Do you want that responsibility, Eddie? Do you think you can handle it?” Mercury took a swig of beer and shook his head. “If it’s true that I’ve got $800 million in the bank, I’m going to give it away. I’ll donate it to Doctors Without Borders or Nurses Without Boundaries or something. I don’t want that kind of power.”

  “I get what you’re saying, Mercury,” said Eddie, “but we don’t have the option of doing nothing. You know that Tiamat is working on something right now. Probably Michelle too. We’ll find out about it after the nefarious plot is already well underway. You’ll try to stay uninvolved, like you always do, but in the end your conscience will overcome your apathy and you’ll save the day. You’re not as unpredictable as you like to think you are. I’m just asking you to put a little planning into what you’re going to end up doing anyway. You save the world, Mercury. It’s your thing.”

  “No,” Mercury corrected, “my thing is saving the world begrudgingly, with minimal forethought and an immense amount of style.”

  “It’s really the first part that matters,” said Eddie.

  “Says you,” replied Mercury. “I’m sticking with the full package. It’s worked for me so far.”

  “So far, yes,” agreed Eddie. “But what if this time you’re too late? Is it really worth it to risk the world just so you can maintain your slacker image?”

  “It’s not an image,” said Mercury. “I’m fully devoted to the slacker lifestyle.” He let out a groan. “You know what we need?”

  “What?” asked Eddie.

  “An adult.”

  “You’re seven thousand years old, Mercury. I think you qualify.”

  “Only on paper. I’ll admit that I’m the smartest, bravest, most heroic, and apparently richest angel on Earth. But I don’t want to be in charge of anything. I’m not cut out for it. I’m not sure any of us are.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “As much as I hate to admit it,” said Mercury, “Heaven is a stabilizing influence on this plane. Yes, there was the whole apocalypse thing, but that was an anomaly. For seven thousand years, the authorities in Heaven kept pretty good tabs on this place. Michelle has an authoritarian streak, but you have to admit she’s largely been a positive influence. She just needs guidance.”

  “You want to try to reestablish contact with Heaven,” said Eddie.

  “I don’t want to do anything,” said Mercury. “But it’s like you said. If we don’t do it, someone else will. Imagine if Tiamat figures out a way to travel to other planes while the rest of us are still cut off from Heaven, with no way to call for reinforcements. Sure, she could do some damage if she managed to rebuild Chaos Faction with whatever demons are still running free, but the real risk is that she finally discovers the secret to interplanar travel. She could recruit demons from all over the multiverse and bring them here.”

  Eddie nodded, his brow furrowing. “But nobody knows how to build a portal generator except Balderhaz, and he’s disappeared as well.”

  “’Disappeared’ is a subjective term,” said Mercury.

  “You know where he is?”

  “I think I could get a hold of him if I needed to.”

  “Okay,” said Eddie, thinking it over. “I can see the value of focusing on building a portal generator rather than trying to locate the other angels. But if you really think it’s a good idea, why haven’t you started on it yet? Why haven’t you already contacted Balderhaz?”

  “Denial, I guess,” said Mercury. “Also, a project like this will take a lot of money. And I didn’t know I was loaded until five minutes ago.”

  Eddie nodded again, rubbing his chin. Mercury was actually making some sense. If Balderhaz really could reestablish contact with Heaven, it might be their best bet for keeping Tiamat under control. Suzy would probably be a little disappointed they wouldn’t be using her algorithm after all—but at least it had gotten them to Mercury, and Eddie was sure they’d find some other use for her.

  “All right,” Eddie said. “Let’s do it your way. When can we get started?”

  “Well,” said Mercury. “First we need to find Balderhaz.”

  “Okay, how do we do that?”

  “You have to understand,” said Mercury, “he may not want to be found.”

  “I understand,” said Eddie. “But you have some way of reaching out to him?”

  “Well, yes,” said Mercury. “It’s not a foolproof means of communication by any means, but I can give it a shot.”

  “Got it,” said Eddie. “So... should we come back tomorrow? Or, like, next week?”

  “What?” asked Mercury, furrowing his brow. “No. It shouldn’t take that long. It’s not that big of a house.” He took a deep breath and bellowed, “Balderhaz!”

  “Hang on,” said Eddie. “You’re saying that he’s—”

  “Shh!” Mercury hissed, cocking his head as if to listen.

  There was no sound for some time. Mercury sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of. He doesn’t want to be found. You take the upstairs, and I’ll take this floor. And if you find him, don’t make any sudden movements. He spooks easily.”

  Eddie nodded, getting up from his chair. Before they reached the door, it opened and Rhonda came in. “Did you say something, Mr. Curry?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Mercury. “We need to find Balder—I mean, Mr. Baldwin. You check the basement.”

  Rhonda nodded and turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Rhonda?” said Mercury. She stopped and turned to face him.

  “If we don’t find him in the next twenty minutes...” Mercury said, and then made the house-blowing-up motion.

  Panic came over Rhonda’s face and she turned and fled from the room.

  Mercury gave Eddie a puzzled glance. “What is it with people and banana bread?” he asked.

  Chapter Nine

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; October 12, 2016

  Tiamat’s smile faded, and was replaced with a look of exasperation. “How are you doing that?” she asked.

  “Doing what?” asked Burton.

  “Interfering with my ability to harness inter
planar energy! You shouldn’t be able to do that!” She paused. “Unless...”

  “Unless what?” asked Burton.

  “Unless you have a Balderhaz Cube.”

  “Is that what it’s called?” asked Burton. He reached into a backpack that lay against the crate he was sitting on and pulled out a metal box about the size of grapefruit. As Tiamat watched in dismay, he set the box on the spool, flipped a catch, and opened it. He pulled out fist-sized obsidian cube and set it on the spool next to the box.

  “Where did you get that?” Tiamat growled.

  “I got it from my boss. He said it would render you harmless. Frankly, though, you look pretty harmless anyway.”

  “Do I?” said Tiamat with a smile. She almost tried to lean back in her chair again, but caught herself in time. “In that case, perhaps we can agree on a friendly wager. Do you work out, Special Agent Burton?”

  Burton shrugged again. “I try to stay in shape.”

  “It shows,” said Tiamat. “How would you like to arm wrestle me?”

  Burton frowned. “I’m not going to arm wrestle a middle-aged woman.”

  “Why not? Afraid you’re going to lose? Tell you what, if you win, I’ll come with you willingly and tell you everything I know. If I win, you let me go.”

  “And what do you know that’s so valuable?” asked Burton.

  Tiamat smiled. “Nice try, Special Agent Burton. You find that out after you beat me. Obviously your boss thinks I know something or he wouldn’t have sent you after me.”

  “My boss thinks you had something to do with the Myrmidon plot. Says you spearheaded the whole mind control chip thing. But then, my boss didn’t just hear you pitch us the plots from three different Superman movies.”

  “I’m in a regrouping phase,” Tiamat said, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Clearly,” replied Burton. “As you’ve been reduced to posting ‘minions wanted’ ads on Craigslist.”