the facial thaw trick, melting into an extraordinarily beautiful young person of indeterminate gender. Now worthy of the pronoun, it tucked its rotor blades into its back and smiled a disconsolate smile. Rajandra Das felt a needle of sympathy prick his heart. He knew how it felt to be in a place he had not chosen to be. He knew how it felt to be pissed on by life.
"Anything else, mortal?" asked the angel wearily.
"Hey hey hey man, not so touchy. I'm on your side, honest. Tell me, how come you can't bust out of this cage with one flick of your pinky finger? I was taught angels were pretty powerful things."
The angel leaned confidentially against the bars of its cage.
"I'm only an angel, Fifth Rank of the Heavenly Host, not one of the big shots like PHARIOSTER or TELEMEGON; they're the most recent models; First Orders, Archangelsks; they can do just about damn anything, but we angels, we were the first, we were the Blessed Lady's prototypes and she improved the design with each succeeding model: Avatas, Lorarchs, Cher-aphs, Archangelsks."
"Hold on, hold on, you saying you were made?"
"We all get made, mortal, one way or another. My point is, we angels are designed to run on solar power, that's why Adam Black keeps this cage in darkness, otherwise I might be able to charge up enough sunpower to sunder these bars. Though," the angel added dolefully, "we angels are primarily designed for flight, not fight; most of my strength is channelled through my rotors."
"So what if I opened all the curtains?"
"Adam Black comes and closes them again. Thanks for the thought, mortal, but it would take about three weeks of constant sunshine for me to regain my full angelic might."
Adam Black put his head round the door and said, "Time's up. Come on out." He looked sternly at the angel. "You been keeping them talking again? I've told you to keep it short."
"Hey hey hey, what's the rush?" protested Rajandra Das. "There's no one after me and we were just getting to an interesting stage in the conversation. One minute more, all right?"
"Oh, okay." Adam Black withdrew to count his takings: six dollars fifty centavos, a chicken, three bottles of peapod wine, and two honeycombs.
"All right, tell me more, man," said Rajandra Das. "Like how you came to be in this here cage in the first place."
"Simple carelessness. There I was in the Great Company of the Blessed Lady, parading over some ten centavo High Plains town called Frenchmanwe do that from time to time, make like a big circus parade, keeps mortals mindful of higher things, like who made the world, and anyway, the Blessed Lady's got this new policy of direct intervention with organic beings. Well, it was a pretty big show and what with the Great Powers and Dominions and the Spiritual Menagerie and the Big Blue Plymouth and the Rider on the Many-Headed Beast and all that, it took the best part of a day for it to pass over. I was in the final wave and what with all that waiting around I was getting pretty bored, and bored angels get careless. Next thing I knew, I'd flown smack into the high-voltage section of the Frenchman microwave link. Stunned me. Clear blew my fuses. Kayoed. Mortals cut me down and stuck me in this cage in a cellar and fed me cornpone and beer. Any idea what it's like to be an alcoholic angel? I kept telling them I was solar powered, but they couldn't take it in. Mortals were wondering what they could do with an angel from the Heavenly Host, when along came Adam Black and bought me and my cage for fifteen golden dollars."
"Well, what about trying to escape?" suggested Rajandra Das, thinking evil thoughts.
"No lock. We are good with machinery, I'll say that for us, any lock on that cage I could pick, but that Adam Black knows his hagiography, for when I had regained my strength and grown new circuits, he had this door all welded up."
"That's bad," said Rajandra Das, remembering holes under Meridian Main Station. "No one should ever be in a cage because of a
"Anything else, mortal?" asked the angel wearily.
"Hey hey hey man, not so touchy. I'm on your side, honest. Tell me, how come you can't bust out of this cage with one flick of your pinky finger? I was taught angels were pretty powerful things."
The angel leaned confidentially against the bars of its cage.
"I'm only an angel, Fifth Rank of the Heavenly Host, not one of the big shots like PHARIOSTER or TELEMEGON; they're the most recent models; First Orders, Archangelsks; they can do just about damn anything, but we angels, we were the first, we were the Blessed Lady's prototypes and she improved the design with each succeeding model: Avatas, Lorarchs, Cher-aphs, Archangelsks."
"Hold on, hold on, you saying you were made?"
"We all get made, mortal, one way or another. My point is, we angels are designed to run on solar power, that's why Adam Black keeps this cage in darkness, otherwise I might be able to charge up enough sunpower to sunder these bars. Though," the angel added dolefully, "we angels are primarily designed for flight, not fight; most of my strength is channelled through my rotors."
"So what if I opened all the curtains?"
"Adam Black comes and closes them again. Thanks for the thought, mortal, but it would take about three weeks of constant sunshine for me to regain my full angelic might."
Adam Black put his head round the door and said, "Time's up. Come on out." He looked sternly at the angel. "You been keeping them talking again? I've told you to keep it short."
"Hey hey hey, what's the rush?" protested Rajandra Das. "There's no one after me and we were just getting to an interesting stage in the conversation. One minute more, all right?"
"Oh, okay." Adam Black withdrew to count his takings: six dollars fifty centavos, a chicken, three bottles of peapod wine, and two honeycombs.
"All right, tell me more, man," said Rajandra Das. "Like how you came to be in this here cage in the first place."
"Simple carelessness. There I was in the Great Company of the Blessed Lady, parading over some ten centavo High Plains town called Frenchmanwe do that from time to time, make like a big circus parade, keeps mortals mindful of higher things, like who made the world, and anyway, the Blessed Lady's got this new policy of direct intervention with organic beings. Well, it was a pretty big show and what with the Great Powers and Dominions and the Spiritual Menagerie and the Big Blue Plymouth and the Rider on the Many-Headed Beast and all that, it took the best part of a day for it to pass over. I was in the final wave and what with all that waiting around I was getting pretty bored, and bored angels get careless. Next thing I knew, I'd flown smack into the high-voltage section of the Frenchman microwave link. Stunned me. Clear blew my fuses. Kayoed. Mortals cut me down and stuck me in this cage in a cellar and fed me cornpone and beer. Any idea what it's like to be an alcoholic angel? I kept telling them I was solar powered, but they couldn't take it in. Mortals were wondering what they could do with an angel from the Heavenly Host, when along came Adam Black and bought me and my cage for fifteen golden dollars."
"Well, what about trying to escape?" suggested Rajandra Das, thinking evil thoughts.
"No lock. We are good with machinery, I'll say that for us, any lock on that cage I could pick, but that Adam Black knows his hagiography, for when I had regained my strength and grown new circuits, he had this door all welded up."
"That's bad," said Rajandra Das, remembering holes under Meridian Main Station. "No one should ever be in a cage because of a
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