The Book of Gud Part 30

This interested Gud, for his vacation was getting irksome. So he called Fidu and let him sniff the advertis.e.m.e.nt and said: "Go get him!"

Fidu immediately hit the trail through the great darkness, baying beautifully.

When the Underdog returned there followed at his heels a handsome Devil.

Gud shook hands with his caller and, removing the pot of beans from the hot rocks in the center of the fire, asked him to be seated.

The Devil, throwing off his cape, sat down in the flames and poked his feet comfortably into the glowing coals.

"You are very considerate," said the Devil, as he took out his pipe and filled the bowl with brimstone; "most fellows of your ilk would let me shiver or make me start my own fire."

"Don't mention it," said Gud. "You have, I believe, a partnership proposition."

"That I have," returned the Devil, "but first may I ask how you came to be out of employment?"

"I smashed everything," explained Gud, "and quit business. The place got too big to be handled easily and I couldn't get efficient help. I thought I would retire, or at least take a long vacation; but you know how that goes, we are all creatures of habit."

"Yes," agreed the Devil, "many of us are like that. We try to do too much, and get discouraged and throw up everything. However, I have always been a hard worker and rather liked it."

"But you are out of a job now," said Gud significantly, "and before I can talk business I will have to know why."

"Certainly," said the Devil, "I am out of employment for the very excellent reason that my G.o.d died."

"What! You don't mean it?"

"Why not? You fellows don't want to take your immortality too seriously.

It's a necessary pose, of course, as a matter of business; but you see my G.o.d was really very old. He had a premonition, too, and very thoughtfully left me a letter of recommendation. Would you like to see it?"

"Thanks, but I never look at letters of recommendation. I have written too many of them. But tell me about this death of your employer."

"My partner, you mean," corrected the Devil. "Of course, I was only the junior partner, but I had a share in the loot. As I said, this chap was old and had won and lost many realms. I was with him on his final venture, running a h.e.l.l as usual, and a purgatory on the side--the heavy end of the job, I call it, on that three-realm theology. This old G.o.d had nothing to do but sit up there surrounded by his angels--yes, he really had angels, old-fashioned place, you know--and wait for the resurrection when I was to deliver up his share of the loot from purgatory, and the Chief Arch was to blast the sleepers out of their graves."

"That's a bit muddled," remarked Gud.

"I grant it, but we had it arranged that way. Well, we got everything ready and I turned the crowd out of purgatory as per agreement; and the Arch blasted out the sleeping souls, and they all went trooping into heaven, demanding to see their G.o.d.

"It was a sorry affair, all those countless souls who had lived and died, and some of them had suffered in purgatory for eons. And finally they came trooping into heaven and no G.o.d in sight.

"They sent an angel down for me, for the situation was beyond those harp playing satellites. I found that the old G.o.d had died peacefully in his sleep, leaving the letter for me and a proper will drawn up, but he was dead.

"I fixed up a double and set him on the throne to keep the crowd quiet while I stood behind a screen to prompt him. But some disgruntled little wing flapper betrayed us and the fraud got out. The crowd stopped squabbling about their gowns and harps, and dropped their hymn books and stared up at us.

"It makes me sad yet when I think about it. I have roasted them and flayed them and boiled them without mercy; all that was nothing like seeing the disappointed expression in the eyes of those poor souls, all arrayed in their new celestial gowns and with harps in hand, staring like little lost children up at a dummy on the throne, and wailing because their G.o.d was dead!"

"When did all this happen?" asked Gud.

"A long while ago--like you, I've been on a vacation. The fact was that experience gave me a distaste for my profession. But you know how it is.

We are all creatures of habit, as you say, and there are ups and downs in all business. I feel now that it is about time I got back to work--especially since I discovered this virgin world. With that we can start all over, everything new, all our experience to help us, and the likelihood of good luck this time by the law of averages."

"Right you are," agreed Gud, "there is nothing like work. A shoemaker should stick to his last and die with his hammer in his hand. Yes, I think I will consider your proposition. Where is this property you speak of?"

"In the eighth plane."

"The eighth plane!" repeated Gud incredulously. "My dear fellow, there are only seven planes!"

"That's just it; it's being in a place where it could not be explains why it is still there."

"A fascinating tale," said Gud dubiously, "but how can mortals stay rational and civilized if they do not know that we exist, or that there are immortal joys and torments awaiting for them after they are through with their brief span of mortality?"

"Now I can't answer that question as to theory, but I can report my observation of the fact that they manage it very decently well."

"It seems incredible to me," sighed Gud.

"It doesn't to me," replied the Devil, "for if I were mortal I would surely make the best of the life I had instead of pining and worrying about another, which, as you know for yourself, is never quite up to mortal expectations."

The Devil knocked the ash out of the bowl of his pipe on one of the glowing rocks. "Naturally we haven't as much interest as you have in keeping the superst.i.tion alive, since we have the dirty end of the deal.

But you know very well that you can't do business without us. It has been repeatedly demonstrated that mortals quickly lose interest in those one-sided theologies which, like their own Utopias, are insipid with perfect goodness and boresome with joy. What pleasure could there be in hoping to go to an eternal sunparlor without knowing that one's neighbor was going to h.e.l.l?"

"Yes, yes, I grant that argument, but this virgin world of yours is hardly plausible."

"Holy comets!" exclaimed the Devil, springing up angrily, "do you doubt my observation or my veracity?"

"Both," said Gud.

"We are wasting words. If you will step this way you can see for yourself."

"Just a moment," said Gud, who then arose and set the pot back on the hot rocks, and commanded Fidu to tend the fire and not to spill the beans.

"Watch your step," called back the Devil. "There are some ugly holes in the void beyond the seventh plane."

"How is that for a sphere?" spoke the Devil as he pointed out his find.

"Not half bad," admitted Gud, "but it's a little flat at the poles.

Strictly speaking, it is a spheroid."

"Don't quibble over details. And now, if you don't mind, I'll materialize as a prosperous gentleman and you can be my cane-bearer."

"Not on your smoke," retorted Gud, "you advertised for a partner. We materialize as equals or we stop right here."

"Have it your way. I'll be a king in exile, and you can be a bricklayer on strike."

So in that guise they stepped aboard, taking care to alight on the north pole to avoid the chance of an ugly fall.

"Which way, now?" asked Gud.

"South. We must obey their natural laws."

So they traveled south to the equator, pa.s.sing along the seash.o.r.e where the thriving cities were. As Gud walked along between the Devil and the deep blue sea he saw many things that were never intended for him to see.