Mercury Rests

by Robert Kroese

  The story of Job is one that everybody thinks they know, at least in broad strokes: man becomes fabulously wealthy; man is held up as an example of righteousness; man is subjected to horrific torments to prove his loyalty to God; man is subjected to a lot of really unhelpful advice from his friends; man gives up trying to figure out where he went wrong; man gets all his stuff back.

  The full story, however, is known only to very few. Even Job himself, playing Ping-Pong at the End of Time, remained largely ignorant of much of the backstory. It is only with the help of some recently declassified Heavenly documents that we can piece together something like the whole narrative. Observe:

  After the Great Flood, there had been a lot of bickering and recriminations among the wise men of the various Fertile Crescent civilizations about who was to blame for the unprecedented calamity. There was widespread agreement that large numbers of people had been acting immorally and worshiping false gods, but that was where the agreement ended. There was no consensus on what constituted moral behavior or who the true gods were. The best the wise men could do was to come to a general agreement that everybody would be better off if people weren’t such assholes all the time. Even this modest principle was undermined by the fact that the gods themselves seemed to be mostly assholes, doing a lot of assholish things like dismembering each other and scattering each other’s limbs along the Nile.

  One man who didn’t have a lot of patience for either people or gods who acted like assholes was a young farmer in the land of Uz by the name of Job. Nobody knew where Job got his ideas exactly, but Job was convinced that life wasn’t as complicated as everybody made it out to be. He believed that if you were nice to other people and you worked hard, you tended to do OK. There was no need to remember eighty-seven different deities and the specific behavior required to keep from pissing each of them off, nor was there any need to remember who had pissed you off and who you had pissed off, and which of these people were important enough to worry about having pissed them off or being pissed off at. Just be nice to people and work hard; that was Job’s motto. And surprisingly enough, it worked. People liked Job. They trusted him. They liked working for him, and they liked having him work for them. With all the time and emotional energy that Job saved by not worrying about petty shit that didn’t matter, he was able to get more work done and make sure he always met his commitments to other people. Job believed in just one God, who was not an asshole. He believe that his God would reward him for being nice to people and working hard. By all accounts, he was right.

  Job became very wealthy. He had seven sons and three daughters, and at the peak of his wealth he owned seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred donkeys.3 Pretty soon other landowners and merchants were traveling from miles around to ask Job what his secret was. He was happy to explain his philosophy to them, but these impromptu meetings started to cut into his schedule. One of his servants suggested that he write his principles down on some clay tablets, which would then be copied and delivered to anyone who requested them, for a small fee. The result was an eighteen-pound, three-tablet book called The Success God Wants for You! It was an instant bestseller by the admittedly low standards of mostly preliterate Mesopotamia, outselling nearly three to one The Seven Habits of Those Who Avoid the Wrath of Ereshkigal, Supreme Goddess of the Underworld.

  Job’s success did not go unnoticed in Heaven. Members of the Seraphic Senate began to hold up Job as a model human being, proof that that the Divine Plan was back on track after the Flood. Many in Heaven believed that Job’s message of working hard and being nice to people would spread across the Mundane Plane. People would cooperate against famine, poverty, and disease. War would end. Peace and prosperity would sweep the plane.

  Lucifer, consolidating his power on the Infernal Plane, took notice as well. He was determined that Job’s simplistic yet powerful principles would not prevail on the Mundane Plane. He would find a flaw in Job’s principles and exploit it, exposing him as the simple-minded fool he was. But doing so would not be easy. Heaven, having taken an interest in Job’s success, had him under constant cherubic guard. Lucifer’s minions couldn’t get near him.

  Fortunately for Lucifer, one of his first diabolical projects after being kicked out of Heaven began to bear fruit around this time. Realizing that the interplanar hub known as the planeport was the key to all interplanar travel and communication, he expended a great deal of effort covertly corrupting a variety of planeport personnel. This allowed him to stay in the loop regarding Heavenly activities and to occasionally make a trip to the Mundane Plane to oversee his schemes without being arrested by security.

  By a fortuitous coincidence, right around the time that Job reached the pinnacle of his success, Lucifer received a report from one of his spies that the archangel Michael would be making a brief stopover at the planeport on the way to the Mundane Plane. Michael rarely left Heaven, but the flooding on the Mundane Plane had gotten so bad that Michael wanted to survey the damage himself. Lucifer spotted an opportunity.

  He pulled some strings to have his own agents placed on Michael’s security detail. When Michael appeared, right on schedule, they incapacitated Michael’s personal bodyguard—as well as an unlucky interloper by the name of Mercury—and abducted the celestial general.4

  Of course, “Michael” was actually Michelle: her security precautions involved promoting the misconception that Michelle was a tall, brawny, white male, rather than a diminutive, dark-skinned female. It made no difference to Lucifer: the important thing was that he had captured the general of the Heavenly army, embarrassing the Senate. He knew they would do just about anything to get her back. Lucifer proposed a meeting with representatives of Heaven on neutral ground5 to discuss the matter.

  The Senate formed a special Ad Hoc Committee on Ensuring the Security of Key Military Personnel, which met Lucifer in an unremarkable conference room. Cravutius, the head of the Committee, spoke first:

  “So, Lucifer. Where have you come from?”

  Lucifer waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, you know,” he said nonchalantly. “From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.”

  The committee members grumbled to each other. Lucifer smiled. He knew that the Senate liked to think he was uncomfortably sequestered on the Infernal Plane (and, truth be told, most of the time he was), and he loved to tease them with the notion that he spent his time leisurely touring the Mundane Plane.

  “You know why we’re here,” said Cravutius. “You need to release Michael. If you expect any sort of leniency for your crimes—”

  “Leniency!” Lucifer cried. “Let’s not kid ourselves. I’m well past leniency. What are you going to do, shave a few months off my ten-thousand-year sentence? No, I’ll tell you how this is going to work. I’m going to give you Michelle, and you are going to grant me absolute power over the entire Mundane Plane.”

  Cravutius stifled a laugh. The committee erupted in grumbles and snarls. “See here, you insolent fool!” hissed one member.

  “Silence!” barked Cravutius. “Lucifer, if you’re not going to take these negotiations seriously, then I’ll end these proceedings right now.”

  “Oh, I’m deadly serious,” said Lucifer. “I’ve seen how you yahoos are running things down there. Wars, corruption, human sacrifice...and this damned flood! Nearly wiped out every living thing on Earth! Even your vaunted Seraphic Civilization Shepherding Program is in danger of being shut down. Tiamat has gone rogue, and now you’ve got that idiot Marduk running Babylon. How long do you think that’s going to last? Gentlemen, please. This is no way to run the Universe’s showcase plane. You need to put somebody competent in charge before things go completely to hell. So to speak.”

  He lifted a leather briefcase from beside his chair and laid it on the table in front of him. “I’ve taken the liberty of making several copies of my résumé for your perusal. I think you’ll find that I have all the necessary qualifications.
” He flipped the catches on the briefcase and opened it, then pulled out a stack of papers, which he distributed to the committee members. Most of them muttered to themselves, refusing to even touch the paper, but Cravutius picked up his copy with a weary sigh and began reading:

  Lucifer a.k.a. Satan a.k.a. “The Devil”

  666 Lucifer Way

  Diabopolis, Plane 3774d

  Career Objective

  I am looking for a position as the unquestioned despot of a major plane occupied by at least ten million sentient beings whom I can manipulate for my own diabolical purposes.

  Key Skills

  Proficient in corrupting mortals

  Independent thinker

  Experience overseeing a rebellious throng of demonic minions

  PowerPoint

  Work Experience

  Director of Marketing

  Heaven

  Inception–Fall of Man

  Oversaw award-winning “Let There Be Light®” campaign

  Demonic Overlord

  Hell

  Fall of Man–Present

  Spearheaded groundbreaking “Surely You Will Not Die if You Eat of the Fruit®” campaign

  References available upon request

  Cravutius set the paper down and glared at Lucifer. “I’m afraid we’re not looking for an unquestioned despot at the moment,” he said curtly.

  “You should be,” said Lucifer. “You need somebody to take control of things. The Mundane Plane is completely out of control.”

  “Out of control, is it?” said Cravutius, smiling slightly. “Actually, my impression is that things are progressing quite nicely. It’s true that we’ve had some setbacks of late, but let me ask you this, Lucifer: are you familiar with an Uzzite named Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.”

  “Job!” exclaimed Lucifer, resisting the urge to cackle with glee. He knew he could provoke them into bringing up Job. “Of course Job fears God and shuns evil. He’s got angels making sure he never so much as stubs a toe. You make sure all of his plans work out, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. Take away all that stuff, and I guarantee that he will curse God.”

  The committee broke into a buzz of urgent whispering. Lucifer stroked his chin to cover a smile. He had them right where he wanted them. If they admitted that Job’s obedience was conditional, then they would be conceding that the so-called “Divine Plan” was working so well only because they were sheltering Job from the realities of the world. His success would be replicable by others only to the extent that they too were exempted from the unpredictable vicissitudes of life.

  “It’s a classic problem, symptomatic of poor management,” Lucifer said, leaning back in his chair. “Your solution isn’t scalable.”

  “We’re getting off track,” said a committee member, a red-haired seraph. “What does any of this have to do with Michael?”

  “Well,” said Lucifer. “I abducted Michelle as a form of protest against the poor management of the Mundane Plane. I don’t have anything against her personally, and I’d be happy to release her if I felt that my concerns were being taken seriously.”

  “Go on,” said Cravutius.

  “If you think Job’s prosperity gospel is going to succeed on a large scale, then why not put it to the test? Make sure you work out any flaws before you’ve got a thousand other Jobs out there using the same philosophy.”

  “And how do you suggest we do that?” asked the red-haired seraph.

  “Remove Job’s special angelic protection. Let him experience a few setbacks and see if he sticks to his principles. If you can demonstrate that Job’s loyalty isn’t dependent on his good fortune, I’ll give you back Michelle.”

  There was some bickering among the committee members, but eventually they agreed. “You are not to touch a hair on Job’s head, though,” said Cravutius sternly.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Lucifer innocently.

  Lucifer lost no time in making Job’s life miserable.

  One of the main advantages that evil has in the eternal struggle between good and evil is the lack of imagination of those on the side of good. When Cravutius and his committee agreed to withhold angelic protection from Job, they had in mind that Job would occasionally lose a sheep to chlamydia or step in a pile of camel dung. What they failed to realize was that by promising not to allow Heavenly agents anywhere near Job, they were giving Lucifer free reign to fuck with Job at his leisure. And fuck with him he did.

  He started by convincing the leader of a nearby tribe that Job had stolen some of their oxen. While Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were grazing nearby, and the Sabeans attacked and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

  While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The fire of God fell from the heavens and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”6

  While that messenger was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three raiding parties and swept down on your camels and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

  While the third man was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

  Job waited a moment to make sure that no one else was coming. When it was clear that the entirety of the bad news had been delivered, Job got up from his chair. “Well,” he said. “Despite the fact that you all keep interrupting each other, I think I have the gist of the situation. I’m pretty well fucked, is that it?”

  The four luckiest servants in all of Uz nodded their heads in solemn agreement.

  Job dismissed the servants, who went looking for a card game.

  Lucifer, meanwhile, waited outside Job’s window so he could hear Job when he cursed God.

  Job tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised.”

  This was not the reaction Lucifer was hoping for. A few days later he met again with the Committee.

  Cravutius said to Lucifer, “Where have you come from?”

  “Oh, you know,” said Lucifer, concealing his disappointment. “From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.”

  “Asshole,” muttered the red-haired seraph.

  The committee charged Lucifer with excessively tormenting Job. Lucifer pointed out, however, that he had abided by the letter of their agreement. “Not only that,” Lucifer went on, “but you still haven’t proven that Job’s love for God is unconditional.”

  “What?” demanded Cravutius. “You took everything from him, and still he praises God! We demand that you release the archangel Michelle at once!”

  Lucifer shook his head. “What are a few sheep to a man like Job? As long as he has his health, he’s perfectly content. Let me give him some nasty skin disease, and we’ll see his true colors.”

  There was muttering among the committee members.

  “Very well, then,” said Cravutius. “He is in your hands, but you must spare his life.”

  So Lucifer afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.

  His wife said to him, “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”

  “Wow, nice bedside manner,” Job replied. “Sorry if my oozing sores
are bringing you down.”

  His wife folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip at him.

  “Oh, honey,” said Job. “I’m sorry. I’ve hurt your feelings. Look, all I’m saying is this: sometimes God gives us good, and sometimes He gives us trouble. We just have to accept it. Hey, can you get this one on my lower back? It’s driving me bonkers.”

  His wife shook her head and walked away, leaving Job to suffer alone.

  SEVEN

  Eddie sat in his hotel room in the dark. The lights were off and the shades were drawn.

  Cody Lang was dead.

  Eddie had done his best to save her, but she had slipped away after muttering her last words. “Pull the switch.” Whatever that meant. He had set her body in the pit and caused the walls of the shaft to collapse on top of her. The daughter buried in her father’s grave. He hoped the authorities would let her rest in peace.

  What was he supposed to do now? Cody said he was supposed to finish his story, that he was supposed to write the final Charlie Nyx book after all. That it ended with something called Wormwood. But what the hell was that?

  After Cody’s heart stopped, Eddie had searched the area, trying to figure out where the bullet had come from. His best guess was that the shooter had been on the roof of one of the buildings across the street, but he found no clues of any kind. The assassin was long gone. Who would want Cody dead? Presumably someone who didn’t want her talking about whatever it was she had discovered. Something about Wormwood.

  There was a knock on his door. Housekeeping?

  “Go away!” yelled Eddie.

  Another knock.

  “I said, go away!”

  “It’s destiny, Eddie,” said an all-too-familiar voice. “Are you going to let destiny languish in the hall?”

  “Go away, Culain! Or Cain, or whatever your name is!” Cain was the last person Eddie wanted to see. Eddie wondered if he knew about Cody. No, of course not. How could he? She had been dead for less than an hour. Eddie had been the last person she saw.