Cookbook from Hell Reheated

by M. L. Buchman

  “West Heaven?” Michelle had never heard of it. “That’s awfully far from here.”

  “I had to ask it what an acceptable decibel level was for a Heavenly choir.”

  “Don’t pout dear. I only want to tell you angels a few new rules, without calling in the whole herd.”

  “Rules are good,” Henrietta nodded her head fiercely. “We like rules.”

  “First, no more of this polling nonsense.”

  “But…”

  Michelle held up a finger as big as one of Henrietta’s arms. She fluttered her wings, but remained silent.

  “Reality has to be stable for a while to give us time to straighten things out. Do it. Now. And set everything back to the way it was before you started all this nonsense.”

  “That’ll take some time.”

  “Don’t quibble. Get it started.”

  “Okay. Okay. Don’t get all huffy.” She clapped her hands together with roughly the volume of a popcorn kernel popping.

  Nothing happened, even after she tried it again.

  “Oh dear. Do you happen to have a computer console?”

  “They’re all dead.” Michelle pointed at the keypad and dark display screen.

  Henrietta fluttered over to the terminal beside the throne and settled in front of the keyboard. She knelt and leaned over to punch in a sequence by smacking the side of her fist down on each key.

  Michelle was impressed to see commands start flowing up the screen, most of which she didn’t recognize.

  “The angels’ subroutine access is still running. The software never cared about it much once it was written and we’ve had to take care of it ourselves. When it departed, it couldn’t be bothered to take our set of code with it.” Henrietta pounded in a few more commands and sat back, “It’s done. All our hard work. Gone. I hope you’re happy.”

  Well, it was a start. Michelle turned to Valerie, “Any other ideas?”

  Valerie blinked at her several times before speaking, “Like what?”

  “If I knew that I wouldn’t have asked. Anything at all.”

  “Does Henrietta’s cleanup make the universe any more stable?”

  Michelle bit her lip wishing she had a different answer. “More tolerable, yes. More stable, no. That would require something more universal.”

  Valerie leaned her head against the back of the chair and looked up at the translucent ceiling. She looked exhausted. “Something more universal. You know, Peter had mentioned that your software and the Buddha’s were vastly different. I think he was wrong.”

  “What do you mean? Purgatory, Heaven, and Hell have no relation to the Wheel of Life and the Eightfold Path to Enlightenment.” Michelle shifted again. Henrietta was gone. She leaned forward and saw her sliding down the front leg of the throne.

  “Get back here, I’m not through yet.”

  The angel began to shimmy back up the leg, with soft grunts and groans but very little progress.

  Valerie leaned over and lifted her onto the chair arm, “Michelle’s questions make my wings ache too sometimes.”

  The mortal clearly had more compassion than sense at the moment. Valerie didn’t lean back in the chair, but slouched with fatigue as she spoke.

  “You’re right. The two religious softwares behave very differently, but I think you’re too close to it. The two systems have a great deal in common. The Buddhist Wheel is much like your Hell in some ways. They’re both intended to teach lessons. If there is one common universal truth: Western religions would say, ‘Do unto others as you have them do unto you.’ The Koran says something about how Allah loves those who do good unto others. Buddhist talk about karma. That all seems pretty similar to me. I have no idea how it will help, but there it is.”

  Michelle scowled briefly at Henrietta who held up her palms to show that she wasn’t going anywhere. Michelle rose and walked to the edge of the dais to survey the wreckage of the throne room. There were still several dark spots on the floor that had been pools of someone’s blood, now they were simply dried stains. They had certainly done unto each other here. But how to apply it more sanely was the question.

  She turned slowly. Valerie was looking down, playing with the ends of her hair. She could feel a great weight lift as it became clear.

  “Henrietta,” the angel jumped at the sound of her voice. “Heaven is going to be very simple for a while. There is only one other rule until Peter gets back…or I change my mind.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Henrietta perked up instantly looking happy for the first time. “We like it when things are plain. We angels are pretty simple folks, after all. You know at an angel’s picnic we even once…”

  Michelle tried to keep the edge out of her voice, “The rule is: If it doesn’t hurt anyone, let them do it. And no pestering everyone to find out if it’ll hurt them or not.”

  “But…but, how will we know?” she looked pitiful with her little wings drooping down to her waist.

  “Cherish the obvious, Henrietta. It’s an old saying of Jesus. Cherish the obvious. If an idea sounds stupid, it probably is. If it’s something that you wouldn’t want done to you, don’t let them do it to others.”

  “Okay, we’ll try,” she didn’t looking very happy, “But we won’t like it.”

  It was the best Michelle could think of under the circumstances. Henrietta waved her hand to one side.

  “Yes, you can go.”

  Henrietta disappeared with a sad-sounding pop.

  Valerie looked at her with hope in her eyes, “You think they can cherish the obvious, or even recognize it when it comes around?”

  “Honestly, I doubt if they can, but it will make Heaven much more livable and it will keep them out of trouble.” She walked over and looked down at the keypad. After several tries she managed to call up a performance report. The effect had been immediate and the curve of decay had slowed, but not by much. She looked up to see Valerie watching her, “It’s a little better, but it’s not great. All this may have bought us an extra day, maybe only a half day. The end is imminent.”

  She nodded before bowing her head again and curling the ends of hair around her finger.

  Michelle looked once more at the shambles of Heaven’s throne room, “I have a suggestion.”

  Valerie didn’t respond.

  Michelle kicked some of the debris off the platform, “There’s nothing else I can do here. I want to go home, if I can. I’d like to spend my remaining time with Plato before it all comes to an end. You can either come with me or I’ll try to get you back to your apartment.”

  She found a rag and wiped off the throne where some of the dust from the destroyed statues had accumulated. Not knowing what else to do with it she threw it down the steps with the rest of the disaster. Now there was no one to set it right.

  She could barely hear Valerie’s whisper after the long silence.

  “I think I’ll go home.” There was another long silence, “I wish Peter and Eric would find that stupid program.”

  Michelle couldn’t agree more, it was their only chance.

  DAY SIX

  So God created man in his own image,

  in the image of God created he him;

  male and female created he them.

  Chapter 38

  Eric couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked at Peter, “Oh man, we’re all the way back to being mice.” The dull gray glow of the heavily overcast sky barely reached through the long row of windows and it did little to improve the gray control room they had arrived in.

  “Damn it! Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “Yes, you did, Peter.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. DAMN IT! Maybe we need to give up on this idea.”

  “Let’s hang on for a few more. Though if we have to be rabid dogs again…there goes Ron,” Eric waved his forepaw at a
mouse scampering across the decking in front of them with a large orange tabby in hot pursuit.

  “Get him, Ginger,” someone called out.

  Eric looked around in time to be drenched by root beer splashing out of a can the man was waving about. Eric realized they were on the bridge of some ship and a crew member was egging the cat on, “At least something is going right with this god-forsaken pitiful excuse for a boat.”

  “Bosun,” a tall, slender man in an officer’s uniform stood at the entry door to the bridge.

  “Sorry, Sir, but we got mice, and the software is still acting up.”

  “Acting up? Fill me in. This is my first voyage on this particular boat.”

  Peter looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Eric couldn’t imagine why. He stayed cowered back in the corner and tried to clean his sticky fur as Ron and Ginger went zipping by again.

  “Yes, sir. When these here boats were built, Washington State decided on a computer control system from a small pissant, sorry sir, local company. They totally screwed up the works and then had the indecency to go bankrupt before we could keelhaul the bastards.”

  Ron managed to avoid Ginger on the next pass by making a sudden turn between the bosun’s feet. Ginger dug into the slippery deck with her claws trying to make the turn and slammed into the bosun’s ankle.

  “God damn, Ginger. Just kill the thing.” The bosun spilled the last of his soda on the first mate, “Sorry, sir. Where was I? Oh. These ferries would go into full forward instead of full astern like they was supposed to during docking. They destroyed like half the docking piers in the whole system. One time a ferry went from idle forward to full reverse during loading. Some poor sucker thought he was driving onto the ferry and ended up in Elliot Bay. The thing that gets me is they worked out all the bugs when they replaced the computers years ago. It’s like this one ferry has been re-jinxed all week.”

  Peter gave Eric a sharp nudge.

  “What?”

  “Listen.” He had been listening, for Ron and Ginger. He didn’t really see why the history of the Seattle ferry system was of any interest. Everyone who’d spent the ‘80s and ‘90s in Seattle knew these stories.

  There was a loud squeak from the corner, “Ginger’s caught Ron. Here we go again.”

  Peter called out, “Buddhist control software, please.”

  Eric hunkered down expecting his shout to attract Ginger.

  Yes, Peter? What can I do for you, my mouse?

  “Could you leave us here for a bit and still keep track of where Ron goes?”

  Done, o’ squeaking one.

  “Thanks, I’ll call soon.”

  Eric turned his attention to the conversation, but kept one ear out for the cat. She must still be around the corner eating Ron. He took a deep breath to try and settle his stomach. He couldn’t imagine what the twisted software had been trying to teach him, by killing him with a cat. Respect a superior force maybe.

  The first mate was now sitting in front of the computer console, “I used to be pretty good with systems. Let me have a look see.”

  “You’re welcome to, sir. The last technician told me it was possessed. It’s disconnected now, we’ve fallen back to a phone link with the engine room. It’s pretty ugly.”

  “What if I damage the installation? Do we have an extra copy?”

  “Can’t damage it no worse than it is, but here’s a backup I took this morning,” the bosun pointed at a USB external drive.

  “This is it, Peter,” his voice squeaked with excitement.

  “Forge ahead, sir,” the bosun leaned in over the first mate’s shoulder.

  Peter leaned against him and whispered in his ear, “You grab the drive and I’ll clear their system.”

  “What do I do with it once I grab it? It’s as big as I am.”

  “Sink your teeth into a corner and start dragging. I’ll take a quick run over the keyboard and scream for a bailout.”

  “Oh, brother. This had better work.”

  Peter started to run forward, but Eric grabbed his tail and pulled him back.

  “What? I thought we had a plan.”

  “I didn’t trust the software, so I put a password lock on it just before Ron stole it. That would explain why he couldn’t do anything with it.”

  “Right. What is it?”

  Eric opened his mouth and closed it. He could feel his whiskers twitch and hoped Peter couldn’t see him blush through the fur on his face.

  “Hurry, Eric. What is it?”

  He took a deep breath and looked at the floor, “It’s E-E-V-M with no spaces. Eric Erikson and, well, Valerie, you know. Together sort of.”

  Peter laughed, “That’s great. It’s a good thing you didn’t forget that.”

  Eric returned his smile, “Yes, I guess it is. Let’s go.”

  Eric ran over and jumped onto the bosun’s pant leg as Peter started to run up the first mate’s.

  “Shit. Ginger. Get over here.”

  The bosun took a few futile swings with his empty can which Eric was able to dodge easily as he leapt to the counter.

  “Up here,” the bosun scooped Ginger and tossed her toward Eric on the control console.

  He bit firmly on the drive’s casing. He avoided Ginger’s first swing, but had to jump off the counter to avoid her second one. He gave a quick twist and landed on all fours. The drive had slipped loose, but thankfully it too tumbled toward the floor. It hit him with a sharp crack on the nose.

  “Shit. Feels like it boke my dose,” he started to laugh despite the pain as he dragged the drive toward a corner under the edge of a cupboard.

  Ginger leapt down after him.

  “What will Valewie say when Ewic de mouse comes bak wid a boken dose?”

  # # #

  Eric set the external drive up as a barricade across his hiding corner beneath the edge of the cabinet. Ginger slowed, thinking her prey was now assured. Eric kept most of his attention on the feline towering before him, but he also kept an eye on Peter.

  In the confusion, Peter began a quick, four-footed dance over the keyboard. The bosun and first mate were paying attention to the cat. Peter leaped high and landed with all fours on the Enter key. It looked like it didn’t budge.

  On the floor, the cat smacked the front of the drive shoving Eric hard against the corner.

  “Peter!” he squeaked out in alarm.

  “Hang on. The key is stuck. That stupid bosun must have dumped a whole can of root beer on the keyboard.” Peter ran up the first mate’s arm, reached his shoulder, and launched himself onto the keyboard.

  The first mate’s gaze swung back to the keyboard from watching Ginger.

  “What in Heaven…?”

  Peter landed squarely on the Enter key. The bosun was intent on Ginger and Eric. He must not have heard the first mate. The key clicked home. The screen flashed several times distracting the first mate long enough for Peter to jump onto his knee and slide down his pant’s leg headed for the floor.

  “System software,” Peter squeaked as loudly as he could.

  That distracted Ginger from what was probably a killing blow.

  “Get us the heck out of here,” Peter shouted as he ran across the decking and bit on Ginger’s tail as hard as he could.

  Her yowl hurt Eric’s ears and caused the bosun to stomp down with a boot, barely missing Peter and scaring the daylights out of the cat.

  Peter jumped over the drive and into the corner, landing hard on top of Eric and smacking his throbbing nose into the decking.

  Eric peeked over the drive to see a very upset Ginger turning back to them.

  “And don’t forget the drive,” he yelled out to the software.

  The bosun and first mate were looking at the screen as it blinked one more time before displaying the main menu.

  Lesson: ca
me the whisper in his ear even as the bosun shouted with joy. Right Endeavor.

  “You fixed it, Sir. Boy, I can’t wait to stuff this one in the face of all those overpaid desk jockeys. Well done, Sir. Well done… You don’t look well, Sir. Can I get you a root beer?”

  # # #

  Eric and Peter sat in Heaven. Eric’s nose was still sore, but not broken. The software had sent them straight to Heaven. It had taken Peter a bit to find an interface cable for the USB drive, but he’d finally scrounged one up.

  Together they watched the messages scrolling up the screen.

  Reloading software.

  Reinitializing Systems.

  Good Lord! You’ve made a complete shambles of everything while I was gone. You expect me to be able to fix a disaster like this? That is waaay beyond reasonable. There are over 1.3 million souls that have been misallocated. I don’t know why I put up with any of you. I don’t even get overtime pay for dealing with this crap. There is no way I’m going to…

  They shook hands, both too exhausted to do more.

  A couple keystrokes and Eric was on his way back to Seattle.

  Chapter 39

  Valerie closed her apartment door, latched the chain, and leaned heavily against it. It had taken hours to get from Heaven to here, but she was home. Hopefully the system had held together long enough for Michelle to get home and reach Plato.

  Home. This adventure had become too much for her. She’d wait for Eric, or the end of it all, here. She was almost too tired to care which it was.

  No, that was a lie. If only he could finish and come home. She’d try the apology she’d been practicing and see how he reacted. The Buddhist Software’s last message as she and Michelle were leaving Heaven had been less than informative, Elephants at the Seattle Zoo. Lesson: Right Speech. Hadn’t they already had that lesson like a dozen times? How slow a learner was this Hungry Ghost?

  A hot shower and sleep, if she could get any, would help the time pass. She dropped her clothes on the floor on her way to the bathroom, too weary to put them away. Next to the last few days, dirty clothes on the floor was nothing.