“Fingers crossed I never have to meet one.”
He leans over to me and speaks in a fake conspiratorial whisper.
“You won’t. I put them far, far away from you people. Why do you think space is so big?”
He sits up and laughs, pleased with his vaudeville act. I always wondered if I’d run into him sometime. I’m not sure what I was expecting. A muscle-bound Old Testament Conan Yahweh. Maybe a pothead New Testament love guru. Something. But not Muninn. And especially not a bad Xerox asshole version of Muninn.
“Why did you leave me down here all those years?”
“You mean why do I allow human suffering?”
“No. What I mean is why did you leave me down here?”
“You don’t belong anywhere, so what difference does it make where you are?”
“You really hate me, don’t you? I’m every fucking mistake you ever made all rolled into one.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Aelita murdered Uriel, my father.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her to?”
“Aelita and I aren’t really on what you’d call speaking terms these days.”
“Is my father stuck in Tartarus?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s gone.”
“Where?”
“He’s just gone.”
“The other dead nephilim, are they gone, too?”
He raises one hand and drops it back in his lap.
I ask, “What’s in Tartarus?”
He doesn’t say anything for a while.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d put that cigarette out. It bothers my allergies.”
“You have allergies?”
“Only down here.”
I flick the cigarette over the side into the crazies’ bonfire below.
“What I don’t get is the disappearing act. You hate me. That’s a given. But if you were done with all us mortal slobs and moving on to 2.0, why didn’t you just kill us? Or didn’t you care enough to put us out of our misery? Is that who you are? One of those people who forgets their kid in the car on a hot day until it has a stroke?”
He doesn’t move or speak for a while. He just looks down into the street. A couple of raiders walk by, passing a bottle back and forth. Neshamah leans over the edge and spits, hitting one of the raiders on top of his head. He laughs.