Fall; or, Dodge in Hell - Neal Stephenson Page 0,186

that were of no use to him. Or perhaps those forms had been latent within him all along, and were only now being roused to wakefulness.

Like things must have been going on in the bodies of all the souls in Town who had consumed honey.

He told the others to pick the remainder of the apples and bring them in baskets after him. Then he took wing and flew down the Street toward Town. As he drew near, a new fragrance came into his nostrils. It was not one that he loved, but neither could he identify its source. He looped around the Park and saw many souls gathered about the tower in its center, trying to find a way in. Their purpose was clear: they had heard from the killers of the bees about the desirability of honey and craved it now. The bees, sensing that they were under attack, had issued from the small portals in the tower’s sides and were stinging souls and being squashed.

Egdod beat his wings mightily as he settled to a perch on the tower’s top. The blast of air dispersed the swarms of bees and sent many of the souls reeling, or knocked them flat to the ground. The odor he had noticed was stronger here. He saw a soul not far away who had adopted a curious pose, squatting on his haunches with his hindquarters only a small distance above the grass. A jet of brown fluid emerged from him and stained the ground below, and Egdod knew that this was the source of the bad smell. And he understood where it had come from.

“From ones who have eaten honey, some of you have heard tell of the pleasures to be gained thereby,” Egdod announced, making his voice very loud. “I say to you that there is truth in it, and that to enjoy such pleasures is in all of us. But to steal it from the bees is to introduce a kind of wrongness to the Land that goes against all of the past efforts that I have made to better it. It is in the bees’ nature to require honey, but it is not in yours. There is however another means of getting food, which does not entail the crushing of bees, or taking from those that have a requirement for food above mere self-pleasuring. The fruits of it are winging your way even now from the Garden.” And he extended a hand toward the Palace. The souls turned their heads that way to see Ward, Freewander, Speaksall, Thingor, Longregard, Greyhame, and Knotweave flying toward them heavily laden with baskets.

“Of the apple tree in my Garden you shall eat, if eat you must,” Egdod proclaimed. “The bees you shall not molest. Rather, look to the bees as models to shape your own way of doing things in the future.”

Thus the bees of the tower were saved by the actions of Egdod, and the souls of Town enjoyed a feast of apples, and knew what it was to taste and to eat. Later they knew too what it was to shit. Those souls who had strong arms for delving went to work digging holes for that purpose, and up on the top of the hill Egdod fashioned some holes that were very deep indeed, so that the odor of the shit would not trouble his nostrils as he enjoyed the beauty of the Garden.

35

Winter came then. Egdod felt the cold in a way he had not before and began spending more time inside the Palace. Flying over the Town, quiet under the snows, he saw very few souls about and knew that they were feeling the cold as well. This, he came to understand, was all because they had eaten. To consume food brought pleasure but also made the body liable to less agreeable sensations. Egdod, who could alter the world in any way that suited him, could surround himself with a cloak of warm air if he so chose, and protect himself from it in a way that other souls could not. He had Town all to himself as its souls huddled together in their houses. Knotweave had shown them the art of making blankets that they could draw about themselves for greater warmth.

Walking past one small house Egdod heard two souls inside of it making loud vocalizations that were not quite words. He gazed into the window and saw two souls wrapped up in each other’s auras.

“They are giving pleasure