jamieproctor.ca

I’ll never forget the first time I saw that guy. Not the face, no – the face is gone, don’t have the faintest clue what it was, well, maybe it had feathers on it – but I remember him. Came downstairs all chained up, brought along by three of the biggest bastards we had, weapons out, all eyes on him. And he’s not moving a finger, not sweating a drop, but damnit if he isn’t grinning like a pumpkin patch come Halloween.
“What’ve we got this time?” I said.
The biggest and ugliest of the guards pulled out the papers and held them between finger and thumb on his second try. “Theft.”
Well, that was new to me – though of course, everything was new to me back then. I didn’t think we’d had theft yet. Universe isn’t but brand new and someone ups and walks away with part of it. “What’d he nab?”
The thumb moved with painful care and delicately flipped loose a second sheet of paper. “The sun.”
“What?”
“Stole the sun. You know that old guy that lives down there with his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Snuck in with a fancy disguise and a made-up-name and snatched it right outta his longhouse. Moron held it in his mouth, half-burnt out his voice. Now’s all he can do is croak.”
“Sentencing?”
A third flip, done in haste, tore the paper clean in half. “Shit, shit, shit.” The fingers closed in agitation and mangled the remnants. “Just spread the burn – toast ‘im crispy-black.”
“Right,” I said. So we took that sun and burned the thief crispy-black, but we couldn’t undo that crime of his, because down there in the world, that sun was still shining. And we couldn’t take that grin off the thief’s face either.
Now, things got real quiet for a while, as they should. Crime doesn’t pay, punishment prevents recurrence, so on. I didn’t mind all that much; it let me catch up on my paperwork. Well, it let me push my paperwork around on my desk so the piles looked smaller. Same thing. If you actually do any of your paperwork, I’m pretty sure that violates some little universal law somewhere and causes problems. Read it somewhere at the time, I think.
Well, my reading got interrupted sooner than I hoped, because the stairs started thumping with big jackboots again and down comes six of the biggest, meanest bastards we had, weapons out, chains attached to them and the prison, and the grin on that face – whatever that face was, it was on the tip of my tongue – just brought back memories. Although it might have been furrier than I recalled.
“Him again? What happened this time?”
The biggest guard dropped the shredded remains of what had once been some papers on my desk, vibrating with anger.
“Death.”
“What?”
“Death forever. Little shithead gave us death with no way back. Some of his pals were cooking up a way to put a stop to the whole sordid business, bring back the ghost of their pal and stick it back in the body. Well, this jackass”-a savage kick was directed at the jackass, who dodged it, grinning -“figured that the world without death would get ‘too crowded,” and he locks the door at just the wrong moment and bam, spirit goes back home to the underworld and tells everyone else not to bother. Death’s forever, no takebacks. Sentence is death, before you ask, and good bloody riddance to him.”
“Poetic justice,” I said, and signed it all through. Figured that’d be the last I saw of him, that one. Harsh to put an end to him for good, but making sure everything dies forever’s a lot worse than break-and-enter grand theft. Can’t be soft on murder-enablers, or else the whole system stops working.
Now, the next time caught me by surprise a bit. Clang thud bang, staircase almost rattles and falls apart under the weight of twelve guards, a thousand chains, and the biggest smirking smile I’ve ever seen, so big it seemed like it’d almost make his toga burst.
“Sign,” said the guard. He was smaller than the last few I’d spoken too, but too angry to speak. I had to read the papers myself, a damned nuisance.
“Let’s see….he uh, rigged a meal?” I asked.
“Read. It.”
I read it. “He rigged a meal against the king of the gods, feeding him fatty bones and tricking him into giving the humans the steaks?”
A short nod. “Page. Two.”
I scanned it. Okay, that’s criminal mischief at worst, but seems mostly a private dispute, but…
I read the next page. Then read it again. Then I rubbed my eyes a lot. “So to make it fair and even the gods take fire from the humans, then HE steals it back?”
A nod.
“What’d he use?”
The guard flung down a stalk of fennel, the inside seared crispy-brown.
“Great. Another break-and-enter, and sacrilege in the second degree, plus knowing contempt of omnipotence.” I shook my head. “You’d think he’d have learned after the first time. What’re we going to do about this guy? We already killed him once.”
“Page. Three.”
I looked at page three. “Jesus. Isn’t that a bit…no I suppose it isn’t.” I looked at page three again. “Still…an eagle, right?”
“Yes.”
“And the liver?”
“Yes.”
“Every day forever and ever?”
The guard’s lips had compressed themselves into a tiny, utterly bloodless smile. “Yes.”
“Well, this ought to teach him a lesson if nothing else will.” I signed it. “Go on.”
I watched him walk away, wrapped in chains. He was still smiling, all the way down the hall.
There was a quiet bit there, for a while, when everything was routine. A little damnation, a little repentance, a few curses and some imprisonments. And then one day I hear this metal scream and the staircase bursts in half, spilling twenty-five guards and the head warden down the stairs cursing in a heap, with that smile on top of a face on top of the whole pile. It seemed more crooked than I remembered, and a few new scars were on it.
“Well?” I asked.
The warden struggled to his feet, put on his left shoe again, and spat out someone’s moustache. “Well what?”
“Well what now? I thought we’d locked him up for good. What’s going on?”
The warden’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on is that the little weasel got clean away at least a thousand years ago. Under your watch.”
“But-“
“What’s going on,” said the warden, talking just a little more loudly, “is that before we found him again, he’d stolen fire at least three more times on damn well every continent. Gave it to humans each time, too, damned if I know why.”
“Well-“
“WHAT IS GOING ON,” yelled the warden directly into my face, “is that at SOME point he got a bit bored of all of this and stabbed the bright god to death with a piece of cursed mistletoe, THEREBY dooming the whole lot of them to apocalyptic battle and defeat and forcing the rebirth of the world.” He slammed a single sheet of paper on top of my desk one handed with violent force, then smiled pleasantly. “Sign here.”
I signed the form, which condemned the individual concerned to be chained up by the guts of his children in an underground chamber and have a poisonous serpent drip excruciating venom directly into his eyes. “Signed.”
“Good.” The warden tipped his hat, the guards went on their way, and I swear I saw that smile break into a snicker before its bearer passed on his way.
That was a thousand years and more ago, and it’s been quiet since. But I know too much to stay calm now, because how often does anyone go down there and take a look in that cave? Oh, they still hear the earthquakes now and then, but who checks, and how often?
It’s just a matter of time. Some people just never damned learn.