“I really need a cigarette,” God muttered. I watched expectantly as He reached towards His pocket. But suddenly, He withdrew His hand again.
“No,” He said firmly. He sat up very straight, pulling His shoulders back. “I will not give in to temptation. As of today, I’m giving up the demon weed for good.”
“That’s very noble of you,” I said flatly.
“Probably why I’m in such a foul mood.” He tried to assume a comfortable pose, but ended up looking as relaxed as an air traffic controller after six cups of coffee. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s just that the stress has been starting to get to me. And Sally’s been getting to me too.”
“Seems like you’ve been handing out too many treats to Sally, and now she’s got a sweet tooth that won’t go away.”
God sighed. “Don’t think I don’t know it. I’ve heard all the things people are saying. It’s just that sometimes I find it hard to say no. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve always had a soft spot for blondes.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I like to think I’m as hard as the reinforced hull of a supertanker, but show me a honey-blonde mane and a red-lipped smile and I’m sunk. But now, while I’m still afloat, I’d like to return to the subject of Raphael’s disappearance. Can you imagine why anyone would want to kidnap him?”
“I’ve got absolutely no idea. Everyone loved Raphael.”
“I wouldn’t have expected sarcasm from you.”
“Well, what would you have expected?” God said abruptly. “Nobody liked Raphael much, including me. He was annoying. Save the birds, save the trees, save the poor from the whales. Someone please save me from Raphael.”
“What happened to the God of charity I was always told about?”
“Listen to me,” said God, folding His arms like a stubborn child. “Do you like it when people come around hassling you for donations?”
“Not particularly.”
“So why should I? After all, I made you in my image. Doesn’t it make sense that if you don’t like something, I probably won’t like it much either?”
“I never thought of it like that,” I said. Put that way, it made complete sense. Put that way, a lot of things made complete sense.
“Okay,” I said. “Notwithstanding the fact that almost anyone in Heaven could have had a motive for kidnapping Raphael, can you think of any way his disappearance might be connected to Phil’s? Remember that Phil disappeared while he was on his way to see Raphael.”
“I couldn’t say if there’s a connection. Phil was a lot more tolerant of Raphael than just about anyone else in Heaven, but I definitely wouldn’t have called them friends.”
I chewed over God’s response for a second. Then I spoke again.
“You couldn’t say if there’s a connection. Does that mean there isn’t a connection, or there is one but you’re not willing to tell me what it is?”
God turned to me and exploded.
“What do you mean by that?” He thundered.
“I think you can probably figure it out for yourself.”
“Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Are you implying that I’m holding back information? Do you really think that if there was something I could tell you that might help bring back my son, I wouldn’t?”
The feeling of violence in the room was palpable. I realised I’d better settle things down again quickly. There was no telling what God was capable of if He really got angry.
“I’m not implying anything,” I said softly. “It’s just that you’ve told me so little, and I assumed that because you are who you are, you must know a lot more than that.”
“Oh, I understand,” said God, His voice still dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t actually want to solve this case yourself. You’d much rather have me tell you everything you need to know. What do you expect? Do you think I know everything?”
“Actually, I thought you did.”
This stopped God in His tracks for a moment. Presently, He replied.
“You’re right. I do know everything.” Then He shrugged His shoulders. “It isn’t all it’s made out to be.”
“It sounds pretty handy from where I’m standing.”
“The great problem with knowing everything,” said God, “is that the vast majority of things are really not worth knowing. After a while, you end up with so much junk spinning around inside your head, it becomes practically impossible to determine which bits are actually important. Most of the time, I just end up confusing myself.”
“So there definitely isn’t anything else you can tell me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. I can’t tell anymore. Everything’s become so complicated. Take art for instance. I created that. Was damn pleased with myself at the time. In fact, I’d have to say that of all the things I created, art was definitely one of my favourites. But look at it now. There’s all this modern art, and post-structuralism, and . . . Well I can’t keep up with all the words they use these days. I haven’t got a clue what any of it means anymore.”
God sat back on the couch. He seemed to be struggling to collect His thoughts, which wasn’t surprising given how many of them there were. After a minute or so, He stirred again.
“Still,” He said, “at least I’ve got television. That’s one thing I’ll always understand.” He raised His remote control and the screen before Him flashed back to life.
I stood in the middle of the room, watching that luminescent box. The program was one of those funniest video shows, the sort that seemed to regard children falling from high places and suffering grievous bodily harm as innately hilarious. And at least one person in the room agreed with that assessment. Within a minute, God was cackling like a hyena in a bed of feather dusters. As for myself, I found it about as funny as a heart bypass.
After about a minute of pranks, pratfalls, and semi-serious injuries, I realised God had switched off for the day. I turned tail and departed from His chamber. He didn’t acknowledge me as I departed. He probably didn’t even realise I had gone.
As Gabriel escorted me from the palace, I was certain there was something God wasn’t telling me. Actually, there were an infinite number of things He wasn’t telling me, but hidden amongst them was something important. Something without which I would never find Phil.
* * *
Over breakfast, Jessie had given me directions to her secret passage between Heaven and Hell. That afternoon, I followed those directions and found an old grate low down in a wall between two houses. It was from behind this grate that Jessie had stared, observing the good people of Heaven before eventually emerging to join them in their games.
I waited by the grate for several hours, trying to convince myself to take the first step. Every so often, I would make a haphazard approach, shaping as if I was actually going to set off, but something always made me stop and hang back. Maybe it was the bright sun getting in my eyes, temporarily blinding me. Maybe it was a slight twist of my ankle as I leant down to inspect the grate. Or maybe it was the sight of a couple of passersby in the street, conveniently alerting me to the fact that it wouldn’t be wise to be spotted fleeing Heaven via this illicit passage.
After a while, I decided to return to the office. It seemed prudent to wait until dark to attempt the journey. That way, I was sure to be able to leave Heaven unnoticed. And besides, after my nerve-wracking encounter with God, I could do with a couple of hours’ rest. If Hell really was as bad as Jessie claimed, I wanted to be in an alert state of mind when I got there.