Dear God,
Please accept this letter as my formal notice of resignation from Heaven, effective immediately.
“Are you writing your resignation letter…. Again?”
Amaris sits at his desk. His typewriter in front of him, the very top of the paper rising from its top. His fingers hover just above the cold metallic keys. He’s staring at what he’s written as if by magic the typewriter will finish the letter for him, pat him on the back and tell him he’s making the right choice.
His officemate, Balthus, sits at his own desk proofreading a stack of printed brochures titled, “So You Want To Answer Prayers?”
“How could you tell?” asks Amaris.
“Well,” Balthus responds with a sigh, “I heard you start and stop typing 2 hours ago and you’ve been staring at that paper ever since. You’ve been doing this since creation. It’s sort of easy to figure out at this point.”
They’re not wrong. Amaris has been writing this letter since humans began walking the earth. They’ll write this one line, tear it up and throw it away. Everytime.
But can you blame them? Things used to be so much easier. The Angels would have parties, there were long vacations and everyone was happy. Those were the good old days.
But ever since Satan's split from the company and subsequent creation of man, things have been different. They’ve been answering prayers almost non stop since humans realized that’s a thing they could do. And since Angels don’t require sleep, there are barely any breaks.
“Don’t you get tired of the constant customer service?” asked Amaris as he turns in Balthus’ direction.
“No, because that’s what we’re here for. It’s our purpose.”
“But look at Hell. They get to wear whatever they want. They have client parties. Their offices are so much cooler than ours!”
Amaris is getting excited just thinking of being about Hell. They do seem to have much more fun than the Angels do with their rigid processes and strict codes of conduct. Hell has always positioned itself as the cool place to work. Their laid-back attitudes and comradery make it an appealing switch to make.
Balthus puts down his stack of brochures and turns to look at Amaris.
“Have you ever been to Hell, Amaris? They keep that place at an unbearable temperature. There’s fire everywhere. The sound of screaming is insufferable. And their office is an open floor plan. An OPEN FLOOR PLAN!”
It’s a well-known fact that one of Satan’s proudest moments is when he convinced a group of CEOs and architects that the open-office floor plan was a good idea. “It’ll improve collaboration and save on construction costs,” Satan would say. Of course we all knew the open floor plan was a terrible idea, but Satan is exceptional at what he does and human leadership is feeble-minded at best.
Amaris turns back to his typewriter, the paper still in its incomplete position. He lays his head in his hands.
“And did you refer to them as ‘client parties’?” Balthus asks, his eyes squinting in suspicion.
“I mean, someone is having fun during them,” responds Amaris.
“They’re torturing people, Amaris!”
“I know! But after this long of answering useless, self-indulgent prayers doesn’t torture sound a little appropriate?”
Balthus’ mouth hangs open in shock at Amaris' response. They’re searching for the best response and coming up empty. After watching their officemate consider becoming a demon every century or so there isn’t much that surprises them. Torture however, gets them everytime.
“Okay,” begins Balthus, “Let’s think about this decision one step at a time.”
Balthus rolls his office chair beside Amaris. They rest their forearms on their knees, their head hanging down, looking at the floor. As they lift their head Amaris turns to look at them. There is something about Amaris they had not noticed before. A pinkish glow of their skin, yellowing of their eyes, and two small bumps just below the hairline.
“You’ve already made the choice haven’t you, Amaris?”
Silence hangs in the air. Amaris and Balthus keep their gazes on each other -- Balthus’ in disappointment, Amaris’ in confident resignation.
“The letter is just a formality,” Amaris says. “I’ve already spoken with Satan and agreed to begin immediately.”
Balthus sighs, lowering his eyes to the floor.
“I’m going to miss you, Amaris.” Balthus raises his head back to meet Amaris eyes. “I had a feeling this day would eventually come. There are only so many times you can threaten to become a demon without actually becoming a demon.”
Amaris smiles and lets out a slight laugh through their nose.
“But I think you’re going to be happy as a demon and that’s what is important to me.”
Amaris and Balthus rise from their chairs, holding each other in a tight embrace. They separate, Balthus’ hands placed on Amaris’ shoulders. Tears streaming down the eyes of both Angel and Demon.
Balthus wipes their tears away using the arm of their robes. they give Amaris a nod and a smile.
“For what it’s worth, I hear we’ll be launching the Revelation campaign, so we’ll definitely be seeing more of each other soon.”