It would take some serious troubleshooting, but I’m sure we could get the humans to cross paths.”
“And then what?”
Craig shrugged. “They start talking, sparks fly…romance follows?”
Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Even if your coding works—even if we can get the humans into the exact same spot at the exact same time—I think we still might be in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
Eliza paused, searching for a polite way to phrase her opinion. Eventually, she gave up.
“He’s gotten crazy fat,” she said.
Craig absentmindedly pinched his own love handles. “Sam’s only fifteen pounds overweight,” he said. “Twenty at most. It’s not like he’s obese or anything.”
“Granted. But think of it from her perspective.”
She opened up a clip of the humans’ last meeting. “The last time she saw him, he looked like this.” She pointed at Sam’s relatively svelte 2011 physique.
“Now she’s going to see him again and—boom! He’s gonna look like this.” She popped up a picture of Sam’s current state. “It’s drastic. ”
Craig winced. Eliza’s bar for male attractiveness was disturbingly high.
“He doesn’t look terrible,” Craig said. “He’s just a little fat.”
“He’s a lot fat.”
“It’s not his fault. I mean, he’s clearly going through some kind of depression. Lots of people eat poorly when they’re feeling down.”
“I’m not blaming him. I’m just saying we need to do something.”
She zoomed in on Sam’s torso.
“If Laura runs into him on the street, she’s not going to think, ‘Oh, great, here’s the guy I used to have a crush on.’ The only thought in her brain is going to be ‘Wow, how’d this happen? How’d he get like this?’ I’m sorry, but that’s just my opinion—as both an Angel and a woman.”
Craig threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you. We can’t just burn his fat off. It goes against the laws of thermodynamics.”
“Can we change the way he dresses? So the weight gain is less pronounced?”
“He’s got free will, Eliza. If he wants to wear khakis and a T-shirt, there’s nothing we can do to stop him.”
“Well, we’ve got to think of something.”
The Angels sat in silence, plotting their next move.
EARTH—TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS UNTIL DOOMSDAY
Sam was walking to the F train when he encountered a harsh gust of wind. The blast of air was so intense he had to stop in midstride and shield his face with his hands. A swirl of airborne garbage engulfed him— plastic bags, cigarette butts, and lotto tickets.
“Jesus Christ, ” he muttered to himself.
The draft eventually subsided, but one piece of trash remained stubbornly stuck to his coat—a small pink flyer. He plucked it off his chest and idly began to read it.
Join Crunch Fitness today! Full-service gym. Sign up now for a free one-month trial.
He glanced at the flyer for a moment, reflecting that the gym was just a block or so from his apartment.
“What a coincidence,” he mumbled.
He folded the flyer a few times and then flicked it into a nearby garbage can.
Craig and Eliza sighed. It had taken them four hours to locate the flyer, blow it across the sidewalk, and successfully glide it onto Sam’s body. But still the human had failed to take the hint.
“I really thought that would work,” Eliza said. “I mean, how often does a gym coupon fly into your face? It’s not like we were being subtle.”
“It’s hard to give the humans signs,” Craig told her. “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they miss them. It doesn’t matter how blunt you are.”
“Really?”
Craig nodded. “They’re just not a perceptive species. Remember Archduke Ferdinand? The guy they shot to start World War One? Angels sent him fifty omens on the morning of his assassination to try to warn him. He ignored them all.”
“Seriously? What kind of omens?”
Craig closed his eyes and listed a
“And then what?”
Craig shrugged. “They start talking, sparks fly…romance follows?”
Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Even if your coding works—even if we can get the humans into the exact same spot at the exact same time—I think we still might be in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
Eliza paused, searching for a polite way to phrase her opinion. Eventually, she gave up.
“He’s gotten crazy fat,” she said.
Craig absentmindedly pinched his own love handles. “Sam’s only fifteen pounds overweight,” he said. “Twenty at most. It’s not like he’s obese or anything.”
“Granted. But think of it from her perspective.”
She opened up a clip of the humans’ last meeting. “The last time she saw him, he looked like this.” She pointed at Sam’s relatively svelte 2011 physique.
“Now she’s going to see him again and—boom! He’s gonna look like this.” She popped up a picture of Sam’s current state. “It’s drastic. ”
Craig winced. Eliza’s bar for male attractiveness was disturbingly high.
“He doesn’t look terrible,” Craig said. “He’s just a little fat.”
“He’s a lot fat.”
“It’s not his fault. I mean, he’s clearly going through some kind of depression. Lots of people eat poorly when they’re feeling down.”
“I’m not blaming him. I’m just saying we need to do something.”
She zoomed in on Sam’s torso.
“If Laura runs into him on the street, she’s not going to think, ‘Oh, great, here’s the guy I used to have a crush on.’ The only thought in her brain is going to be ‘Wow, how’d this happen? How’d he get like this?’ I’m sorry, but that’s just my opinion—as both an Angel and a woman.”
Craig threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you. We can’t just burn his fat off. It goes against the laws of thermodynamics.”
“Can we change the way he dresses? So the weight gain is less pronounced?”
“He’s got free will, Eliza. If he wants to wear khakis and a T-shirt, there’s nothing we can do to stop him.”
“Well, we’ve got to think of something.”
The Angels sat in silence, plotting their next move.
EARTH—TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS UNTIL DOOMSDAY
Sam was walking to the F train when he encountered a harsh gust of wind. The blast of air was so intense he had to stop in midstride and shield his face with his hands. A swirl of airborne garbage engulfed him— plastic bags, cigarette butts, and lotto tickets.
“Jesus Christ, ” he muttered to himself.
The draft eventually subsided, but one piece of trash remained stubbornly stuck to his coat—a small pink flyer. He plucked it off his chest and idly began to read it.
Join Crunch Fitness today! Full-service gym. Sign up now for a free one-month trial.
He glanced at the flyer for a moment, reflecting that the gym was just a block or so from his apartment.
“What a coincidence,” he mumbled.
He folded the flyer a few times and then flicked it into a nearby garbage can.
Craig and Eliza sighed. It had taken them four hours to locate the flyer, blow it across the sidewalk, and successfully glide it onto Sam’s body. But still the human had failed to take the hint.
“I really thought that would work,” Eliza said. “I mean, how often does a gym coupon fly into your face? It’s not like we were being subtle.”
“It’s hard to give the humans signs,” Craig told her. “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they miss them. It doesn’t matter how blunt you are.”
“Really?”
Craig nodded. “They’re just not a perceptive species. Remember Archduke Ferdinand? The guy they shot to start World War One? Angels sent him fifty omens on the morning of his assassination to try to warn him. He ignored them all.”
“Seriously? What kind of omens?”
Craig closed his eyes and listed a
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