Harold shook
his head. There was an acrid taste in his throat, though whether it
was the emotion of watching an innocent creature be incinerated, or
the fumes from the incineration (it had smelled like a combination of
burning rubber and nail varnish), he couldn't say. He pointed
soundlessly at the sales assistant who was in the process of pouring
the ashes onto the postage scales. “Can he do that?”
Jasfoup
shrugged. “Clearly, he just did.”
“No, I
mean, is he allowed to do that? Isn't there some basic human rights
about cruelty to animals?”
“Here?
No.” Jasfoup patted him on the shoulder. “While I appreciate the
basic goodness you've absorbed from the humanity around you, it
doesn't really have any practical application in Hell. Basic human
rights concerning the mistreatment of animals is all very well –
and I'd be first to condemn someone not feeding a cat at the right
time – but you're forgetting two major things.”
“Which are?”
“One,
Human values rarely apply to demons and two, a phone isn't an
animal.”
“What is
it then?”
“How should I know? There certainly weren't any in the Garden of Eden and I'm pretty certain nobody said 'Hey, Noah! Don't forget your mobile phone.”
“Where did
they come from then?”
“Why don't you ask?”
“I will.”
Harold walked back to the counter. “Excuse me?”
The sales
assistant looked up. “Excuse you? I can't even explain you.”
“Har-de-har.”
Harold scowled. “Where do the phone...” He struggled for a noun.
“Creatures come from?”
“The
manufacturer, obviously.”
“Magelight?”
“Of
course.” The sales assistant bristled. “Any complaints will have
to be made to them.”
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