Angel Of The Seventh Day

Prologue The immaculately landscaped lawn stretches into infinity and a purple sky drape over the landscape like a shroud, suggesting that this place is beyond our world. Two groups approach each other. At a proper distance, as prescribed by the order, they halt. The first group is led by a man of medium height. He wears shorts and a white shirt with blue patterns. On his feet he wears sandals and, on his head, a straw hat. His eyes are hidden behind dark, round rimmed glasses. He nibbles slowly and with relish on peanuts he takes from a bag. His companions are dressed in white togas and sandals. Their eyes are light blue and piercing. One has short blond hair, the other is dark-haired and it falls over his shoulders. The leader lowers his glasses to the tip of his nose and stares with mild brown eyes at the newcomers. He waits to be greeted. The man across from him is wearing a bright red- men's suit, a black shirt, and a tie, the same color as the suit. His shoes are black, varnished, and his hair is straightened and glossy. His companion is the complete opposite of his theoretical appearance. The two monsters with the short stature, thick legs and bumpy bodies bear no resemblance to humans. Yet, the bewildered eyes on the grotesque heads show signs of sanity. Both groups watch each other; the men in togas ridiculous and the two freaks insidious and hateful. The uncomfortable silence is broken by the red suit: "You got a little thick, didn't you?" The man in the straw hat smiles and replies: "Yeah, I know. And you, I see, have lost weight. I'm guessing, out of spite? By the way, that suit looks like it's hanging on a hanger." "You don't get fashion, you gave up on the world a long time ago," he replies. "So you want to get your paws on him?" The freaks begin to roar; their leader calms them with a wave of his hand and suggests: "Let's play!" The man's brown eyes gleam curiously and mockingly. Sarcastically he answers: "Golf, or do you have something else in mind?" "Golf. In the process, I'm going to make you a proposition that you'll find hard to refuse. It will be very exciting, believe me!" "That's the way it's supposed to be!" comes the answer. Suddenly and out of nowhere, a bag of golf clubs appears on the shoulder of one of the freaks. The suit chooses one and measures the weight in his hand while the other freak stabs the tee into the ground and places the ball on it. "Please, my former master, let the first blow be yours!" he offers condescendingly. "Oh, thank you," replies the man in the same mocking tone, puts his peanuts in his pocket and continues: "Still, you lost the game last time, now you have to start!" Grins spread across the faces of the companions in togas, causing undisguised anger in the red guy. The two freaks start to roar. He soothes her again with a wave of his hand and grits his teeth: "Thy will be done!" The duo in white grin harder, reminding the red guy of the awesomeness of his defeat in the last match. He swings the bat furiously and sends the ball unmistakably through the air. "New technology?" asks the man with the colorful shirt seemingly harmlessly. Excitedly they follow the ball, which flies about three hundred meters and falls into the green zone not far from the flag. Their eyes are not mortal eyes and they see far more. He bends down, sticks his tee in the ground, places the ball and receives the bat, which his black, long-haired companion adds. "Just a chopstick?" he hears the mockery. "One is enough, my stumbling son. You forgot modesty!" "Modesty was not what you had in mind when you made your creation!" Both freaks giggle horribly. Their master's remark is funny only to them. The man pays no attention to them and gracefully swings the club. They follow the ball with their gaze as it rushes into the purple sky and realize that it is flying straight into the hole. A sudden gust of wind changes the trajectory and the ball lands far from the flag. "This gust of wind is a surprise. Here was no wind from the beginning." Calmly concludes the man, throws away the bat, which mysteriously disappears, and grabs the peanuts. "There's a first time for everything, but why surrender?" Nibbling, he replies: "You, my son, did not ask for a meeting to play golf, but to make a suggestion." "All business is done in the game of golf!" "My son, are you offering me a deal?" he puts special emphasis on the word "deal". "Forgive me, I do not know what I am doing. It's supposed to be a suggestion", answers the guy with difficulty, suppressing anger. The man takes off his glasses, wipes them on his shirt and puts them back on his nose. His every move is precise and calm. The well-dressed guy knows he's testing his patience on purpose, so he reins in his grumpy side. "Let's hear it. What are you gonna do now?" finally, the man speaks. "You've been neglecting creation. I don't understand why, but I think you'll like the experiment I have in mind!" he replies, as his eyes sparkle with excitement. "Your provocative attempt is futile, you know I never neglect my children." "But they neglected you!" He smiles and replies: "I gave them the will and the freedom of choice. My mercy, as you know, is boundless!" The freaks are laughing loudly now and their cawing is terrible. Their leader can't calm them down this time. The two in white form up in front of the freaks with inconceivable speed; in a flash they rip their heads from their shoulders and throw them onto the grass in disgust. Two grotesque corpses fall to the grass like fallen logs and the eyes on the severed heads blink in surprise and agony. "What is that supposed to mean?" The guy doesn't hold back the anger that's been unconstrained. "As I said, I gave them the will and freedom of choice and they chose to calm your monsters. Now go on, I'm listening." The eyes of the gentleman in red glow orange. He hasn't seen this much humiliation from the other party in a long time. The man's companions are nonchalant, their eyes gleaming with scorn and swirling his anger even more. He knows they are more powerful than he. Insidiousness and deception are his weapons, so he restrains himself. His eyes become human as he obediently walks on: "Let the will and freedom you have given them decide who your creation will ultimately belong to. You can always create new ones, and I am surprised that you have not done so before." "I listen, to convince myself." "The competition becomes meaningless, our subjects are indecisive, they have faith and they don't." "Ours?" the man in white tilts his head to reveal the view over the glasses. "All right, yours. So, let's give them a challenge that will end the competition forever!" " If you believe in your creation, your flock, love and grace, then agree and prove my efforts futile!" The man in white doesn't answer that, instead he starts laughing so loud that his laughter echoes through the green expanse. Finally he calms down, takes off his glasses, wipes the tears from his eyes and answers: "I'll do it. Let's explain the details!" Suddenly a large office table and two armchairs appear as if they had grown out of the ground. On the table are a pitcher of water, two glasses and a globe of the earth. Both sit down to begin negotiations. The challenger takes out a file from the inside pocket of his red jacket and places it in front of his competitor: "I chose these as a control pattern. I hope you agree, please check them out." The man in white carelessly opens the documents and takes a look at the contents. "You chose infidels?" Clever, but I agree. Let's use these people as a pattern!" His companions stare in amazement, their masters' approval incomprehensible. Convinced that the master would crush the guy on the spot for shamelessly interfering with creation, they remain surprised and astonished. The gentlemen negotiate and arrange the trifles. Time does not pass in this place, but the words exchanged would write all the books in the world. The companions listen incredulously and attentively. Finally, they end the agreement and stand up at the same time. The guy does not hide his joy and offers his hand. The man in white presses a peanut bag into his offered hand, winks at him and leaves without saying goodbye, while the companions hurry after him. After the right distance dares the companion with the black long hair: "My lord, why did you agree to this?" The green area dissolves and disappears into the nothingness from which it was created. Only the voices remain, resounding among the stars of the universe: "Are you questioning my decision, Michael?" "No, my lord." "And you, Gabriel?" "Far from it!" "Still, are you surprised by my decision?" "We are stunned "they say at the same time." "Have you forgotten that I love all my children and try to fulfill their wishes and prayers?" "We are not forgetful, my God!" "Of course not, boss!" "But you have forgotten that the apostate is also my child!" The two archangels are ashamed. "Descend to the earth, observe, and do whatever it takes!" "Yes, Father!" The angels answer submissively and set out to fulfill his will. * * * Milan angrily throws the screwdriver onto the workbench, swears and lights a cigarette. For half the day he agonizes over the starter motor, which he can't put together. He can't use the brushes his employer gave him, as much as he sands them, and it wouldn't be the first time he's brought him the wrong parts. He sits down in a rickety armchair, bleached by the sun, and looks out at the junkyard. He has no choice but to take apart several starters and look for the right brushes. "What's the matter, master, isn't it working?" Shouts one of the masons who are finishing a wall around the junkyard. He shakes his head violently and greedily inhales the smoke, as if the tobacco will drive the anger from his consciousness. "Come over and have a beer with us, don't worry about it!" He thinks about it for a moment, gets up, and heads to the workers gathered around the beer crate to take a break. The sun is low and it's late noon; he hasn't looked at his watch for a long time. The boys in their dungarees greet him and press the bottle into his hand. They exchange common phrases to dispel the unease. For fifteen days they've been building this meaningless wall around the junkyard, the gas station, and the restaurant next to the highway. During all this time, apart from greetings, he hasn't exchanged a word with the boys. "Milan, right?" asks the bricklayer in his late thirties. "That's my name!" he replies and raises the bottle to toast. He takes a big gulp and the others follow his example. New cigarettes are lit to add zest to the narrative. "What's with the wall? All around is a bare area, except for that cornfield over there?" interjects one of the workers. "Boss Cvetković imagined that someone would steal parts from these mountains of rubble at night." Milan answers and continues: "But if he wants to throw his money away, let him, I don't care." "Not for us, actually. We got a good deal. How many junk cars do you have here?" He knows what's coming next. Everyone needs a little something, some car part, for nothing even vinegar tastes sweet as honey. He learned this trait from humans a long time ago. "About five hundred, I guess." "And how do you manage to find a certain part?" the head mason asks him and drinks the rest of the beer. "I have a computer in the trailer, it records everything." The casual conversation continues, the request he knows will follow is only a matter of time. The second beer is almost finished; the moment has come: "Look mate, I need the last bumper for the Lada Niva, some i***t rammed me at the traffic lights the other day and money is always tight, you know how it is."