“We are under attack my Lord.” Jarrod was incredulous
“Who by?” Abaddon spoke sharply
“The Nordic Gods my Lord, from the Plains of Desolation. They often mount assaults, testing our defences. But this time they’ve broken through the outer shield. They’re over the city. They might even land here. We never thought this was even possible.” Jarrod still didn’t understand any of it
“What do they want?” Abaddon replied
“Who knows, my Lord? What does any God want? They seem to like killing us.” Jarrod had no idea what they were meant to do about it. He held Cassandra’s hand.
“Are we in any danger?” Abaddon replied quickly
“I don’t think so my Lord, there are only a few of them and this far in they have to be quite weak even if they have penetrated the shield. Most of the second legion is up there already. We can send in the fourth and the fifth if we need to.” The fire fight above continued. They watched with morbid fascination. Jarrod couldn’t count the number of demons flying about. But there seemed to be only four of the Nordic Gods and they appeared to be invincible. For every moment they watched some demon was successfully targeted, burst into flame and fell from the sky screaming. Abaddon was furious
“They’ve killed five hundred so far, my Lord.” Cassandra burst in
“But they’re demons, how can they die?” Abaddon ignored her and kept watching the sky. Jarrod spoke to Abaddon
“Answer her.” Abaddon turned back towards them, furious at Cassandra but as always fearful of the Lord Beelzebub and deferential to a fault.
“My Lord, once they’re here humans can’t die. Well, not again. Even by a God. Their souls are immortal. And most of them spend eternity here, rotting in the Pit.” He said this smugly, glancing at Cassandra. “Demons can’t kill each other, but they can be killed by a God. The real death. We cease to exist.” He shrugged. “No one wants that.”
Cassandra looked back at him harshly and with some menace
“Well, that’s good to know.” Abaddon could barely contain his rage. This insolent little bitch was going to pay, so badly. He would rip her to pieces slowly and enjoy every moment of it. But she belonged to the Master. For now he could say or do nothing. This would change soon enough, the Master never kept them for very long.
There was a deafening sound from above and one of the Gods came crashing down into the ground just in front of them. They all stepped back as he hit with considerable force. He didn’t appear to be dead, just dazed. He looked completely human: very tall, dark blonde hair, thick but cut short, blue eyes, bulging muscles and the facial demeanour of a hardened warrior. Five demons landed next to him and surrounded him. One of them, as quickly as he could, swung his axe and cut off the God’s head. He grabbed the head and held it up for all to see. He was exultant, almost delirious
“It’s that motherfucker Thor. Look, it’s Thor. I killed him. I killed him.” The other demons surrounding the body were similarly ecstatic. Abaddon quickly strode over to them. He barked an order.
“If you want him to stay dead, you had better get him into the Pit before he regenerates. Do it quickly.” The demon holding the head instantly turned and ran for the pit. The other soldiers picked up the headless body and followed him as fast as they could. Abaddon walked back to Jarrod and Cassandra shaking his head
“Morons.” But he was pleased with them. It wasn’t often that they got to take down a God. In fact it had never been done before. Times were certainly changing.
In the sky above reinforcements had arrived and the other Nordic Gods seemed to be being beaten back by sheer force of numbers. In a few more minutes it was over. No more fighting. Just silence. The Gods had departed. Squads of Demons would continue to patrol the sky, but nothing would happen for the rest of the day. Abaddon barked an order at the guards surrounding Jarrod and Cassandra. They saluted, turned and marched off. Things seemed to be returning to normal - whatever that was. Abaddon seemed relieved. He spoke to Jarrod
“All’s quiet on the Western Front my Lord.” Jarrod wondered where he’d managed to pick up that expression. It sounded ridiculous. He replied tersely
“Yeah whatever.” He glared at Abaddon. He knew what this little monster would do to Cassandra if he could. He wondered what would happen if he ordered Abaddon to throw himself into the Pit. That would be amusing. But instead he simply asked him
“How often does this happen? The attacks I mean.” Abaddon replied
“Until recently, my Lord, not often - once or twice a year. But over the last few months almost every night. Always the Nordic Gods, I don’t know why. We’ve never got one of them before though.” Jarrod was bored with him, he spoke abruptly
“Yes, I gathered that. All right, fuck off then, we’re going back inside.” Abaddon bowed
“Yes my Lord.” He walked away. He was used to being treated harshly. In fact he was pleased to see glimpses of the Master shining through the hopefully very temporary and oh so incredibly weak and pathetic human facade.
As Jarrod and Cassandra walked back to their room they were both feeling quite overwhelmed. Jarrod sighed
"I don't think we'll ever get any rest down here. But at least we know why we're here."Cassandra was puzzled
"Why?" Jarrod was trying to make light of it all
"Well apparently, I rebelled against God right back in the beginning - and lost. While you, by your own admission, like fucking men - in a non-biblically approved fashion." Cassandra laughed
"You think He takes a dim view of that?" Jarrod smiled.
"Well it's not actually mentioned anywhere - no explicit prohibition. I don’t think they even thought of it back then. But yes I'm pretty certain he does. He doesn’t seem to tolerate much. He is obviously fairly limited in scope." Cassandra seemed to be thinking about it, she replied slowly and more seriously
"You know, I didn’t really like it that much - but it paid well and I needed the money." Jarrod couldn’t think of any kind of smart response to that. So he said nothing.
Chapter 8 – Social Stability
Jarrod had taken the tube to Piccadilly Circus and was now walking along Blithe Street looking for the restaurant. He was in a foul mood, worse than ever - a long way from his normal carefully restrained placidness. The Golden Cat! What a ridiculous name for a restaurant! He already regretted agreeing to go out for the evening. But his friend Robert McDowell had been unrelenting. He saw Robert everyday at work - though he hadn’t seen Robert's wife Wendy for quite some time. She was not completely unpleasant - sometimes. Just the three of them might make a tolerable night of it. But what annoyed him immensely is that they'd set him up on what was in effect a blind date - one of Wendy's friends, Caroline. He didn’t understand why they felt the need to periodically inflict on him this kind of misery. Robert had told him all about Caroline - he had seemed quite enthusiastic. But Jarrod couldn't remember any of it. He knew he was in for another long and awkward evening and wasn’t looking forward to it at all.
It was bitterly cold. He was wearing a large thick coat - he adjusted it, trying to pull it around his neck more tightly. What sort of idiot went out for the evening in January! And yet the street was full. People everywhere, rushing about. A small group of them were standing outside a pub arguing. Jarrod had to walk around them. He was becoming increasingly agitated. As he crossed the next intersection a car sped towards him not bothering to slow down. He had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit. Regaining his balance he span back around in a rage all but ready to haul the driver out through the window and smash his head into the pavement. But the car had already made it half way down the next street - the driver surely yet another dull unthinking cretin, probably completely oblivious to his offense. Jarrod took a few deep breathes, calming himself as best he could. These people weren’t even worth pissing on.
He looked around anxiously. Someone was following him - watching him. This wasn’t the first time. But he couldn’t make out who it was. It w
as infuriating. He shook his head and continued looking for the restaurant. Finally he saw it - a large golden sign just a dozen meters ahead - 'the Golden Cat'. He rushed towards it, fumbled with the door - managing eventually to get it open and move on inside. There were people everywhere. The noise was overwhelming - but at least it was warm. Robert had said to meet him upstairs. Jarrod looked around for the stairway. There it was, at the back! He had to push his way through the crowd around the bar in order to get there. He made his way up the stairs, around to the left, down the corridor. He passed several largish rooms, all crowded, none of them containing Robert and party. Finally in the room at the end of the corridor he saw Robert and Wendy. The room was as crowded as the others - at least a dozen other people. Sitting across the table from them there was an unknown female, presumably Caroline. She was a little short and frumpy, rather large looking, short black hair, thick glasses. Even at first glance though she did seem quite bright! She was already staring at him with an obvious sense of expectation. Jarrod sighed, thinking to himself
'Oh yes, this was going to be just fucking great.'
Robert greeted him warmly, helped him with his coat - placing it on the rack behind them. He responded, shook Robert's hand, nodded to Wendy and then very self-consciously took his seat across from Caroline. Robert was quick to make the introductions.
"Jarrod, you know Wendy, this is Caroline Lerner. She's a mathematician at King's College. Caroline this is Jarrod, Jarrod Bennett - one of my wayward colleagues." Caroline held out her hand
"Hello Jarrod." Jarrod shook it quickly, replying
"Hello." Jarrod and Wendy exchanged greetings. Then there was an awkward pause. There was already a jug of beer on the table. Robert poured a glass for Jarrod and handed it to him. Jarrod took a sip. Robert looked over at Caroline
"Why don't you tell Jarrod about your work?" Caroline took a breathe
"Well, as I was just saying, my Topology group is looking at a new way of trying to classify three dimensional manifolds." Jarrod was not uninterested. He asked
"Wasn't that done by Perelman a few years ago - one of the millennium problems?" Caroline seemed pleased that he knew something about it.
"No, Perelman showed that the only compact simply connected three manifolds were three spheres. A fantastic result! But he did this without any kind of classification. That remains unsolved." Jarrod replied simply
"Oh!" Caroline was eager to complete her thoughts, she rushed on. "It's trivial to classify one and two dimensions - four and above have been done in the last few decades. Three has always been too hard. But I think we're making a lot of progress. We might even do it!" Her enthusiasm was quite evident, and Jarrod was impressed.
The waiter arrived to take their orders. The others had already decided - Jarrod had to quickly scan the menu. He asked for steak and chips. Robert ordered another jug of beer - everyone seemed happy with that. Wendy caught Caroline's attention.
"Jarrod's been doing some work on the philosophy of mathematics." Caroline looked a bit dubious. She asked abruptly
"What!" Jarrod was amused, he smiled.
"Don't be like that. Maybe if you knew exactly what it was you were actually doing you might be able to do it better." He realised that this had come out a bit more harshly than he intended but Caroline didn’t seem to care. She just shrugged
"Maybe. Not very likely. What are you looking at?" Jarrod spoke carefully
"The influence of phenomenology on early intuitionism - Brouwer especially."
Caroline could hardly hide her distaste, she blurted out
"Intuitionism!" But Jarrod replied quickly
"Oh, I think its rubbish too, thoroughly. But you see the really interesting question is how it got such a grip on so many apparently intelligent people. And they thought of themselves as the ones being tough minded!" Caroline shrugged
“Fashion of the month”. Before she could say anything else the new jug arrived and Robert promptly refilled everyone’s glass.
Caroline and Wendy got up and went off to the ladies room together. Robert smiled at him. Jarrod stared back at him
"What?" Robert laughed.
"So you think you made a good first impression?” Jarrod scowled at him
"Give it a rest." But Robert wouldn’t be put off.
"What do you think they're talking about in there?" After a few moments Jarrod made the comment
"She seems to be quite intelligent. I like her enthusiasm." Robert was amused and stared at Jarrod for a few moments.
"She's one of the most brilliant mathematicians in England. Smart enough for you - you conceited prick." Jarrod was used to Robert’s insults. He spoke slowly
"It's just that, she's ..." Robert glared at him, smiling darkly
"Go on, I dare you to say it!" Jarrod hesitated. But before he could say anything further the two women returned and then the food started arriving. It was already late and they were all quite hungry. They polished off their dinners with some enthusiasm not saying much more until they were finished.
Jarrod was still in a foul mood. He saw all of this as just so much awkward social jabber - forced mutual obligations defined and scripted. A good bar brawl would be more interesting - he looked around hopefully: a bunch of students, loud but apparently harmless, an elderly couple, three business men still in suits. No, not much chance there. They all looked thoroughly tamed and domesticated. He still felt like he was being watched. But who could it be? He looked out through the open door. No-one there! Wendy had finished her drink and locked her eyes on Jarrod.
"I wanted to ask you something." She wasn’t drunk yet. Jarrod knew from experience she could be a nasty drunk. He replied cautiously
"Yes". Wendy ploughed right in.
"Caroline and I were arguing about morality before". Jarrod sighed, thinking to himself
'Oh God here we go.' He really didn’t like Wendy much, try as he might. She should stick to astrophysics - Cepheid variables or whatever the hell it was she studied. All amateur philosophisers should be lobotomized at birth - or at the very least their tongues removed. Wendy didn’t seem to notice his reservations, she pushed on
"Obviously none of us think there's any kind of objective basis - theological or otherwise. I was arguing that it's all about social stability. For example, we can't all go around murdering each other - society would collapse. So there have to be rules against it and the rules need to be internalised as morality." In the interests of maintaining a civil relationship with Robert, Jarrod decided to mute his response to some degree.
"Well Wendy, of course it is, it's not that complicated - fix in your mind some examples of stable societies and the ones that aren’t, or aren't yet or have recently ceased to be. Pick some examples from around the world, current, historical. Any of them will do. Certain patterns stand out. It seems pretty clear that social stability consists of a well organised, well established, more or less agreed upon and always very well enforced system of who fucks who. Always has been, and always will be. It breaks down from time to time and then there's trouble, people start killing each other - until some new system is established. Morality so called is just a layer of justificatory bullshit on the surface – hypocrisy, ideology and deception." Wendy looked back at him - not quite sure how to respond. She hadn’t thought of it quite so negatively. But Caroline stared at him coolly
"You are implicitly assuming morality includes fairness, or should - there are other definitions." Jarrod was impressed - she was quick. Cold! But quick! He replied
"Maybe." Caroline was unrelenting.
"Pithy phrases are no substitute for clear thinking." Jarrod kept looking at her. She was kind of hot in a way - after all. Perhaps he would be fucking her later - if she played her cards right, and if that's what he wanted. It was the whole point of this little farce - wasn’t it? No way was he getting drawn into some bullshit verbal spat though - that was the whole point of pithy phrases.
"You're absolutely right. Let's have anoth
er drink." He could see Robert looking at him over the table. Robert raised his right eyebrow - clearly amused.
Wendy tried to continue on with her argument. Jarrod stared her down telling her bluntly
"Not now Wendy, really." Fortunately Robert backed him up, distracting her with something or other. Caroline was watching all of this with cold detachment. She said to him, quietly, her intended meaning quite obvious
"OK, we won't argue then. So, what would you like to do?" Jarrod started to reply but stopped abruptly. He noticed something odd. All conversation in the room had ended and now everyone else in the room was staring at him. It was not overly hostile and only vaguely threatening, just weird. It felt like some kind of temporal distortion. Some twisted kind of Deja vu! It lasted just for a moment then everything went back to normal. He blinked, looked about. No one else had noticed. He didn’t know how to react to that. He simply continued on with what he had started to say
"We can do whatever you want to do." Caroline seemed pleased enough with his reply.
"All right then." Jarrod smiled briefly. Good. At least that was settled. They stayed in the restaurant for another hour. Robert and Wendy did most of the talking. Robert reminded Jarrod of their upcoming trip to Amsterdam – only a few months now. A conference! Sure! He wasn’t sure if Wendy caught the sarcasm. He was certain that Caroline did - and equally certain that she didn't care in the slightest. This time he had the feeling that someone was listening to them - and listening with especially great interest to talk of their trip to Amsterdam. Again, disturbing but again there wasn’t much he could do. He just kept getting angrier.
The Department of Hate - A Love Story Page 7
