Norton shrugged, not trying to grasp that, and put the disk in his pocket. "Will it still work in that shape? I mean, if I will the sand to change color—?"
"It should. Your contact with it can never be severed, as I said, so it should respond to your directive."
"Anything else I should do?"
"I do have a few glitches to correct. I spin my threads carefully, but nothing in this cosmos is perfect, and sometimes they unravel. If you are ready to assume the harness, we can tackle them now."
"Just tell me what to do."
She conjured a tiny notebook from the air and riffled through the pages. "This one will do. Two threads got crossed, so that each person will experience the fate of the other. Since one is scheduled to suffer a grievous accident soon, that is an error of consequence." She closed the notebook and it vanished. Then she put her two hands together, fingers extended and splayed, and drew them apart. Several scintillating threads stretched between them. "Take me back to where they cross," she said.
"Wait! You said one person must suffer a grievous accident! Why allow that to happen? Why not make both threads smooth, both lives pleasant?"
She shook her head. "That is not the way the cosmos operates, Norton. We do not live in a simple or peaceful universe. The eddy currents of violence swirl constantly, and consequence follows consequence. If I attempted to simplify this particular life—which I could indeed accomplish—it would only lead to a greater mischief for other lives. God and Satan are at war—have been since time began—and the fallout from their strife is with us always. It is not for me to dictate on whom that fallout shall fall; it is only for me to mesh it properly. I am the servant, not the master—and so are you. We both must do what we must do, implementing the rules that exist."
Norton did not agree with that at all, but realized that he lacked a basis from which to argue. So he dropped it for the time being.
He peered at the threads she held between her spread fingers. Most went from finger to finger, but two were crossed. "How—?"
"This is analogy, of course," she said. "Or a convenient facsimile thereof. If I had the real crossing in my hands, I could unsnarl it here. You must take me to the actual space-time site."
"Yes, but—"
"Oh, I keep forgetting! You've never done this before. Very well—I will talk you through it, step by step. First orient your Glass."
"This?" Norton brought out the Hourglass and drew it back into shape. It remained functioning perfectly; the sand was still falling, and more of it had accumulated in the nether chamber.
"Yes, that. Expand its ambience to include me. You can tell by the brightness."
Confused, Norton willed the Hourglass: Expand ambience.
The glow intensified. Lachesis brightened, literally; she glowed like the Glass. "That's enough, Chronos. Ease off a little; you don't want to take your entire mansion with you."
He diminished his thought and the glow faded slightly.
"That's good. Hold it there. Now turn the sand blue—but only slightly, only briefly. We're going back just a little way."
He concentrated, and the sand shifted color, turning faintly blue.
"Now travel along the threads till we come to the crossing."
"How—?"
"Oops! Too far. Back up a bit."
He turned the sand ever so faintly pink. Suddenly he saw the threads between her fingers expand, perhaps in his mind's eye, until they were veritable cables. The Hourglass seemed to have become a cable car, cruising along the cables, carrying Norton and Lachesis with it. In the distance Norton could see other cables, extending from horizon to horizon. Then another cable closed with the first, and the two touched.
He concentrated, fading the pink almost to white, and the Hourglass coasted to a halt just at the crossing.
"Excellent," Lachesis said. "You're developing the touch already! Soon you'll be the expert I remember." She stepped forward, put her two hands on the cables, and lifted them apart. Norton was amazed by two things: first, her ability to separate such monstrous and solid cables so readily; and second, the fact that he knew these cables were mere threads stretched between her fingers. How could she do any of this?
"That's it," she said, returning. "You may revert us to normal now."
Norton relaxed—and abruptly the cables were gone and the two of them were back in the mansion in Purgatory. "That was it?" he asked dazedly.
"Yes. You did very well." She glanced at him appraisingly. "But I think this is enough for you now. Relax, explore your mansion, get acquainted with your household staff. I will return tomorrow, your time, so that we can wrap up the other snarls; none of them are as critical as this one was."
His tomorrow—her yesterday! "But I don't—"
"You'll find out." She changed form again, becoming a large spider. The spider shrank to normal spider size, ascended a thread, and disappeared. He realized that this was the type of thread he had taken to be a string when she brought him here from the empty lot. She traveled by threads.
Norton was alone again. He still had only the faintest notion of what he was supposed to do.
Chapter 6 - SATAN
As it turned out, he had no trouble. The household staff was well trained and polite and ready for the changeover. Indeed, they acted as if they had been working for Norton himself for a long time. Lachesis had said time flowed backward here, which meant these people should be from the world's future, but now he wasn't so sure.
As soon as Norton stirred, the head butler made an appearance, ready to handle any emergency discreetly. Norton was treated to an excellent meal served by a pretty maid and shown the complete premises. Much more quickly than he expected, he felt at home. It was somewhat like staying at a good hotel, and somewhat like living at Gawain's estate.
Gawain's estate—where Orlene had been with him. Suddenly this was less enjoyable.
He learned that all these personnel were souls in Purgatory, here because they had been in perfect balance when they died. It was not a bad afterlife for them and not a good one. By definition, it was in between. Eventually, if they served well, they would graduate to Heaven—but it took much longer to accomplish this in Purgatory than it would have in life. Life was intense and leveraged, he remembered; the Afterlife was diffuse and relatively calm. At least this was the case in Purgatory; Norton could glean no information on what went on in Heaven or Hell. All he knew was that every soul wanted to go to the former, and no soul to the latter.
He was relaxing in the afternoon—day and night seemed to follow the normal course here, though he suspected this was artificially arranged—watching the holo unit—which was filled with news about the changeover in the office of Chronos—when he had a visitor.
"Who?" he asked the butler, not believing the announcement.
"Satan, sir," the man repeated calmly.
"I have no business with the Devil!"
"Shall I inform him you are indisposed, sir?"
But already curiosity was mixing with awe and horror. "I—can he do anything to me here?"
"No, sir. One Incarnation can not interfere with another without the other's consent, here or anywhere. Incarnations are inviolate, especially when in uniform."
"Uniform?"
"Your cloak, sir. It is a barrier of time, acting automatically against any physical threat."
Norton sighed. "Then I suppose I'd better find out what he wants. Show him in." One day ago he would have scoffed at the notion of meeting the Incarnation of Evil!
Satan was ushered in. "The Prince of Evil, Father of Lies, my Lord Satan," the butler announced formally without a trace of disrespect. These were the Devil's legitimate titles.
Norton had been braced for a demon creature with horns and a forked tail. He was disappointed. Satan was a perfectly ordinary-looking middle-aged man in a conservative, dark red business suit. His hair was reddish brown, neatly trimmed and combed. He was clean-shaven. There was no trace of fire in his complexion. His gaze was b
land, and he had a faint atmosphere of some masculine fragrance.
Satan stepped briskly forward and extended his hand. Norton saw no convenient way to avoid it, so he shook hands. Satan's fingers were firm and warm, but by no means hot. There was nothing to indicate any infernal association.
"Uh, to what do I owe the, uh, honor of this visit?"
"Oh, this is merely a social call," Satan said with a winning smile. His teeth were white and even. "You are new to this office, so I thought I'd be neighborly and offer any assistance you may require."
Norton frowned as they sat down. "I am new here, true. Perhaps I misunderstand. I thought you would not be interested in—in helping anyone else."
Satan laughed. The sound was wholesome and warm. "My dear Chronos—I am an Incarnation, like yourself! Each of us has his duty, and it behooves us to cooperate with one another. We have a common interest in order."
"I thought—I do not mean to be offensive—that you opposed order." Norton remembered the nefarious reputation of the Prince of Evil, the origin of all mischief.
Satan made a gesture of bafflement. "Me? Oppose order? By no means! I support order; in fact, I would prefer to have more of it." He smiled again, magnetically. "Perhaps I differ slightly with God as to which one of Us should govern; but apart from that detail. Our designs are similar."
Against his will and better judgment, Norton found himself warming to this affable entity. "Well, in fairness I have to say that I do not side with you."
"And why should you, Chronos? No one in his right mind wants to go to Hell! I would go to Heaven Myself, were it feasible."
Norton had to smile. Satan's humor was infectious. "You don't like Hell? Why do you stay there, then?"
"Because I have a job to do, sir! Who else would assume My office, if I were to desert My post?"
Who, indeed! "Is it a necessary office? Why not just let Good predominate?"
Satan shook his head sadly. "Alas, the human condition does not permit. There is both good and evil in every person, and so there have to be final repositories for those aspects in the Afterlife. Without good and evil, free will would be meaningless and life would be pointless. Each person must choose his fate by how he lives, thereby defining his fundamental nature. Naturally the average person hates and fears the consequence of the evil in himself. If he did not, he would never make progress into good. But the flesh is fallible, and each person is also sorely tempted by the immediate benefits of the exercise of evil. Only in the course of life can his true direction be determined. Every person professes to love good and hate evil, but in his actions his real preference emerges. It is a most interesting study." He shrugged. "But I did not come here to bore you with shop talk, Chronos. How may I help you?"
"I'm not sure there is any need," Norton said, impressed by Satan's discussion without trusting his motive. "Lachesis has been helping me."
"Of course she would," Satan agreed readily. "She is absolutely dependent on your service. I am sure she will make you most welcome, in one aspect or another." He made a small gesture with his two hands that might have suggested the Hourglass, but surely did not.
Norton remained uncomfortable with his visitor. He was sure Satan had an ulterior motive. But there was no point in antagonizing so powerful an entity. So he continued to make conversation, wishing Satan would either get to the point or leave.
"We must all do the best we can in our offices," Satan continued blithely. His capitals and no capitals could actually be heard; he did not use them for Incarnations as a class, even when he was included in their number. "We are all, in fact, artists, shaping our duties into monuments of accomplishment. I am always pleased when I am successful in extirpating the evil from a soul that would otherwise have been lost. That is, of course, what we do in Hell; we travel the avenues of last resort in dealing with the intransigent cases."
"Uh, no doubt," Norton agreed uncomfortably. He was aware that Satan was proselytizing; what bothered him was the fact that the arguments seemed to make sense.
"I understand you lost a loved one," Satan said sympathetically.
"She's in Heaven now," Norton said. He didn't want to discuss Orlene with Satan, either. He felt that Satan's attention would somehow sully her memory.
"I trust you are aware you do not have to be alone," Satan remarked. "Here in Purgatory there are many souls, male and female, and all are eager to improve their balance by serving the Incarnations. Allow Me to demonstrate the possibilities."
"No need," Norton said quickly.
"No problem, sir. Just let Me summon your downstairs maid—" Satan snapped his fingers, and suddenly the maid was there, dust cloth in hand, her hair bound in a kerchief. She looked startled. "No, no, that outfit will never do," Satan said in the manner of a kindly uncle. Abruptly her clothing changed, and she was garbed in a fetching evening gown. She was considerably more shapely than Norton had realized. "Oh, yes, the hair," Satan said, and the kerchief was replaced by a tiara studded with flashing diamonds. "Maid, would you like to serve your master in a more personal capacity?"
The girl looked down at her lovely outfit and touched her shining hair. "Anything my master wishes," she agreed.
"Look, I have no desire for—" Norton protested, though he was privately intrigued by this exploration.
"Oh, my, I nearly forgot," Satan said. "Of course you don't want the aspect of a stranger, for you are not a promiscuous man these days." And the maid changed form and became the precise likeness of Orlene in her most vibrant health.
Startled, Norton stared. Orlene had never looked better!
"We can tailor her personality, too," Satan said. "I like My art to be thorough. She can be, in every material and social respect, the object of your interest."
"But—but she's not the one I know!" Satan squinted at him. "In what manner have you known her, other than appearance and personality?"
"I—I just know this one is different!"
"Does it matter? She will serve you equally well. Perhaps better, for she has Eternity to gain by a successful performance." Disconcerted by the perfect likeness and the plausibility of Satan's argument, Norton could only stammer:
"But she isn't—the one I—it's just not the same!"
"Isn't it?" Satan frowned benignly. "It has been said that man does, woman is. Yours is the performance that matters; she needs only to be its object. Try her, Chronos; I'm sure you will be pleased."
"Try her?"
"I am sure you would not wish Me to assault your ears or hers with the vernacular description, especially since the same interaction can be described more precisely in polite language. I am, as I mentioned, at heart an artist; I appreciate the qualities of language. I have little sympathy with prudishness per se, but much with beauty. She can assume another form if you prefer. There is no deception here, only an effort to alleviate discomfort."
"Any form she assumed—I assume would represent damnation for me," Norton said uneasily.
Again Satan flashed his winning smile. "I see you remain cautious. I assure you that damnation is not so readily come by, my dear associate. You will neither rise to Heaven nor sink to Hell until your term in office is done. As an Incarnation, you are largely immune to changes in your status, and what you do or do not do with any willing woman is irrelevant."
"But with a soul in Purgatory, a mere spirit—?"
"All are tangible to one another and to Incarnations here. This is not Earth, where spirits can not freely go."
Norton shook his head. "This is not the type of pleasure I care for."
"Ah, you will get over that soon enough. Ultimately, every living person is dedicated to his own pleasure."
"You're right," Norton said. "I do remain suspicious of your motive. You are seeking to corrupt me, and I'm not sure I can afford to believe anything you say."
"Well, I am rightly called the Father of Lies," Satan said equably. "I do take a certain modest pride in the quality of My artifices, and many mortals find them sufficient.
"
The scoundrel was proud of it! Norton was disgusted. "Well, if that concludes your business here—"
"Almost," Satan said, not rising. He made a trifling gesture, and the maid resumed her own form and scurried from the room.
"So it wasn't just a social visit?"
"There is one minor favor—"
"Why should I do you any favor?"
"Well, it is a very small one, and I am prepared to pay rather well."
Payment for a favor! He had been through that with Gawain! "What can you offer another Incarnation, aside from temptation to mischief?"
Satan studied him, and now his eyes had the same disturbing intensity Norton had noted in the eyes of Fate. "I understand you like to travel, Chronos."
"Yes. I suppose that was the main reason I took this office, so I could travel in time. Once I learn to do it precisely, I'll—" He broke off, not wanting to say too much to the Prince of Evil.
"To see your woman again in life," Satan finished smoothly.
So he couldn't hide this from Satan! Did that mean it was an evil notion? Chilling thought! "What is this favor?"
"Merely to conduct one of My minions on a brief tour."
"Why can't he travel himself? I hardly know my way around Purgatory yet."
"A tour in time. Only you can arrange that."
That was right—he was now the Master of Time. He did not want to do any business with Satan, but he was curious. "To where in time?"
"Just a few years, for a few minutes. He won't do any harm; he'll just talk with a man."
"Just talk? To threaten him?"
Satan shook his head. "My dear Chronos, I do not threaten people! That is counterproductive. This is actually, though I blush to confess it, a good deed."
"A good deed—by the Prince of Evil? How can you expect me to believe that?"
"You can verify it for yourself. There is no secret here; all is open. This man stands to lose the chance of his lifetime. My minion will merely put him on the right track."
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