Good Omens

refuse to be who you are," it said eventually. "Listen. Your birth and destiny are part of the Great Plan. Things have to happen like this. All the choices have been made."

"Rebellion izz a fine thing," said Beelzebub, "but some thingz are beyond rebellion. You muzzt understand!"

"I'm not rebelling against anything," said Adam in a reasonable tone of voice. "I'm pointin' out things. Seems to me you can't blame people for pointin' out things. Seems to me it'd be a lot better not to start fightin' and jus' see what people do. If you stop messin' them about they might start thinkin' properly an' they might stop messin' the world around. I'm not sayin' they would, " he added conscientiously, "but they might."

"This makes no sense," said the Metatron. "You can't run counter to the Great Plan. You must think. It's in your genes. Think."

Adam hesitated.

The dark undercurrent was always ready to flow back, its reedy whisper saying yes, that was it, that was what it was all about, you have to follow the Plan because you were part of it‑

It had been a long day. He was tired. Saving the world took it out of an eleven‑year‑old body.

Crowley stuck his head in his hands. "For a moment there, just for a moment, I thought we had a chance," he said. "He had them worried. Oh, well, it was nice while‑"

He was aware that Aziraphale had stood up.

"Excuse me," said the angel.

The trio looked at him.

"This Great Plan," he said, "this would be the ineffable Plan, would it?"

There was a moment's silence.

"It's the Great Plan," said the Metatron flatly. "You are well aware. There shall be a world lasting six thousand years and it will con­clude with‑"

"Yes, yes, that's the Great Plan all right," said Aziraphale. He spoke politely and respectfully, but with the air of one who has just asked an unwelcome question at a political meeting and won't go away until he gets an answer. "I was just asking if it's ineffable as well. I just want to be clear on this point."

"It doesn't matter!" snapped the Metatron. "It's the same thing, surely!"

Surely? thought Crowley. They don't actually know. He started to grin like an idiot.

"So you're not one hundred percent clear on this?" said Aziraphale.

"It's not given to us to understand the ineffable Plan," said the Metatron, "but of course the Great Plan‑"

"But the Great Plan can only be a tiny part of the overall ineffabil­ity," said Crowley. "You can't be certain that what's happening right now isn't exactly right, from an ineffable point of view."

"It izz written!" bellowed Beelzebub.

"But it might be written differently somewhere else," said Crowley.

"Where you can't read it."

"In bigger letters," said Aziraphale.

"Underlined," Crowley added.

"Twice," suggested Aziraphale.

"Perhaps this isn't just a test of the world," said Crowley. "It might be a test of you people, too. Hmm?"

"God does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Meta­tron, but in a worried tone of voice.

"Whoop‑eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?"

Everyone found their eyes turning toward Adam. He seemed to be thinking very carefully.

Then he said: "I don't see why it matters what is written. Not when it's about people. It can always be crossed out."

A breeze swept across the airfield. Overhead, the assembled hosts rippled, like a mirage.

There was the kind of silence there might have been on the day before Creation.

Adam stood smiling at the two of them, a small figure perfectly poised exactly between Heaven and Hell.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm. "You know what happened?" he hissed excitedly. "He was left alone! He grew up human! He's not Evil Incarnate or Good Incarnate, he's just . . . a human incarnate‑"

Then:

"I think," said the Metatron, "that I shall need to seek further instructions."

"I alzzo," said Beelzebub. His raging face turned to Crowley. "And I shall report of your part in thizz, thou hast better believe it." He glared at Adam. "And I do not know what thy Father will say . . ."

There was a thundering explosion. Shadwell, who had been fidget­ing with horrified excitement for some minutes, had finally got enough control of his trembling fingers to pull the trigger.

The pellets passed through the space where Beelzebub had been. Shadwell never knew how lucky he had been that he'd missed.

The sky wavered, and then became just sky. Around the horizon, the clouds began to unravel.

– – -

Madame Tracy broke the silence.

"Weren't they odd," she said.

She didn't mean "weren't they odd"; what she did mean she proba­bly could never hope to express, except by screaming, but the human brain has amazing recuperative powers and saying "weren't they odd" was part of the rapid healing process. Within half an hour, she'd be thinking she'd just had too much to drink.

"Is it over, do you think?" said Aziraphale.

Crowley shrugged. "Not for us, I'm afraid."

"I don't think you need to go worryin'," said Adam gnomically. "I know all about you two. Don't you worry."

He looked at the rest of the Them, who tried not to back away. He seemed to think for a while, and then he said, "There's been too much messin' around anyway. But it seems to me everyone's goin' to be a lot happier if they forget about this. Not actually forget, just not remember exactly. An' then we can go home."

"But you can't just leave it at that!" said Anathema, pushing for­ward. "Think of all things you could do! Good things."

"Like what?" said Adam suspiciously.

"Well . . . you could bring all the whales back, to start with."

He put his head on one side. "An' that'd stop people killing them?"

She hesitated. It would have been nice to say yes.

"An' if people do start killing 'em, what would you ask me to do about 'em?" said Adam. "No. I reckon I'm getting the hang of this now. Once I start messing around like that, there'd be no stoppin' it. Seems to me, the only sensible thing is for people to know if they kill a whale, they've got a dead whale."

"That shows a very responsible attitude," said Newt.

Adam raised an eyebrow.

"It's just sense," he said.

Aziraphale patted Crowley on the back. "We seem to have sur­vived," he said. "Just imagine how terrible it might have been if we'd been at all competent."

"Um," said Crowley.

"Is your car operational?"

"I think it might need a bit of work," Crowley admitted.

"I was thinking that we might take these good people into town," said Aziraphale. "I owe Madame Tracy a meal, I'm sure. And her young man, of course."