about the nun?” Satan asked.
“Yours is not to question the will of God,” Gabriel said. “It is enough that He wants it done. So you do it. Or you should have done it. But it’s too late now. Now you have to come up here and we have to sit down and have A Very Serious Talk.”
“But – ” Satan started.
“Get up here,” Gabriel said. “Now.”
And he hung up.
“Come on,” Satan said to Mary. “That was Gabriel. We’ve got to go back to Heaven.”
Carson leapt at the opportunity.
“Would you like one of our toasty subs for the ride.”
But Satan and Sister Mary were already gone. Neither of them heard a word she said.
The ride back up to Heaven felt even longer than the ride down, but that was just an illusion. It was actually exactly the same length: interminable. Satan and Sister Mary stood on opposite sides of the car and ignored each other. Finally, Sister Mary spoke.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“Okay.”
“You keep telling me all these things about Heaven, the House of My Lord God, my strength and my redeemer, but you are the crooked serpent. The Enemy of Mankind.”
“Whatever you say,” Satan said.
“You long to lead His people away from the love of God.”
“Not really,” Satan said.
“You think your honeyed words will poison my heart.”
“I don’t care,” Satan said.
“Of course that’s what you want me to think so that I will lower my guard and you can claim my soul as your own, Antichrist.”
“I’m really not that interested in your soul,” Satan said. “You know what a soul represents to me? A bunch of paperwork. I can’t do anything with a soul. I can’t trade it in for prizes, I can’t burn it for fuel, they’re not pretty to look at, and they’re not that interesting.”
“Your whisperings will not sway me.”
“I’m not trying to sway you.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m not,” Satan said.
“It’s okay,” Sister Mary said. “It’s in your nature to lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
Sister Mary gave a knowing chuckle.
“Cut that out,” Satan said. “It’s creepy.”
“Old Serpent, I am deaf to your murmurings. Your evil words fall on stony ground. I am strong in Christ and nothing you do can claim me for your own.”
“You know what?” Satan said. “Let’s just not talk to each other for the rest of the ride.
And they didn’t.
In Heaven’s Lobby, Satan speed walked to one of Saint Peter’s desks. It didn’t matter which one. Saint Peter was at all the desks at once in this room. It was a kind of limited omnipresence. The air smelt of freshly washed babies.
“Finally!” Saint Peter said. “What did you do? Stop off at Dillard’s to buy uglier clothes.”
He buzzed open the security gate.
“Quick, quick, quick. As fast as your fat little legs can carry you.”
Satan pulled Sister Mary through. She jerked her arm out of his grasp but followed him to an electric cart parked near the exit.
“Primum Mobile Wing,” Saint Peter said, and Satan sat down. Mary took a seat far enough away that her habit wouldn’t touch his cursed flesh and the cart zipped off through the forgettable halls, mile after mile of gray carpet unrolling beneath its bouncy rubber wheels. Sister Mary couldn’t help but notice that the soul who drove the cart wore a shapeless brown tunic.
“Of course,” she thought to herself. “A pinch of truth makes the Prince of Hell’s lies easier to swallow.”
But as the electric cart surged down the unending corridors of Heaven she noticed that souls wearing brown tunics were everywhere: emptying trashcans, polishing doorknobs, dusting picture frames, changing light bulbs. As the electric cart hummed past she studied their postures and facial expressions and tried to determine if they were joyful here in the house of their Lord, if their steps were lighter and their burdens less burdensome here in the presence of their Heavenly Father. They were doing janitorial work, but perhaps in Heaven their labor was a form of joyful worship?
She tried to see joy in the way they pushed their dust mops, in the way they emptied garbage cans, and if she squinted she could imagine that they were on the verge of breaking into hymns of praise. But if she didn’t squint they looked like any other minimum wage workers, cleaning up other people’s messes and dusting someone else’s house. John 14:2 sounded in her mind:
“In my Father’s house there are many rooms,” she thought to herself.
And then, unbidden, a cynical addition, “And all of them need to be vacuumed.”
The corridor smelt