Tom Holt - The Management Style of the Supreme Beings

Three strands for the French hens, under the sky,

Seven for the swimming swans, my true love gave to me.

Nine for the gracious ladies dancing by,

A partridge for the Red Lord, in a pear tree.

Tinsel ensnares them all, tinsel entwines them,

Tinsel confounds them all and in the ice-floes binds them,

In the land of Kringl, where the reindeer fly.

D ad, as is tolerably well known, is omnipotent and can do anything. Some things, however, are more difficult than others, even for him; most notably, finding windows in his busy schedule for a little quality time with his dearly beloved son, with whom he is well pleased. On the rare occasions when they can fit it in, they like to go fishing together on Sinderaan, a small yellowy-red planet in the Argolis cluster. The problem, of course, is who they leave behind to mind the store.

In front of Dad the rainbow bridge sparkled with all the glory of light being ripped apart into its constituent themes. For the third time he stopped and turned back. Dont forget, he said. One rotation every twenty-four hours.

Yes, Dad.

Six hours of rain in Lithuania, Monday and Thursday morning.

Yes, Dad.

The keys to the thunderbolt cabinet are on the hook behind the bathroom door; dont use them unless you absolutely have to.

Kevin, the younger son of God, marginally less well beloved and with whom his father was not always quite so well pleased, stifled a yawn and pulled the collar of his dressing gown tight around his neck, because of the cold. Yes, Dad, he said. You told me already, about a zillion times. Its cool. I can handle it.

His father winced. If theres a problem, youve got my number.

Yes, Dad.

Just be careful, thats all. Think about what youre doing. And no parties.

Goodbye, Dad.

With a shrug, Dad turned, shouldered his backpack and rods and walked slowly up the rainbow to where Jay was waiting. If he was tempted to turn back one last time, he thought better of it. Before long, they were two tiny specks against the multicoloured curve, and then they were gone. Kevin sighed, pulled a face, wriggled his toes as deep into his slippers as theyd go and wandered back to the house. A light in an upstairs window of the east wing (the house had many mansions) told him that Uncle Ghost was awake, though the chances were that he wouldnt transubstantiate into anything fit to talk to until much later, after hed had his coffee and read the papers.

Six-thirty a.m., a ghastly time to be awake. Kevin sat down on the rocking chair on the stoop, stretched out his feet and turned on his LoganBerry. He was playing War in Heaven 3 (he was being Dad for a change; usually he was Uncle Nick) when a sharp cough behind him broke his concentration and made him jam the tablet in his dressing-gown pocket. Hi, Uncle Mike.

Hed been quick, but not quick enough to deceive an archangel. Uncle Mike didnt approve of War in Heaven 3 for some reason. Kevin. Have you got a moment?

Irony, except he was pretty sure Uncle Mike wasnt capable of it. All the time in the world. Something up?

Mike was frowning. Cusp in the causality flow. We need a policy decision.

What, from me?

Mike nodded sadly. Looks like it, doesnt it?

But Dad said it was all sorted out for the next three days. He said nothing was likely to come up.

Well, its no big deal, Uncle Mike said. Not a very big deal, anyhow. Youd better come inside and sort it out.

Dad said I wouldnt have to do any policy decisions.

Ah well. Mike shrugged. Mysterious ways, Kevin, mysterious ways. Come on if youre coming.

The interface console, where the individual case inputs were coordinated into the predestination stream, was a dingy shade of concrete-coloured plastic, and the lettering was starting to wear off the keyboard. Kevin had been on at Dad to upgrade to a higher-spec system for as long as he could remember; these old Kawaguchiya XP7740s belonged in a museum, hed said over and over again, what this outfit needs is the new Axio 347D StreamLine. He punched in the laughably archaic 3 -inch floppy that held the startup codes and waited for the shameful green letters to appear on the antiquated black screen. Pointless explaining to Dad that he had over ten times as much computing power on his phone than this entire system. Oh no. It had been good enough for dividing the waters which were under the firmament from the waters that were above the firmament, it worked just fine and he was used to it. A fan whirred. Kevin tapped his fingers on the desktop and stifled a yawn.