“Coffee in Aether City”

The aether is falling again. Damn it. This is all I need this morning. The city angels are spitting on me, I can tell. They’re not spitting on the other pale and witless schleps huddled under the dark green café parasols… just on me.

And my tasteless coffee.

I’m far from grace. This city is going to murder me. Two years, five months, and sixteen days of Aether City have sucked me dry of all but the very basic human passions. I don’t even miss them, really. I know that sounds self-ingratiating, but I can handle that. At least I’m being honest.

Too bad Murdock had to stick his ugly damned mug out of the brownstone across the street. He’s going to have a crap ass day.

His last day.

He’s just another soul that got sucked into this cosmic Venus flytrap. The day his soul touched ass at the karmic station, I knew he’s be a problem. God, he’s going to hate today. I mean, as bad as it’s gotten here, at least it’s not Cinderville.

Jesus. Cinderville. What a pit of worthless humanity! I’ve seen gored soul-aether smeared against the sides of taxicabs after twisted traffic accidents that were more appealing than Cinderville. The aether runs like puddles of muddy rainwater, mixed with blood and a significant share of pain. And God, does it smell!

So, I’ve hung my hat in this bland, tasteless, sooty, predictable Aether City.

And so did Murdock.

Only, he doesn’t belong here. I don’t mean, according to the old rules. Those rules left town with God. I heard it got bad right before he left… like, he was letting everything slip. Well, whatever happened, it happened. And things haven’t changed in the last two years, five months, and sixteen days that I’ve been here.

But there are expectations. No average soul gets its ass handed over to the city angels. I had to bust a nut to get up here. It took decades! Jesus, what a disappointment!

So, I don’t know what Murdock was thinking. Did he expect to just wander in, set up camp, and claim squatter’s rights? No, he’s going to remember today.

All I have to do is tag him.

He slaps a black fedora over his pointed imp ears and tucks into the falling aether. I pull back the last of what they call coffee here, and roll my newspaper up under my arm.

Puddles are collecting along the curbs. Murdock tries to melt into the clusters of souls milling around for no apparent reason… none that I can see, in any event. I just look through them. I can do that. The city angels let me.

City angels. Christ, what hypocrites! I can tell why Lucifer ditched town in the first place. With a host of insipid sycophants plotting against him and God, who would want to stay here? Sure, there was a time when everyone trembled at the thunderous voices of the Hosts, blah, blah. Then reality set in. I think we can give the Living all the credit for that. Hell, they reshaped this city all on their own. And Cinderville. They had the thanks of millions of imps. But the Hosts weren’t terribly pleased. Hypocrites!

But the big man stayed with the Living. Took a couple hundred years before he just decided it was time to move on. Took all the real heavyweights with him, too. Now it’s just the mediocre, the city angels, and they’re brokering our meaningless existence as if they were God.

Christ! Aether City is a committee of committees. And the Living just keep reshaping the skyline.

The gothic spires and crosses and moons… the cobwebs, the granite stones, the iron fences… I’ve never seen Earth, but the inside of the Living’s collective conscious is a dreary damn place! We don’t get them anymore. Most of them just reincarnate or snuff out. Maybe two a year will make it to Aether City straight from the Earth.

And are they pissed off! I used to have to meet and greet at the karmic station. I’d have to deal with their bright-eyed fluffiness, and then I’d have to deal with their morose disappointment. “Sorry, God’s gone. He left. Welcome to an eternity of ennui.” Then they go on about how dreary Aether City is. That’s usually what pinned them to the wall. “What do you mean? You create this place! This is all your fault!”

But they weren’t really expecting a demon to greet them at heaven’s gates, were they? Can’t blame the Living. That’s a fool’s bet. They may create the city, but we exist without their permission or approval.

And Murdock has neither.

He pauses by the paper stand. The papers are almost transparent from the aether. He scans the headlines, anyway. Why? Nothing changes here. Beings come and go. We don’t accomplish anything. Only what the city angels demand. I…

Damn! He saw me. I didn’t want this to turn into a fight.

“Azrael.”

“You can come quietly or we can make a mess. You’re call, Murdock.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“This isn’t your place, imp.”

“Says who?”

“Says the city angels. Now come on.”

“What’s the point in borders, Az? Really? I can’t think of any. Come on, we kicked these bastards in the ass thousands of years ago. Why all of a sudden do we let them push us around?”

“New world. New rules. We can’t just make them up as we go along. Look at yourself, Murdock! Standing there in your black tweed blazer and fedora. You don’t even look right. Come on. Time to go where you fit in.”

“I can’t go back, Az. Don’t do this.”

“No choice. It’s time to go.”

Damn it to hell. He’s got a blade. The souls scatter as he swings out from under his wings. His face is panic. I can understand that. It’s just too bad.

He thrusts clumsily with that rusted dark blade, and I catch it easily in my talon. I break the end off just to keep him from hurting others.

“You finished?”

He looks stunned and hurt. He’s just an imp. Poor tosser. I’m not in the mood to drag this out. I suppose I’ve developed a taste for the bland. All this attention is grating on me.

I move quicker than light, and take his head off.

Standing a block down the street, I find the nearest refuse bin, and discard the mess, wiping his soul-aether from my talons. And so it’s back to Cinderville for Murdock, and nothing interesting will happen for a while, I’m sure.

I’m not entirely sure if I’m glad. All I feel is the aether falling on my wings and the stare of the city angels as they stifle their mockery.

I need a shine. Think I’ll head over to the hotel before lunch.