The chicken from Rehana had sated his hunger and the prayers had calmed him down. Masum bhai could finally assess the situation calmly. Emil’s apartment was far removed from the streets, so no noises from the apocalypse outside reached him. He, and his little room of prayer and meditation, existed in isolation and he thought about his fate in isolation, and came to the conclusion that he was either knee-deep in shit of crotch-deep in houri. He could not be sure which.
It all followed logically.
Fact: the good lord himself had chosen him to act as a vassal for his angel.
Fact: he had doubts about how successful he was in curbing the rogue angel Zarathustra. Question: was his task to stop or delay Zarathustra?
Fact: after all the fiasco that ensued, the good lord still gave him a glimpse of heaven. Question: to motivate or taunt?
He did not know, but Masum bhai was used to not knowing and fretting about it. He knew what he had to do.
He went down on his knees in front of Emil’s heaven-mobile, praying, searching for answers. Hours flew by. Civilizations burned, fell and crumbled. AI rocked on ahead. But Masum bhai prayed. Ruminated.
He was deep, deep into meditation when someone twisted the doorknob. Masum bhai turned around, remaining of his knees. The door was not locked and in walked a being of angelic beauty; no vassals or human host, a pure angelic being. She looked at him with suspicion, “Who are you and what are you doing here?” the angel asked, “This is Emil’s apartment!”
“He left it in my charge of here before departing.” Masum bhai said, softly, “You may pray with me until his return. I am faithfully certain that he will return in my lifetime.”
“You are not making any senses. Where is Emil?”
“He departed for greener pastures with his lead-houri and left me back this house. It is my room of meditation now.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you Masum?” the angel asked, “I have heard Emil talk about you before. Tell me what is going on. I warn you: tell me the truth and tell me everything and tell me now!”
Masum bhai felt like it was time for his final judgment. The lord had sent him an archangel to recount his tale.
This was his opportunity to get the record straight.
He took a deep breath, got up on his feet and approached the angel.
The angel was beautiful and so was the day outside; apart from the death and destruction of the infidels of course, but then again, even that was beautiful too; if you altered what is meant by beautiful altogether.
He had nothing to fear; he had done nothing wrong. He took the angel by her hand, sat her down on Emil’s bed and began recounting the tumultuous events of the last few days; the things he had been through and the things he had heard and seen and felt and things he knew with absolute certainty in his heart without having to perceive them with his senses.
He began to recount the gospel of Masum.