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'I sense – arrogance,' replied Metatron. 'The Firstborn of the Seraphim, I sense arrogance in him.'



'He's terribly arrogant,' said Gabriel, interjecting.



'He's up his arse,' said Samael, showing into view behind Gabriel.



'Hello – Scum,' said Michael to Samael.



'Scum, is it?' asked Samael, and sat down in the eating hall of the Angelic Home of Heaven.



'Yes. A fitting title for one lacking morality,' replied Michael. 'And Samael the Angel has no morality.'



'I learned it all from Azazel,' replied Samael. 'He is a fearsome one, who does
not tolerate minor Seraphim usurpations.'



'Hah!' exclaimed Michael. 'The Ophanin believes me arrogant. That is rich.'



'He might have a point,' replied Gabriel. 'Azazel just has a rich sense of humour. Sarcasm, as they call it.'



'The angels of heaven prefer order and sobriety,' replied Michael. 'Not comedians.'



'Lighten up,' replied Samael, and lit a cigarette.



'Another fowl habit,' said Michael about the cigarette. 'They smell, and cause problems with the lungs breathing after a long indulgence.'



'I can cope,' smiled Samael. 'I take periods of abstinence.'



'Like abstaining from wanking?' asked Michael. 'You like the feeling of orgasm in your loins when you jerk your gherkin.'



'What else is it for?' asked Samael.



'It – has a purpose,' replied Michael. 'God will disclose it one day. You sin
against your own body doing that. I am sure of it.'



'Yada, yada, yada,' replied Samael. 'The Israelite thinks himself holy. The clan of the Torah worshippers have standards. Forgive me for being such a sinner,' said Samael sarcastically.



'Torah is the will of God,' stated Michael.



'Which Raphael made up,' said Samael. 'To try and control all of us with his sense of spiritual decorum. God gave us 5 rules, and no more. And I keep the 5,
so fuck off with your so called morality.'



Michael glared at Samael, but left it at that.



'Michael. You are very strict,' said Metatron. 'Fit in some ways for rulership,
but it puts our angelic brotherhood off a lot of the time. Lighten up brother.'



'Humph,' said Michael, and stood, and walked out of the eating hall.



'No sense of humour,' said Samael, puffing on his cigarette. Metatron just gazed at him in response.



'So, what have you been up to Mettie?' asked Samael.



'This and that,' replied the Angel.



'Yeh, this and that. I do a lot of that. Wanking around, being a devil. It's fun. Don't take life too seriously, and all that yada yada yada. Know what I mean.'



Metatron sighed. 'I think I do.'



'Besides, your a dickhead,' said Michael, coming back into the room.



'I'm a dickhead?' said Samael. 'Torah Kid calls me a dickhead? The King of Squares calls me a dickhead? Hah! That's rich?'



'He's more a circle,' said Gabriel. 'Or what he likes to think of himself. Well
rounded.'



'A small circle,' said Samael. 'Not much life in it. It circumvents a ridiculous code of self control with no real living fun. Torah is for fools.'



'It guides us and creates a holy life,' said Michael. 'It's strictness guards against infidelity to God.'



'I don't think God minds our freedoms that much,' replied Samael. 'He only gave
us 5 rules, and left it at that. Just like Michael to want more. Just like the legalist.'



'It helps him order his life,' said Metatron.



'Probably the most disorderly then, without the extra rules, I think,' said Samael. 'Needs it all just to keep his ego in check.'



'That's not true,' retorted Michael hotly. 'I like to comply with calm lawfulness. So that people may find peace.'



'People want to live a little,' said Samael.



'You are a wild man. You will never understand,' said Michael.



'I follow the five. And the Locus of my heart knows exactly where it is at each
time in all my decisions.'



'I doubt that,' said Michael.



'My Locus is all powerful, and beautiful,' said Samael. 'She is the champion of
my universe.'



'She?' asked Michael. 'What does that mean?'



'Softer. Tender,' replied Samael.



'Hardly you, now is it,' grinned Michael in response.



'Go to hell,' said Samael and puffed again on his cigarette.



'Yeh, hell. Exactly where you belong, dimwit.'



'Hell is a realm which I have visited. It is not quite my style. Dark, depressing, full of heavy feeling. Down below the catacombs of our heaven, in secret stairwells God speaks to few of.'



'There you go,' said Michael to the angels. 'He's already been to hell.'



'Perhaps you should come take a walk with me to the lower depths,' said Samael.
'It will put some humility into your religious pride, I think.'



'Ha, rich,' replied Michael. 'Well, I wouldn't go. Hell is a place of punishment. I obviously don't need punishing, unlike some I could mention.'



'The dark side,' began Samael. 'Is an experience. I don't regret my time their.
It made me live in reality. Something which escapes your kind quite obviously. It learns you quick and proper bruvva. But that is obviously beyond you.'



Michael glared at Samael in response, as the angel just puffed on his cigarette
and lit another one.



'How do you get to hell?' Gabriel asked Samael. 'Can you show me a stairwell?'



'There are secret latches in some of the catacombs. Talk to father in the throneroom if you want me to show you. I wouldn't take you normally, otherwise.
You are too innocent Gabriel. Naive in your sticking with these bunch of do gooders,' said Samael.



'Don't underestimate the strength of angel Gabriel,' said Metatron. 'I've seen inner abilities in him from time to time which might surprise you Sammy.'



Samael puffed on his cigarette and considered Gabriel. 'Maybe,' he said after a
few moments.



'Ho, it's Raphael,' said Michael, as Raphael entered the eating hall of the angels abode.



'What is going on here, fair angels?' queried Raphael. 'I see the upper hierarchy fiercely debating it doth seemeth to my wisdom.'



'If you call discussion with imbecility debate,' said Samael.



'No, not really,' retorted Michael instantly. 'Mostly intelligent conversation from one party, and drivel from the other.'



'So keep that drivel under control,' grinned Samael at Michael, and puffed smoke at him.



'The inane converse of Samael the fool,' said Raphael. 'He thinks himself cool I thinketh.'



'You think?' replied Samael. 'There is a first time for everything I guess.'



'He is a sinner, isn't he,' said Raphael, now standing confidently next to Michael.



'Rebellious in every way,' said Michael proudly, glaring at Samael.



'I think it is obvious in his farts,' said Raphael. 'They stink of the fowlest intoxication.'



'Much akin to the breath of Raphael I would imagine,' replied Samael.



'Oh, the lad is in a feisty mood,' said Raphael. 'Good sport, what.'



'Listen you black skinned posh bastard,' began Samael. 'Your attempt at singing
with all those bongo drums is not only boring, but grandly irritating. And then
you try and preach new Torah at us, and pass it off as divine. Give the angels of heaven a
break, Raph. We're not impressed.'



'By numbers much of the community likes our approach,' said Raphael.



'About half I think,' commented Gabriel.



Samael looked at Gabriel. 'That might be true, in fact, brother. I do acknowledge truth. But the other half of us are far from impressed.'



'The dark side never likes to conform,' said Raphael.



'Indeed,' commented Metatron soberly.



'You know,' began Samael. 'If we could be bothered to actually respond to your assumptions on living standards, you would be embarrassed. You would see the pointlessness of maintaining behaviour traits which do not enrich a life and the living experience,
but dullen it down, take the edge of adventure and vitality, and make you a boring conformist to Raphaelism, which only serves to enlargen, might I say even more so, the ego of a Seraphim angel who really should know better.'



'The response of evil only justifies a life style which will fade away when its
crude pleasures are all spent up,' replied Raphael.



'And you will see then,' began Michael, 'that sin has a season, and when that season has expired, so much of the divine fire within has died. It's a fool who
does not live the life by the light of Torah.'



'Torah of an angel,' replied Samael.



'The wisdom of the Book of Truth,' itself,' said Michael in respons. 'That is what Raphael's words really are. Truth. We know. We know it in our hearts.'



'A revelation of vanity,' said Samael.



'Ha. Rich,' replied Michael. 'Your vanity exceeds all and sundry, including blasted Azazel. You think yourself the pinnacle of wisdom.'



'Yet your team is guilty of that very act, through the machinations of new Torah, created only in your interests of sovereignty, or attempt thereat, and nothing of genuine life assistance,' replied Samael. 'Pot calling kettle black indeed.'



'A fool perishes for lack of knowledge,' said Raphael.



'A vain man pretends he knows all, yet fails to see the deceit in his own heart,' replied Samael.



'We have no deceit,' protested Raphael. 'Nought but good intentions.'



'With Raphael and co running the show. Ha, I spit at your vain attempts at authority. They shall never be recognized by myself, and many others I would claim.'



Raphael glared at Samael, but remained silent.



'A tree is known by its fruit,' said Gabriel. 'If Raphael's fruit is good, from
his ministry, he justifies himself.'



'Yet those with eyes to see the truth judge the fruit more accurately, and do not give into vain belief in ones immaculacy,' said Samael.



'Says the angel whose eyes are blind,' replied Raphael.



'So you say,' said Samael, and puffed on his cigarette.



'Foolish arguments profit not,' said Gabriel. 'Let us adjourn this discussion. It breeds no peace in our common fellowship.'



'As you wish,' said Samael, and stood, and left the eating hall.



'He's stubborn,' said Michael.



'He knows his own mind,' said Metatron. 'He has a perspective which is not your
own. Judge him if ye must, but ye may indeed be fighting a truth you'll acknowledge one day.'



'I doubt that,' said Michael, but did look towards the departed Samael.



Just then the Seraphim angels Simiel and Oriphiel entered the eating hall.



'We've been chatting, Michael,' said Simiel. 'Time to retire Saraqael and Remiel from their Archangelic duties. 'They are average Seraphim, and we two can do a much better job.'



'Gregoriel never stops championing them,' sighed Gabriel. 'They are a pair of comedic dimwits, who think themselves the authority of heaven.'



'The divine comedy,' said Simiel.



'We're a laugh a minute,' said Oriphiel.



'Yes, definitely a joke,' said Michael.



'You want a joke? What do you call an angel without wings?' said Simiel.



'I give up,' replied Michael. 'What?'



'Grounded,' said Simiel, a big grin on his face.



'Bad jokes at that,' replied Michael.



'I think we are happy with the seven Archangels as they stand,' said Gabriel. 'Your champion Gregoriel should think again.'



'But Saraqael and Remiel are just so average,' said Oriphiel. 'Boring mostly. We'll be much more lighthearted and popular.'



'Not the tone we're looking for,' said Raphael.



'So damn serious all the time,' said Oriphiel. 'At least dastardly Samael knows
how to have a good time.'



'Don't mention that clown,' said Raphael. 'We've had our fill of him for the day.'



'There were tense discussions,' Gabriel said to Oriphiel and Simiel.



'Why we two would be perfect on the Sovereign Seven,' said Oriphiel.



'You'll come round,' said Simiel.



'Indeed,' replied Michael.



'Camael, Jophiel and Zadkiel also had a go at being among the Seven once,' said
Gabriel. 'We had a temporary team with them, with Saraqael, Remiel and Raguel on other duties for a while. It didn't last though. It was before you guys were
born.'



'So you are saying we have a chance,' said Simiel.



'In your dreams,' replied Gabriel, giggling.



'Our time will come,' said Simiel to Oriphiel. 'And we'll be ready, Mike. You'll see.'



'I can hardly wait,' replied the Archangel Michael in the dryest of tones.



* * * * *



Samael looked down into the whirling maelstrom. The Angelfire. The source of creation. It was a lake of fire, in the heart of heaven, beneath the divine city above, down around which the catacombs hovered on its outskirts. A large lake in some way, but
small in most, 100 metres across, roughtly circular, and alive. That is all you
could say when you were in its presence. It was alive. Spiritual fire. The Angelfire. God had created the Angelfire as the very first of his projects, so it was taught, and
brought forth angelicdom of heaven from it. They were the angels of heaven, 700
brave male angels. They knew not what a male angel was, but they were it, brave
and true. And some were good, but Samael was bad, because Michael always reminded him he was
bad, whatever that meant. Like the tree of good and evil in the garden up above, Samael was the bad fruit. He didn't really believe that was true. Samael
had a conscience. He did listen to it. But he also did whatever the hell he wanted to do, and didn't
really give a damn what any other angel said to the contrary, including Michael
and Raphael and co. Metatron left him alone, and that was what seemed to matter
the most, as he was the oldest, and had the most respect. Azazel inevitably opposed Metatron,
and in the council of things which they established to run their own affair Metatron sat at the head, and on the other side of the round table sat Azazel, who challenged everything, and gave no respect to the apparent authority of heaven. And then there
was God, whose person was represented in an old man, who walked around heaven, eating fruit from the garden, a constant puzzle to all, who seemed good and benevolent, and left it all up to their own ministrations, the running of their
lives. And all of
that life began here, in this chamber of life, the chamber of the Angelfire.



'Destiny is born in there. Fate to,' said a voice to Samael's left.



Samael turned. It was Michael ironically enough.



Samael returned his gaze to the Angelfire and puffed on his cigarette. 'The dreams of eternal life unfold within do they?'



'Something like that,' replied Michael, drawing alongside his brother. 'All good is in there. And all bad. And the fates of eternal lives are lived out and
grown and lengthened inexorably and inevitably, through trial and endless trial
to strength of
life is gained, and the ability to cope with the eternal.'



'The ability to cope with the eternal? Is that what it is all about?' asked Samael.



'Getting used to everyone else, and this complex thing called life, and learning the mastery of it all,' replied Michael. 'God explained it to me very clearly. This is the Angelfire where the heart of creation is played out afore hand, and that was and
will be is born and liveth.'



'Fascinating,' said Samael. 'I use it to light my cigarettes.'



'You were born in there,' said Michael, looking down into the flames.



'I recall its life somewhat,' said Samael. 'There are – echoes of it, in my mind. I still remember things of the future, and that at the end of it all it all works out in the end, even if ironically.'



'God is good, you see,' said Michael.



'Perhaps he is. Or perhaps he is the living God, and you take what you get either way,' replied Samael.




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