Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 159.03

“Wait.” Harold held up one hand. “What's so wrong about wanting a little order? Some nice straight lines? An orderly queue? Perhaps some rope marking out an area for people to wait without pushing in.”

“You're asking for order?” Jasfoup's voice was low but devoid of any friendliness, as if every word was a venom filled pustule he had to get out of his mouth as quickly as possible. “This is Hell. We don't do order. Go to Heaven if you want order. Order is straight lines and clean horizons when you're wishing for the sight of a tree in the distance. Order is the absence of speech, the absence of expression, the absence of self. Order is the death of spontaneity, the death of expression, the death of politics. Order is to obey without question.”

“Surely not?”

“You see? You don't want order. You want freedom of expression and the right to be an individual.”

Harold raised his eyebrows. “We're all individuals.”

“I'm not.” This from a small demon with compound eyes.

“You should try Heaven.”

“Is there a phone shop there?”

“Of course.”

“And is the queue as long as this one?”

“Longer. On account of they don't have phones in Heaven. It'd be temptation, see. Too easy for an angel to phone up his charge and tell them not to get on the 8:15 to Paddington.”

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