"Looks good," Azzie said, moving behind the painter.
"Would you mind getting out of my light?" Michelangelo said. "The working conditions are bad enough here without you making them worse."
Azzie moved. "It must be wonderful to create art."
Michelangelo sneered and wiped his sweaty forehead with a paint rag. "This isn't art. I'm just doing some touch-up on an old piece of mine."
"But you could do original painting if you wanted to, couldn't you?" Azzie asked.
"Sure. But in order to paint, a man must aspire, and what is there to aspire to after you've reached Heaven?"
Azzie had no answer because he'd never thought about it. Michelangelo returned to his work, and, watching him for a moment, Azzie thought he looked perfectly content.
Outside the great auditorium, in the circular corridors that surrounded the circular building, innumerable spirits were standing around, drinks in hand, eating hors d'oeuvres and talking. There were more spirits here than the place could hold, in fact, because every aethereal, indeed, the greater part of all sentient beings, had wanted to attend. The front office had come up with some new packing orders in an attempt to accommodate all. Even so, the concept of virtual space had had to be invoked, to the distaste of the purists who felt that either you're there or you're not there.
This was the big day, Judgment Day, the biggest event of the Millennium, the super Mardi Gras of the universe. It was time for everyone to get together with everyone else. Groups of spirits kept on arriving, looking around with awe at the Palace of Justice, then exclaiming, "Gee, so this is the place!" And then going on to somewhere else, usually the cafeteria, where for the most part they ordered light salads, because they didn't want to lose their appetite for the orgy that was promised if Bad won, or the feast that would be presented if the victor was Good.
All this noise and excitement was a change for Limbo. Limbo was usually a quiet place without anything much happening in the way of entertainment. The inhabitants of Limbo didn't expect much and were willing to live and let live. They tended not to make value judgments, since that was the sole stock in trade of the two adjoining principalities of Dark and Light. The Limboans sauntered along in their strange vague milieu, eating occasional absent-minded meals, making love in their inadequate way, having mediocre poetry readings and folk dance festivals of no great merit. Time was so eventless here that nobody bothered to keep it.
The lack of seasons also contributed to the monotony. And now all of a sudden they were hosting the contest of the Millennium. It just went to show you could never tell.
CHAPTER 4
In the great assembly hall, the central point of the Palace of Justice, all was in readiness for the great event. The audience sat in long curving rows chatting to each other, but for the most part sitting quietly, except in the sections marked for virtual reality, where myriads of onlookers were shuffled in and out at close to the speed of light, so that everyone who wanted to could see the performance without appreciable delay.
And yet, one thing wasn't right. Ananke hadn't shown up.
No one had any doubt that the great goddess Necessity would reveal herself when she was ready, and that she would choose what she considered a suitable vehicle in which to do so. But who would it be?
Expectations in the audience ran high, and people kept on craning their necks around hoping to catch the transformation. But even these knowledgeable ones were surprised when Marguerite, sitting by herself in a back row, suddenly arose as two friars, one blind, the other mute, came down the aisle with their staves tapping, walking directly toward her.
The mute one stared. The blind one turned his face upwards, and, with an expression of ecstasy, said,
"She is come to us at last!"
Marguerite, her eyes wide and glowing like opals, came out of her seat and into the aisle. People made way for her as, accompanied by her friars, who fell into step behind her, she made her way to the stage.
Her face was ivory white, her lips were pale, and her glowing eyes were like tiny flames in a dark mirror.
She seemed far more than a mortal woman at that point.
There was not a sound from the audience as she moved to the throne that had been prepared for her.
She sat down lightly, and turned to face the audience.
"The time of Judgment is at hand. But first, I believe there is one who would speak."
Odysseus stood up, made a deep bow, walked forward, stopped, and turned to address his first remarks to Ananke.
"My greetings to you, Great Goddess. I know, as well as all of us, that you rule everything and everyone.
Yet since this is to be a contest to settle the self-determination you have graciously allowed for mankind, I would take it as an honor if you would let me put forth a claim that has not been heard here."
"Come up to the stage and speak, Odysseus," Ananke said. "Great is your fame in the annals of mankind.
A viewpoint such as yours must be heard."
Odysseus mounted to the stage, arranged his cloak, and began in a low, rumbling voice.
"I should like to propose," Odysseus said, "that all assembled here consider a proposition I am about to put before you. My idea is simple, and even though it may seem revolutionary, I beg you to consider it.
So here it is: I propose that you bring the old Hellenic gods back to Earth and leave human destiny in their hands."
There was a scattered murmur of voices in the audience,, but Ananke held up her hand for silence.
Odysseus continued.
Ananke, Necessity, as your final arbiter of what is to be. Your concepts of good and evil, which began as absolutist statements in the early days of the Church, have been ameliorated to the point where they make no difference at all. The gains you have made in truth have been accompanied by a loss in veracity.
In place of the old free dialectic of Socrates and the Sophists, you have the didacticism of the various leaders of religions, churches, and covens. You will permit me to say to you that this is all rather crude, intellectually unsound, and unworthy of human beings with a capacity for reason. Why let yourselves be swayed by emotional statements? Why preach salvation when you don't believe in it yourselves? I beg of you, bring forth the reign of the old gods again, the irrational old gods with human qualities. Let Ares rage on the battlefield as he has never stopped doing. Let Athene stand for what is good and pure, and put Zeus back as divine arbiter, all-powerful but not all-wise. Our contribution, the Greek contribution, was to propose gods who were very powerful but not very smart. We cut the cloth of the supernatural to cover the frailties of our own inner beings. Now let's have an end of hypocrisy, admit that the new gods and spirits didn't work, and return to the old ways. If nothing else it will be an aesthetic gain."
When Odysseus had finished and returned to his place in the audience, there was much buzzing of conversation among the myriad sitting spirits. But Ananke called for order and said, "Excellent are the words of Odysseus, and they will be considered. But we have another speaker who wishes to put forth a claim, and he is as famous in his way as Odysseus in his. I refer to none other than Dr. Johann Faust, who has gone to considerable difficulty to be with us today. I give you Dr. Faust."
Faust walked up to the stage, whispered, "Thank you, Marguerite, I'll make it up to you somehow," then turned to the assembled spirits.
"My right honorable friend, Odysseus, has been known throughout history for his ability to charm through words. I myself am no charmer. I'll tell you some blunt truths, however, and you can make of them what you will. First, as to Odysseus' argument: A classical construct has great charm, no doubt, but no force of rightness about it. Those Hellenic fellows and their gods have had their day. The world forgot their religious views with very little regret. We don't need that lot back again. Not them or any other gods. I say, let's put down all the gods, both ancient and modern. We men don't need gods. We are like workers voting for a class of superior beings with which to oppress themselves. What do we need with these airy concoctions? Why should gods or devils or anything else rule our fate? I am Faust and I stand for man triumphant, man in all his frailties ruling his own destiny, without recourse to the supernatural.