Chapter 11: The Remedial Goodness Incident

                                    

                                          
November 29, 2006
4:05 P.M.
My apartment
Do you know what's worse than dealing with human middle-schoolers?
Dealing with human middle-schoolers while you are exhausted from no sleep, terrified the demon you shouldn't be helping might have been tortured again, and worried about an impending call with your archangel superior, to whom you plan to ask a few innocent, probing questions.
That's what.
4:08 P.M.
To be fair, today wasn't nearly as bad as my harrowing first day with the Youth Program.
I knew better than to play the youngsters choir music, for one thing.
And the other volunteers knew better than to leave me in a room alone with twenty of them all at once. 
Which meant I got to go around and make friends with smaller groups of kids. It was almost... dare I say... fun?
Some of them just wanted to show off. They told me about the sports they liked, they showed me their gymnastics moves, and one of them spent awhile telling me every single fact he knew about the hawks in Central Park. 
Then there was a quieter kid all alone in a corner, who I felt rather bad for. We played a game together, and she seemed at least a little happier when I left. 
It was almost a welcome distraction.
4:13 P.M.
But now, the wait is over.
I can finally call Archangel Ramiel. 
And put these ridiculous doubts to an end!
4:38 P.M.
...
...
...Well.
That was thoroughly unhelpful.
...
...
At least he didn't yell at me. 
4:41 P.M.
I tried to be smart this time, Diary. I started by telling him about my volunteer work with the Youth Program, and how much better my attempts at converting souls had gone today, thanks to his earlier advice. That sort of thing tends to put him in a good mood, which is exactly what I wanted before I launched into my question.
"Archangel Ramiel," I began, "one of the young people in the program was talking about her baby brother being born, and it got me to thinking."
"I hope this will not be a question about why angels don't reproduce in the same manner as humans," he sighed. "The Heavenly Father created us, Nirael, with his own hands, to fill the world with Goodness and Light."
"I know that," I said hurriedly. "I guess I just... I wanted to hear more about it. What was it like when you were made? Do you remember seeing Him?"
He took awhile to respond, so long that a shiver began to creep across my spine. I hoped I hadn't offended him. It was so unpredictable, sometimes, what sorts of things could set him off.
"It was my first and most miraculous memory," he said finally. "Nothing else compares to it." I knew from the reverence in his words that he meant it. His tone was awed and hushed; it lacked the disapproval that had shrouded our conversations lately. "He told me and the other angels to go forth into the world and do Good. And so I have striven, all my days."