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Angels (or genies?) who grant a wish to every 1 in 10,000 dying children

a small number wish to get well, a smaller number than that are tracked down by the government in time and coerced into using the wish for {...}

angels in hiding, guerrilla-angelic warfare

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the devils use jury systems? parliaments? soviets? {devils vs.} demons ? {as} anarchists vs state-ists? in power/out of power? 

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spiritual warfare

on spiritual warfare

how do we wage a spiritual war on capitalism

materialism, idealism, spiritualism

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spiritualism as the progressive religion, the common sense religion, the civic religion, the presidents (consuls?) and tombs of the unknown soldiers? 

see Imagined Communities, Anderson

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iits so important to make the day real

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There are Realities within Realities

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angels made of light, devils made of materialism, gods made of idealism, spirits made of spirit, djinn made of fire, devilcrrats, demons, devils and demons and djinn and gheists and ghosts and spirits and souls, angels and arch-angels and avatars

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the aliens arrive in generation ships. they include a colonial administration envoy? the UN is enscripted into a colonial government? nation states, corporation,s religious governments…most of which are not super psyched

a couple ships are left behind, including one in rotation around the earth (originally in rotation around the moon) and the other which mostly stays in the lagrange points of mercury, from which it can most easily provide back up to the occupiers of the earth as well as the human satellites on the moon, around venus, on mars, and the moons of jupiter and saturn

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…

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angels travel in minds, space and consciousness?

battle for hearts and minds

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the devil IgkellimarH’hesiah was meditating in the gardens of the Heavenly Emperor. Three millena ago he was  a holy man in a village held by guerrilla fighters in rebelion against a colonial outpost. Currently he was a guest at the invitation of the Arch-Duke of the Holy Light, uncle-in-double-law to the current Emperor. The somber, small-faced toddler-god’s regency council had induced the boy to name his relation to Master of the Lord’s Office of the First Secreetariat of the Angels, Commander in Chief of the Choirs Invisible, Prince of of the High Heavens and Chairman of the Council of Devil’s Commisaars. shortly thereafter a quorum of ultra-orthodox Arch Angels flew through the Throne of Heaven at velocities on or around the speed of light and the thousand year process of selecting a new Godhead was forced to begin all over. 

the fate which such guest as Igkellimaar might look forward to varied from an appointment as Court Poet (an office recently vacated by a Marquise of the Absolute Void l to take up a Grand-Admirality position under the auspices of the Angelic Burreau of Information/Inteligence/Investiation), or to be marched as a captive-prince in a General’s triumph (such prisoners, only sometimes humiliatingly, were transformed into clients of their captors, who were from then onwards on the hook for the various expenses related to storing the clients in Heaven, until such a time as that Throne or Arch Imp sent an ifrit to collect every captive from every battle or skirmish they had ever been a part of, to be marched through however many heavens they had been honored with being heild as triumphator, before being sacrificed on the highest altar of said highest heaven to whatever patrons awaited the succor of their (the prisoners’) souls) or trouted out 28 generations later as pretender to a throne, or sacrificed on other altar and transformed into a god. 

if IgkellimarH’hesiah knew what Fate had in her storehouses for him, he gave neither sign nor shrug, marvel nor wonder nor act of damnation, to indicate what that future might be. perhaps he played his cards close to his chest, knowing that the great Majong games of the balconies of the Lapis Thronehalls obeyed their own physics of subversion and interruption and intervention, and that every card in every game had its time to be played. perhaps his meditations had liberated him once again, allowing him to return to the mountain camps where viral guerilla bases continued to recruit and reproduce themselves. terrori$ts must know how to be patient, and IgkellimarH’ Al-ohesiah had long studied the ways of terror. 

he was there, among the ten during Terror’s reign, with Reason and Revolution and Counter-Revolution. he was among the 12, when they lynched Judas, humiliated Peter, libled Thomas and anonymized John (or was it James?)

liberation and terror are spokes of the same wheel, that is what he preached under the Bodhi tree and the sign on the cross and from the mouth of the ravens who watched Odin die. 

the devil was meditating in the gardens of the Heavenly Emperor when his disciples approached him, diving just low enough and soaring just high to clear the floating post gates in the hanging pavilions.

they rushed to him, stoping only at the feet of the boy who took his messages. he would not suffer them to pass, and in his left hand he held a knife made of silence with which he was ready to disembowl himself as the condition by which he would let these tramping demons interrupt the sacred formulae IgkellimarH’hesiah now labored over. 

Six impossibly thin scars ran a perfect parallel across the boy’s stomach, for six times the devil had received messengers stained with his attendant’s blood, listening carefully to t he messages, considering every request and plea, only to destroy them with a violence merciful only in its brevity, and cause the boy’s organs to harmonize once again. most of the disciples now gathered at the acolyte’s feet had known copedagogs of theirs to have perished in one or two of those interruptions, a few had even stayed back in the fountains of youth, which could not touch the eternal fires of their being, and seen the carnage themselves.

they did not desire to add their eternal heat to the mending of a seventh such scar, but it could not be helpd.

they pled their case to the boy himself, who silently nodded his head, neither in agreement nor acquiescence. for lifetimes he had trained for, meditated for, prayed for the honor of sanctum acolyte. failure was still possible, but incomprehensible. 

whether the destruction was punitive, the result of an interruption during the actualization of a critical formula, or something else wouldn’t change the outcome of the armageddon thereby unleashed, and since no one had ever bothered to tell the boy the inner details of the eschatological mechanics, he had no choice but to not think about the matter, or to lie to himself that wasn’t actually thinking about it.

eventually, however, he would get an answer. if he was right to not permit the demons past, and if they did not destroy him in their frantic race to their master’s side, then his lord would show mercy on him and destroy him alongside all creation. but if he should have given them what they asked for, then the devil would stay its hand at the place where they boy stood, and condemn him only to the agony of observing, for the last remaining eternity, to overseeing the accidents of his selfishness. 

without even savoring the moment, without even thinking about it, he raised the knife and brought it down on himself. the alternative was absolute: deny the demons their appointment and they would race to the side of their lord anyway. at their pleading he would awake and destroy the world and the boy would have no choice but to watch. 

from the outrushing blood a crow plucked a sprig of silver mistletoe and flew a little ways, or perhaps it was for all of time, to the pagoda on a bridge of burning bones over cliffs of jade and water so cold it was actually powdered ice. the incense-masters in the pagoda took the bleeding misletowwe and ground it into a fine powder which they used to cover the stalk of a certain herb, which they lit on certain altars.

within scentdistancce of those altars, 666 monks were in the deepest pits, the highest poles, the innermost torturechambers of enlightenment. from these abodes they read the smoke signals. and from the processes of their conscious thought, the devil IgkellimarH a’hejsiah also received the alarm.

there was another possibility. if the boy killed himself and it turned out he should have turned the devils aside , then he and all his family, and all of his reincarnations for all time, and everyone he ever met or knew or knew of, would be resurrected, tried, and convicted of mundocide, as not allerting IgkellimaarH might lead to the demons interupting the meditation which might in turn lead to the end of the world.

there was always the possibility that if he turned away the demons they might not dare interrupt the diabolic sage. but if they did and he should have permitted them, the death of the world and destruction of his line. if they did and he shouldn’t have, merely the death of the world. if he did and he should have, he would be rewarded with resuming service. and if he did and shouldn’t have, then the demons would find themselves justly punished and both his line and the world would be safe. it was not a difficult calculation to make.

out of the fundemendtal formulas the devil IgkellimarH’hesiah unwound himself, and at the end of the evening twenty days later, he popped his joints back into place, collected his tendrils of consciousness, organized his limbs into a workable economy of motion, and descended the steps of the hanging gardens to the plateau messa terrace where his disciples brought word to him. 

IgkellimarH’hesiah gave him leave to descend to the base camp. “my children, you are troubled. lay your concerns at my feet.” 

many were the acolytes who took on extremely conservative, self-destructive personality patterns and political tendancies, coupled with shrewd forensic analysis and negotiative brinkmanship, since the best course of action for him, his line, his world, and the demons bearing the message themselves.

“Teacheeer, a letter has been delivered for you, it begs your leave to have you fetched from the Emperor’s hospitality that you might be installed as a commissar in a meeting of a council of commissars. enclosed is your profile: you have been named Inquisitar of Armageden. 

the devil bowed. “of what world does this aarmageden pertain?”

“lord,” the lead spokesman groveled. “it is the armageddon of all worlds.”