Murder Mysteries A Play For Voices
Author: Neil Gaiman
Date: 1992-10-02T07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Graphic Novels; Fantasy; Comics; Mystery; Fiction; Short Stories; Graphic Novels Comics; Comic Book; Angels; Religion
Description: In Heaven's City of Angels before the fall, the first crime has been committed: an Angel has been murdered. While the Angelic Hosts labor to create the universe, one of their number is mysteriously slain by one of their own. Raguel, Angel of Vengeance, is commanded to discover both motive and murderer... While in contemporary Los Angeles, an Englishman learns a dark story of love and consequences.

Murder Mysteries
by Neil Gaiman

Smashwords Edition

Biting Dog Publications

Duluth, Georgia

2011

— | — | —

Murder Mysteries copyright by Neil Gaiman

Artwork copyright by George Walker

This digital edition copyright 2011 by Biting Dog Press

For performance rights requests please contact

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Published in the United States by

Biting Dog Publications

2150 Northmont Pkwy, Suite H

Duluth, GA 30096
www.bitingdogpress.com

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FOREWORD

Years ago, when I was 7 and 8 and 9, my family piled into the station wagon for weekend-long road trips, and as we rolled down one interstate after another, we listened to cassettes of old-time radio shows, like The Shadow, Suspense, Fibber McGee and Molly, and Abbot and Costello. I knew then, riding in the dark, huddled in the backseat, alone, connected, adrift in the worlds’ of children’s imaginations from 30 and 40 years before, that this was what I wanted to do with my life. Being a child of the 1970’s, I’d grown up on television, video games, and Star Wars, but nothing had so captured my imagination as these old shows, crackling through the void, through time. I wanted to write, direct, produce and star in old-time radio shows.

“But son” my father dutifully explained, “they don’t do radio drama anymore, they haven’t done it since before I was a kid.”

One of the thrills of my life has been to prove him wrong. In 1996, I was fortunate enough to land at SCIFI.COM, where I founded Seeing Ear Theatre (www.scifi.com/set)

My goal has been to provide a home for new-time expressions of audio drama. To use new plays, new stories to turn on a whole new audience to this art form.

But why audio drama? Why not just do stage plays, or TV programs, or better yet, films…? The power of the audio drama is unique among electronic forms of story-telling. It’s power is felt on a deeply personal level – the act of listening is more similar to the act of reading than it is to watching. When you curl up with a good book, you give birth to the world and the characters that inhabit that world. They belong to you. When you read, you are engaged in a creative process, but when you go to see a film, or watch TV, you sit passively, digesting some else’s vision, someone else’s world… Imagine for a moment teaching this classroom exercise: Ask the students to listen to a bit of The Shadow, and then ask them to do a drawing of the lead character. You will get 25 different pictures, all of them right, all of them individual creations. Now play a clip from one of their favorite TV shows, The Simpsons for example, and ask them to draw a picture of Bart Simpson, and you will get 20 different representations of what’s already there on the screen, some of them better than others, better copies of what they see. One exercise is a creative act, the other is not. The imagination is like a muscle; if we fail to inspire it to exercise, it will atrophy, become limp, and useless.

In 1998 I picked up a copy of Neil Gaiman’s short story collection Smoke And Mirrors, and was instantly drawn to “Murder Mysteries.” As I read I could hear the play unfolding in its myriad layers. I could imagine the rich sonic possibilities of creating the sounds of the City of Angels. What does the Hall of Being feel like, and what of the squadron of Lucifer’s angels practicing their war games – what do they sound like? But even more than the sound possibilities, I was drawn, hooked by Neil’s use of two narrators to tell the story. From the beginning of the medium, radio drama has relied (sometimes too frequently) on the role of the narrator, the truthsayer guiding us through the story, holding our hands. But not here, not in Murder Mysteries. Neil plays with our sense of trust, our sense of complacency… He yanks us back and forth between two tellers, never letting us get too comfortable with either one.

We recorded the voices Murder Mysteries in one long day in the summer of 1998, then I went home and crashed, wondering if we’d got it all, hoping that we’d done justice to the play… Brian Dennehy, who plays Raguel, the Angel of Vengeance, was deep into his Tony-Award winning turn as Willie Loman in Death of a Salesman. I can only imagine how exhausted he was after that particular evening’s performance. I then spent two weeks at John Colucci, my sound designer’s house, living, eating, drinking, sleeping, and dreaming this wicked, delirious tale.

As you read through the script for the first time, ask yourself how you’d make the worlds sound, what type of music you’d use, what type of actors you’d cast, and then log on to our website and give a listen to our production. I’ll bet it’s nothing like the one in your head – but then, that’s the power of the imagination, isn’t it?

Brian Smith

January, 2001

Character List

Narrator ~ tells story

Carasel ~ angel who is murdered

Tinkerbell Richmond (Tink) ~ Narrators girlfriend

Friend ~ Tink’s friend Dorothy

Raquel (Then & Now) ~ angel of vengeance

Phanuel – senior designer

Angel #1 ~ works under Phanuel

Angel #2 ~ works under Phanuel

Lucifer ~ captain of the host

Saraquael ~ Carasel’s partner

Zephkiel ~ angel without wings

Passenger ~ on plane with Narrator

Flight Attendant ~ on plane with Narrator

SILENCE. JUST THE WIND, AND A TINKLING, CRYSTALLINE MUSIC, LIKE WIND-CHIMES. WE’RE VERY HIGH UP...

CARASEL

This is madness. You don’t understand... please, just...

(whispering)

No. For the love of God, no.

(loudly)

No!

(cut off as he is stabbed)

THERE’S A LOUD THUD, AND THEN THE SOUND OF BEATING WINGS, AND A SCREAMING AS THE ANGEL FALLS, DYING, FALLING, WAILING. THEN A DULL SPLAT AS IT HITS THE SIDEWALK, AND THEN JUST SILENCE: ONLY THE WIND.

INTO THE SILENCE, THE OPENING CREDITS ARE READ. AT THE END OF THE CREDITS...

NARRATOR

This is all true.

(beat)

Ten years ago, give or take a year, I found myself on an enforced stopover in Los Angeles, a long way from home. It was December, and the California weather was warm and pleasant. England, however, was in the grip of fogs and snow storms, and no planes were landing there. Each day I'd phone the airport, and each day I'd be told to wait another day. This had gone on for almost a week.

(pause. remembering, explaining)

I was barely out of my teens. Looking around today at the parts of my life left over from those days, I feel uncomfortable, as if I've received a gift, unasked, from another person: a house, a wife, children, a vocation. Nothing to do with me, I could say, innocently. If it's true that every seven years each cell in your body dies and is replaced, then I have truly inherited my life from a dead man; and the misdeeds of those times have been forgiven, and are buried with his bones.

(beat: he just said more than he meant to)

I was in Los Angeles. Yes.

On the sixth day I received a message from an old sort-of-girlfriend from Seattle: she was in LA too, and she had heard I was around on the friends-of-friends network. Would I come over?

/SFX/ A PHONE RINGING, THEN AN ANSWERING MACHINE CUTS IN:

TINK

(on machine)

Hi. This is Tink. You know what to do and you know just how to do it.

/SFX/ THE BEEP.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Hi. Tink? It’s me. I’d love to see you. Yes.

NARRATOR

I left a message on her machine. Sure.

That evening: a small, blonde woman approached me, as I came out of the place I was staying. It was already dark. She stared at me, as if she were trying to match me to a description, and then, hesitantly, she said,

FRIEND

Are you Tink's friend? The guy she met in England?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

That’d be me, yes.

FRIEND

I’m her room-mate. Car's out back. C'mon: she's really looking forward to seeing you.

/SFX/CROSS-FADE SOUNDS OF LA WITH...

/SFX/ INTERIOR. MOVING CAR (OLD OLDSMOBILE UNDER)

NARRATOR

Her car was one of the huge old boat-like jobs you only ever seem to see in California. It smelled of cracked and flaking leather upholstery. We drove out from wherever we were to wherever we were going.

FRIEND

So how did you meet Tink?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Bit of a cliche. We met in a pub, actually.

FRIEND

Yeah. I knew that already. She told me. I said, you’re crazy, you don’t know anything about him, she said, Dorothy, he’s English. I said, no offence hon, Jack the Ripper was English.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

(amused) Thanks. How far away is her house? I’m afraid I’m lost already.

FRIEND

It’s a big city.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Well, yes, but so’s London, or Paris, or New York, and I never seem to get lost in them. I suppose it’s because you can walk around them, or catch a subway. But LA doesn’t seem to work without a car.

FRIEND

They’re building a subway. I don’t know who’s going to take it.

SHE STARTS TO SING A SONG WE CAN GET PERMISSION FOR THAT MIGHT BE APPROPRIATE -- PROBABLY “HARK THE HERALD ANGELS SING...” AS IT’S NEARLY CHRISTMAS...

/SFX/THE CAR FADES INTO THE BACKGROUND, UNDER...

NARRATOR

Los Angeles was at that time a complete mystery to me; and I cannot say I understand it much better now. Memories of LA for me are linked by rides in other people's cars, with no sense there of the shape of the city, of the relationships between the people and the place. The regularity of the roads, the repetition of structure and form, mean that when I try to remember it as an entity all I have is the boundless profusion of tiny lights I saw one night on my first trip to the city, from the hill of Griffith Park. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, from that distance...

FRIEND

(finishes singing)

“... you got your good things and I got mine...” Hey. Hey, Jack the Ripper. See that building?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

That red one?

FRIEND

(with respect and pride)

Art deco. Built in the 1930s. Hard to believe it’s still here today, huh?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

(drily) 1930s? Gosh.

FRIEND

Wish I’d been around back then.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

You’ve never been to England, have you?

FRIEND

No. Why?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

No reason.

NARRATOR

I said something polite, trying to comprehend a city inside which fifty years could be considered a long time.

FRIEND

That one there, that’s one of my favorites. It’s the original Brown Derby building.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

It’s shaped like a hat. How far to Tink’s place from here?

FRIEND

No more than 15 minutes. Tink's real excited. When she heard you were in town. She was so excited.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I'm looking forward to seeing her again too.

NARRATOR

Tink's real name was Tinkerbell Richmond. No lie. She was staying with friends in small apartment clump, somewhere about half an hours' drive from downtown LA. She was ten years older than me, in her early thirties; she had glossy black hair and red, puzzled lips, and very white skin, like Snow White in the fairy stories; the first time I met her I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Tink had been married for a while at some point in her life, and had a five-year old daughter called Susan. I had never met Susan - when Tink had been in England, Susan had been staying on in Seattle, with her father.

(beat)

People named Tinkerbell name their daughters Susan.

/SFX/ SOUNDS OF THE CAR FADE OUT SLOWLY, UNDER...

/MUS/ SCATTERED MEMORIES, DARK RECURRING THEME, UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

Memory is the great deceiver. Perhaps there are some individuals whose memories act like tape recordings, daily records of their lives complete in every detail, but I am not one of them. My memory is a patchwork of occurences, of discontinuous events roughly sewn together: the parts I remember, I remember precisely, whilst other sections seem to have vanished completely.

(BEAT)

I do not remember arriving at Tink's house, nor where her flatmate went.

/SFX/ INT. OF TINK’S HOUSE; RADIO IN BACKGROUND, UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

What I remember next is sitting in Tink's lounge, with the lights low; the two of us next to each other, on the sofa.

TINK

You look wonderful.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Well, so do you. You look amazing.

TINK

Jesus. How long has it been? Oh, never mind that, let me look at you... (they ad lib, under...)

NARRATOR

We made small talk. It had been perhaps a year since we had seen one another. But a twenty-two year-old boy has little to say to a thirty-two year-old woman, and soon, having nothing in common, I pulled her to me.

/SFX/ TINK AND THE NARRATOR ARE MAKING OUT ON THE SOFA...AD LIB...UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

She snuggled close with a kind of sigh, and presented her lips to be kissed. In the half-light her lips were black. We kissed for a little, and I stroked her breasts through her blouse, on the couch.

TINK

Honey, we can't have sex. I've got my period.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Fine.

TINK

I can give you a blowjob, if you'd like.

NARRATOR

I nodded assent, and she unzipped my jeans, and lowered her head to my lap.

After I had come, she got up and ran into the kitchen. I heard her spitting into the sink, and the sound of running water: I remember wondering why she did it, if she hated the taste that much. Then she returned and we sat next to each other on the couch.

TINK

Susan's upstairs, asleep. She's all I live for. Would you like to see her?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I don't mind.

/SFX/ -- UP THE STAIRS. INTO A ROOM.

NARRATOR

We went upstairs. Tink led me into a darkened bedroom. There were child-scrawl pictures all over the walls -- wax-crayoned drawings of winged fairies and little palaces -- and a small, fair-haired girl was asleep in the bed.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I love the drawings. Did she do them?

TINK

Yes. My little angel. She loves drawing. Isn’t she beautiful? She takes after her father.

/SFX/RADIO IN THE BACKGROUND, UNDER...

NARRATOR

We went downstairs. We had nothing else to say, nothing else to do. Tink turned on the main light. For the first time I noticed tiny crows' feet at the corners of her eyes, incongruous on her perfect, Barbie-doll face.

TINK

I love you. I really, really love you.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Thank you.

TINK

Would you like a ride back?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

If you don't mind leaving Susan alone...?

NARRATOR

She shrugged, and I pulled her to me for the last time.

(beat)

At night, Los Angeles is all lights. And shadows.

/MUS & SFX/ SCATTERED MEMORIES SOUND FX SUDDENLY UP AND OUT. MUSIC CONTINUES UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

A blank, here, in my mind. I simply don't remember what happened next. She must have driven me back to the place where I was staying -- how else would I have gotten there? I do not even remember kissing her goodbye. Perhaps I simply waited on the sidewalk and watched her drive away.

(beat)

Perhaps.

(beat)

I do know, however, that once I reached the place I was staying I just stood there, unable to go inside, to wash and then to sleep, unwilling to do anything else.

/SFX/ LOS ANGELES STREET SOUNDS IN BACKGROUND: AN AURAL COLLAGE – DISTANT TRAFFIC, DISTANT RADIOS...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

I was not hungry. I did not want alcohol. I did not want to read, or talk. I was scared of walking too far, in case I became lost, bedeviled by the repeating motifs of Los Angeles, spun around and sucked in so I could never find my way home again. Central Los Angeles sometimes seems to me to be nothing more than a pattern, like a set of repeating blocks: a gas station, a few homes, a mini-mall and repeat until hypnotised; and the tiny changes in the mini-malls and the houses only serve to reinforce the structure.

(beat)

I thought of Tink's lips. Then I fumbled in a pocket of my jacket, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

/SFX/HE LIGHTS A CIGARETTE AND BLOWS SMOKE.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

I lit one, inhaled, blew blue smoke into the warm night air.

/SFX/ HIS FOOTSTEPS START, ON THE CONCRETE. SLOW, MEANDERING, GOING NOWHERE.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

There was a stunted palm tree growing outside the place I was staying, and I resolved to walk for a way, keeping the tree in sight, to smoke my cigarette, perhaps even to think; but I felt too drained to think. I felt very sexless, and very alone.

(pause)

A block or so down the road there was a bench, and when I reached it I sat down. I threw the stub of the cigarette onto the pavement, hard, and watched it shower orange sparks.

RAGUEL NOW

Hey. Hey pal. I'll buy a cigarette off you. Here.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Jesus. You startled me. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.

NARRATOR

He did not look old, although I would not have been prepared to say how old he was. Late thirties, perhaps. Mid forties. He wore a long, shabby coat, colorless under the yellow street lamps, and his eyes were dark.

RAGUEL NOW

Here. A quarter. 25 cents for a smoke. Take it. That's a good price.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Keep your money. It's free. Have it.'

NARRATOR

He took the cigarette. I passed him a book of matches (it advertised a telephone sex line; I remember that), and he lit the cigarette.

/SFX/ A MATCH IS STRUCK, A CIGARETTE LIT.

RAGUEL NOW

Here.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Keep them. I always wind up accumulating books of matches in America. You people just give them away. Where I come from you have to pay for them.

RAGUEL NOW

That a fact, huh?

NARRATOR

He sat on the bench beside me and smoked his cigarette. When he had smoked it half-way down, he tapped the lighted end off on the concrete, stubbed out the glow, and placed the butt of the cigarette behind his ear.

RAGUEL NOW

I don't smoke much. A pity to waste it, though.

/SFX/ A SPEEDING CAR CAREENS DOWN THE STREET. A RADIO BLARES A ROCK SONG -- THAT DEEP BASS THUMP OF A CAR STEREO. BRIEFLY WE CAN HEAR THE SHOUTING VOICES IN THE CAR. “GARY YOU ASSHOLE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ON, MAN?” A SQUEAL OF BRAKES.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Idiots. Did you see that? They could have killed someone.

RAGUEL NOW

I owe you.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Sorry?

RAGUEL NOW

I owe you something. For the cigarette. And the matches. You wouldn't take the money. I owe you.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

No, really, it's just a cigarette. I figure, if I give people cigarettes, then if ever I'm out, maybe people will give me cigarettes. (chuckles) Don't worry about it.

RAGUEL NOW

You’re English, right?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Yes.

RAGUEL NOW

That’s that thing the English do, where they say something like it’s a joke, even though they mean it. So. You want to hear a story? True story? Stories always used to be good payment. These days... not so much.

NARRATOR

I sat back on the bench, and the night was warm, and I looked at my watch: it was almost one in the morning. In England a freezing new day would already have begun: a work-day would be starting for those who could beat the snow and get into work; another handful of old people, and those without homes, would have died, in the night, from the cold.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Sure. Why not? Tell me a story.

RAGUEL NOW

(coughs, smoker’s cough, then,)

First thing I remember was the Word. And the Word was God. Sometimes, when I get really down, I remember the sound of the Word in my head, shaping me, forming me, giving me life.

/SFX/ THE SOUNDS OF LOS ANGELES CROSSFADE WITH

/SFX/THE SOUND OF RAGUEL’S AWAKENING, UNDER...

/MUS/THE WORD WAS GOD -- SILVER CITY THEME --

RAGUEL NARRATION

The Word gave me a body, gave me eyes. And I opened my eyes, and I saw the light of the Silver City. I was in a room -- a silver room -- and there wasn't anything in it except me. In front of me was a window, that went from floor to ceiling, open to the sky, and through the window I could see the spires of the City, and at the edge of the City, the Dark. I don't know how long I waited there. I wasn't impatient or anything, though. I remember that. It was like I was waiting until I was called; and I knew that some time I would be called. And if I had to wait until the end of everything, and never be called, why, that was fine too. But I'd be called, I was certain of that. And then I'd know my name, and my function.

/SFX/ DISTANT WHISPERS, CRYSTAL CHIMES, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

Through the window I could see silver spires, and in many of the other spires were windows; and in the windows I could see others like me. That was how I knew what I looked like. You wouldn't think it of me, seeing me now, but I was beautiful. I've come down in the world a way since then.

(beat)

I was taller then, and I had wings.

/SFX/STRETCHING AND FLAPPING OF WINGS FOR THE FIRST TIME

RAGUEL NARRATION

They were huge and powerful wings, with feathers the colour of mother-of-pearl. They came out from just between my shoulder-blades. They were so good. My wings...

/SFX/ SOUNDS AND MUSIC OF ANGELS IN FLIGHT, SWOOPING PAST; DISTANT CHIMES AND SOUNDS OF THE CITY OF ANGELS, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

Sometimes I'd see others like me, the ones who'd left their rooms, who were already fulfilling their duties. I'd watch them soar through the sky from spire to spire, performing errands I could barely imagine. The sky above the City was a wonderful thing. It was always light, although lit by no sun -- lit, perhaps by the City itself: but the quality of light was forever changing. Now pewter-coloured light, then brass, then a gentle gold, or a soft and quiet amethyst...

/SFX/ THE SOUNDS OF THE CITY OF THE ANGELS CUTS OUT AS:

RAGUEL NOW

You know what amethyst is? A kind of purple stone?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Yes. I know that.

NARRATOR

My crotch felt uncomfortable. It occurred to me then that the man might not be mad; I found this far more disquieting than the alternative.

RAGUEL NOW

I don't know how long it was that I waited, in my room. But time didn't mean anything. Not back then. We had all the time in the world.

/SFX/ LA CROSSFADES TO THE CITY OF ANGELS

RAGUEL NARRATION

The next thing that happened to me, was when the Angel Lucifer came to my cell. He was taller than me, and his wings were imposing, his plumage perfect. He had skin the colour of sea-mist, and curly silver hair, and these wonderful grey eyes...

/SFX/ MIX UP THE SOUNDS OF LA

RAGUEL NOW

I say he, but you should understand that none of us had any sex, to speak of. Smooth and empty. Nothing there between the legs. You know.

/SFX/NOW LA FADES BACK INTO RAGUEL’S CELL IN THE CITY OF ANGELS, AND THE FLAPPING OF LUCIFER’S WINGS...

RAGUEL NARRATION

Lucifer shone. I mean it -- he glowed from inside. All angels do. They're lit up from within, and in my cell the angel Lucifer burned like a lightning storm. He looked at me. And he named me.

LUCIFER

You are Raguel. The vengeance of the Lord.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes. I see. I am Raguel. I am vengeance. That is my name. That is my function.

LUCIFER

There has been a ... a wrong thing. The first of its kind. You are needed.

RAGUEL NARRATION

He turned and pushed himself into space, and I followed him.

RAGUEL THEN

(shouting over the wind of flight)

It’s astonishing! It’s wonderful!

LUCIFER

(in flight)

The Silver City. Yes. It astonishes. It inspires wonder. It’s all there is, you know.

RAGUEL THEN

(in flight)

What about outside the city? What is that?

LUCIFER

(in flight)

It’s called the Dark. We do not go there. It is not of this place.

/SFX/ LUCIFER AND RAGUEL TAKE FLIGHT, SWOOP OVER THE CITY, EVENTUALLY LANDING, AS RAGUEL DESCRIBES IT, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

I flew behind him across the Silver City, to the outskirts, where the City stops and the Darkness begins; and it was there, under a vast silver spire, that we descended to the street, and I saw the dead angel.

(beat)

The body lay, crumpled and broken, on the silver sidewalk. Its wings were crushed underneath it and a few loose feathers had already blown into the silver gutter.

(beat)

The body was almost dark. Now and again a light would flash inside it, an occasional flicker of cold fire in the chest, or in the eyes, or in the sexless groin, as the last of the glow of life left it for ever.

(beat)

Blood pooled in rubies on its chest and stained its white wing-feathers crimson. It was very beautiful, even in death.

(beat)

It would have broken your heart.

LUCIFER

You must find who was responsible for this, and how; and take the Vengeance of the Name on whoever caused this thing to happen.

RAGUEL THEN

I know. The hunt, and the retribution: it is why I was created, in the Beginning; it is what I am. Who was this?

LUCIFER

The Angel Carasel. He worked in the Hall of Being, there.

RAGUEL THEN

Impressive building.

LUCIFER

Perhaps. It serves its function. Do you know who did it yet?

RAGUEL THEN

No. Not yet.

RAGUEL NARRATION

I leaned down to examine the body. All luminescence had by now left it. It was a dark thing; a parody of an angel. It had a perfect, sexless face, framed by silver hair. One of the eyelids was open, revealing a placid grey eye; the other was closed. There were no nipples on the chest and only smoothness between the legs.

RAGUEL THEN

Help me turn him over.

/SFX/ MOVING AND A GRUNTING.

LUCIFER

What happened to it?

RAGUEL THEN

It’s a mess. Let’s see: Carasel’s wings are broken and twisted; the back of the head staved in; I think its spine has been broken as well. In a couple of places. There’s blood all over its back.

(to Lucifer)

Okay. Let’s turn him back again.

(inspecting)

His front is pretty clean. The only blood is in the chest area. Hmm. Some kind of hole in its front. Look -- if I probe it with my forefinger, it enters the body without difficulty.

LUCIFER

What have you learned?

RAGUEL THEN

He fell. And he was mortally wounded before he fell.

(Voice treatment -- Raguel in his aspect. He is addressing the whole city, but quietly:)

Somebody is responsible for this. Somebody made this happen... I will find you, whoever you are. And I will take the Lord's vengeance upon you.

LUCIFER

You’re very certain.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes.

LUCIFER

I have work to attend to.

/SFX/ FLAPPING WINGS.

RAGUEL THEN

Before you go! Who discovered the body? Was it you?

LUCIFER

Phanuel. The senior designer in the Hall of Being. You can find him inside.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes. I can. Thank you, Lucifer.

LUCIFER

You are most welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me...

RAGUEL NARRATION

He flapped his wings, once, hard, and rose upwards; the gust of wind sent the dead angel's loose feathers blowing across the street.

NARRATOR

The man took the cigarette stub from behind his ear, lit it with a match.

/SFX/ LA STREET. A MATCH IS STRUCK, HYPER-REAL...

RAGUEL NOW

Waste not, want not. That’s what they say, isn’t it?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

That’s what they say, yes.

NARRATOR

I could smell the ashtray smell of a dead cigarette, acrid and harsh; then he pulled down to the unburnt tobacco, exhaled blue smoke into the night air.

RAGUEL NARRATION

So. The angel who had first discovered the body was called Phanuel.

/SFX/ THE HALL OF BEING. INT. ANGELS FLAPPING. NOISES OF STRANGE MACHINERY. BUT WITH THE LA NOISES STILL GOING OVER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

I spoke to him in the Hall of Being. That was the spire beside which the dead angel lay. In the Hall hung the... the blueprints, maybe, for what was going to be... all this.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

All what? The cars? The streets? LA?

RAGUEL NOW

Yeah. All that and more. The universe.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

The Universe?

/SFX/ LA NOISE ENDS. HALL OF BEING NOISES GET LOUDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION

Phanuel was the senior designer; working under him were a multitude of angels labouring on the details of The Creation. I watched him from the floor of the hall. He hung in the air below the Plan, and angels flew down to him, waiting politely in turn as they asked him questions, checked things with him, invited comment on their work. Eventually he left them, and came down to my level.

PHANUEL

(fussy)

You are Raguel, are you not? What need have you of me?

RAGUEL THEN

I hear you found the body.

PHANUEL

Poor Carasel? Indeed I did. I was leaving the hall -- there are a number of concepts we are currently constructing, and I wished to ponder one of them, Regret by name. I was planning to get a little distance from the City -- to fly above it, I mean, not to go into the Dark outside, I wouldn't do that, although there has been a some loose talk amongst... but, yes. I was going to rise, and contemplate. I left the Hall, and...

(his voice cracks)

Poor foolish Carasel. How could he do that to himself? How?

RAGUEL THEN

You think his destruction was self-inflicted?

PHANUEL

(surprised at the question)

But of course. Carasel was working under me, developing a number of concepts that shall be intrinsic to the Universe, when its Name shall be spoken. His group did a remarkable job on some of the real basics -- Dimension was one, and Sleep another. There were others.

(beat)

Wonderful work. Some of his suggestions regarding the use of individual viewpoints to define dimensions were truly ingenious. Anyway. He had begun work on a new project. It's one of the really major ones -- the ones that I would usually handle, or possibly even Zephkiel. But Carasel had done such sterling work. And his last project was so remarkable. Something apparently quite trivial, that he and Saraquael elevated into... But that is unimportant. It was this project that forced him into non-being. But none of us could ever have foreseen...

RAGUEL THEN

What was his current project?

PHANUEL

I'm not sure that I can tell you. All the new concepts are considered sensitive and confidential, until we get them into the final form in which they will be Spoken.

RAGUEL NARRATION

I felt myself transforming. I am not sure how I can explain it to you, but suddenly I wasn't me -- I was something larger. I was transfigured: I was my function.

RAGUEL THEN

(treatment -- transfigured)

I am Raguel, who is the Vengeance of the Lord. I serve the Name directly. It is my mission to discover the nature of this deed, and to take the Name's vengeance on those responsible. My questions are to be answered.

PHANUEL

(Shaken)

Yes. Yes of course. Carasel and his partner were researching Death. Cessation of life. An end to physical, animated existence. They were putting it all together. But Carasel always went too far into his work -- we had a terrible time with him when he was designing Agitation. That was when he was working on Emotions...

RAGUEL THEN

You think Carasel died to -- to research the phenomenon?

PHANUEL

Or because it intrigued him. Or because he followed his research just too far. Yes.

(beat)

I trust that you will repeat none of this to any unauthorised persons, Raguel.

RAGUEL THEN

What did you do when you found the body?

PHANUEL

I came out of the Hall, as I said, and there was Carasel on the sidewalk, staring up. I asked him what he was doing and he did not reply. Then I noticed the inner fluid, and that Carasel seemed unable, rather than unwilling to talk to me.

(beat)

I was scared. I did not know what to do.

The Angel Lucifer came up behind me. He asked me if there was some kind of problem.

/SFX/ SLIGHT ECHO OVER THIS: A TINY FLASHBACK TO ADD SPICE TO THE NARRATIVE...

LUCIFER

...kind of problem, Phanuel?

PHANUEL

Indeed. Yes. This angel. Carasel. A bad thing has happened. A very bad thing.

PHANUEL (CONT’D)

(present narration)

I showed him the body. And then... then his Aspect came upon him, and he communed with The Name. He burned so bright. He said...

LUCIFER

(voice treatment -- transfigured)

I shall fetch the one whose function embraces events such as this.

PHANUEL

--and he left -- to seek you, I imagine.

As Carasel's death was now being dealt with, and his fate was no real concern of mine, I returned to work, having gained a new -- and I suspect, quite valuable -- perspective on the mechanics of Regret. I am considering taking Death away from the Carasel and Saraquael partnership. I may reassign it to Zephkiel, my senior partner, if he is willing to take it on. He excels on contemplative projects. Look, can we hurry this up -- there are dozens of angels waiting to talk to me. I’m extremely busy.

RAGUEL THEN

Mm. Who did Carasel work with? Who would have been the last to see him alive?

PHANUEL

You could talk to Saraquael, I suppose -- he was his partner, after all. Now, if you'll excuse me...

(to angels, under...)

Hmm -- I rather like those, photons are they? but we’re going to have to make them a lot smaller. Now, who has the giraffe patterns...?

RAGUEL NARRATION

He returned to his swarm of aides: advising, correcting, suggesting, forbidding.

/SFX/ LA STREET SOUNDS. CRICKETS.

RAGUEL NOW

Hey, did you see that?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

What?

RAGUEL NOW

Over there. By that car. A jackal. Coyote. Damned if I know what they come into the city for.

(beat)

Good story, huh?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I’ve never heard anything like it.

/SFX/ GHOSTLY CITY OF ANGELS NOISES UNDER, BUT THE LA NOISES REMAIN...

RAGUEL NOW

Yeah? Okay. So I went to talk to the Dead angel’s partner. Saraquael was in the highest of the mezzanine galleries that ringed the Hall of Being. As I said, the Universe was in the middle of the Hall, and it glinted and sparkled and shone. Went up quite a way, too...

NARRATOR -- LIVE

The Universe you mention, it was, what, a diagram? I don’t quite understand...

RAGUEL NOW

Not really. Kind of. Sorta. It was a blueprint: but it was full-sized, and it hung in the Hall, and all these angels went around and fiddled with it all the time. Doing stuff with Gravity, and Music and Klar and whatever. It wasn't really the universe, not yet. It would be, when it was finished, and it was time for it to be properly Named.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I’m sorry. I really don’t see...

RAGUEL NOW

Don't worry about it. Think of it as a model, if that makes it easier for you. Or a map. Or a -- what's the word? Prototype. Yeah. A Model T Ford universe.

(satisfied chuckle)

You got to understand, a lot of the stuff I'm telling you, I'm translating already; putting it in a form you can understand. Otherwise I couldn't tell the story at all. Look, you want to hear it or you want to keep asking questions?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

(keeping the peace) I want to hear it.

RAGUEL THEN

Good. So shut up and listen.

/SFX/THE TOP GALLERY OF THE HALL OF BEING -- SLIGHT ECHO...

RAGUEL NARRATION

So I met Saraquael, in the topmost gallery. There was no-one else about -- just him, and some papers, and some small, glowing models.

RAGUEL THEN

I've come about Carasel.

SARAQUAEL

Carasel isn't here at this time, I’m afraid. I expect him to return shortly.

RAGUEL THEN

Carasel won't be coming back. He's stopped existing as a spiritual entity.

SARAQUAEL

He's dead?

RAGUEL THEN

That's what I said. Do you have any ideas about how it happened?

SARAQUAEL

I... this is so sudden. I mean, he'd been talking about... but I had no idea that he would... well, take it on to the next step...

RAGUEL THEN

Take it slowly.

RAGUEL NARRATION

He stood up and walked to the window. There was no view of the Silver City from his window -- just a reflected glow from the City and the sky behind us, hanging in the air, and beyond that, the Dark. The wind from the Dark gently caressed Saraquael's hair as he spoke. I stared at his back, and listened.

SARAQUAEL

Carasel is... no, was. That's right, isn't it? Was. He was always so involved. And so creative. But it was never enough for him. He always wanted to understand everything -- to experience what he was working on. He was never content to just create it -- to understand it intellectually. He wanted all of it.

RAGUEL THEN

All of it?

SARAQUAEL

Yes. That wasn't a problem before, when we were working on properties of matter. But when we began to design some of the Named Emotions... he got too involved with his work. And our latest project was Death. It's one of the hard ones -- one of the big ones, too, I suspect. Possibly it may even become the attribute that's going to define the Creation for the Created: if not for Death, they'd be content to simply exist, but with Death, well, their lives will have meaning -- a boundary beyond which the living cannot cross...

RAGUEL THEN

So you’re saying you think he killed himself?

SARAQUAEL

I know he did.

(beat)

That’s him, isn’t it?

RAGUEL THEN

Excuse me?

SARAQUAEL

The white and red dot on the sidewalk, down there. Is that Carasel?

RAGUEL THEN

I believe so.

SARAQUAEL

How can they just leave him there like that?

RAGUEL THEN

Someone will clean up the mess.

SARAQUAEL

Who?

RAGUEL THEN

I don’t know who. But there will be an angel whose function it is to remove things that are unwanted. My function is discovery and vengeance. So how do you know that Carasel killed himself?

SARAQUAEL

How? There’s no other possible explanation. Look, recently he'd begun asking questions -- questions about Death. How could we know whether or not it was right to make this thing, to set the rules, if we were not going to experience it ourselves. He kept talking about it.

RAGUEL THEN

Didn't you wonder about this? Weren’t you concerned?

SARAQUAEL

Not in the slightest. That is our function -- to discuss, to improvise, to aid the Creation and the Created. We sort it out now, so that when it all Begins, it'll run like clockwork. Right now we're working on Death. So obviously that's what we look at. The physical aspect; the emotional aspect; the philosophical aspect...

RAGUEL THEN

So that was what Carasel was working on?

SARAQUAEL

That and the patterns. Carasel had the notion that what we do here in the Hall of Being creates patterns. That there are structures and shapes appropriate to beings and events that, once begun, must continue until they reach their end. For us, perhaps, as well as for them. Conceivably he felt this was one of his patterns.

RAGUEL THEN

I see. I think. Did you know Carasel well?

SARAQUAEL

As well as any of us know each other. We saw each other here; we worked side by side. At certain times I would retire to my cell, across the city. Sometimes he would do the same.

RAGUEL THEN

Mm. Tell me about Phanuel.

SARAQUAEL

(confidentially -- gossiping)

The boss? Honestly? He's officious. Doesn't do much -- farms everything out, and takes all the credit.

(intimately)

To hear him talk, you'd think that Love was all his own work. But to his credit he does make sure the work gets done. Zephkiel's the real thinker of the two senior designers, but he doesn't come here. He stays back in his cell in the City, and contemplates; resolves problems from a distance. If you need to speak to Zephkiel, you go to Phanuel, and Phanuel relays your questions to Zephkiel...

RAGUEL THEN

(interrupting)

How about Lucifer? Tell me about him.

SARAQUAEL

Lucifer? The Captain of the Host? He doesn't work here... He has visited the Hall a couple of times, though -- inspecting the Creation. They say he reports directly to the Name. I have never spoken to him.

RAGUEL THEN

Did he know Carasel?

SARAQUAEL

I doubt it. As I said, he has only been here twice. I have seen him on other occasions, though. Through the window over there. In flight. On his way somewhere.

RAGUEL THEN

Where was he going?

SARAQUAEL

I.... I don't know.

RAGUEL THEN

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The city, from this height. And the darkness, beyond the city...

SARAQUAEL

Yes. It’s beautiful. It’s all there is.

RAGUEL THEN

I may want to talk with you some more, later.

SARAQUAEL

Very good... Sir? Do you know if they will be assigning me another partner? For Death?

RAGUEL THEN

No. I’m afraid I don't.

/SFX/MUSIC UNDER. RUNNING WATER -- A RIVER...

RAGUEL NARRATION

In the centre of the Silver City was a park -- a place of recreation and rest. I found the Angel Lucifer there, beside a river. He was just standing, watching the water flow.

RAGUEL THEN

Lucifer?

LUCIFER

Raguel. Are you making progress?

RAGUEL THEN

I don't know. Maybe. I need to ask you a few questions. Do you mind?

LUCIFER

Not at all.

RAGUEL THEN

How did you come upon the body?

LUCIFER

I didn't. Not exactly. I saw Phanuel, standing in the street. He looked distressed. I enquired whether there was something wrong, and he showed me the dead angel. And I fetched you.

RAGUEL THEN

I see.

/SFX/ THE SOUND OF WATER.

LUCIFER

The water’s so cold... Is that all?

RAGUEL THEN

Not quite. What were you doing in that part of the City?

LUCIFER

I don't see what business that is of yours.

RAGUEL THEN

It is my business, Lucifer. What were you doing there?

LUCIFER

I was... walking. I do that sometimes. Just walk, and think. And try to understand.

RAGUEL THEN

You walk on the edge of the City?

LUCIFER

(a beat)

Yes.

RAGUEL THEN

That's all I want to know. For now.

LUCIFER

Who else have you talked to?

RAGUEL THEN

Carasel's boss, and his partner. They both feel that he killed himself -- ended his own life.

LUCIFER

Who else are you going to talk to?

RAGUEL THEN

Maybe everyone.

LUCIFER

All of them? There must be thousands of us. Millions. You’d speak to each of us?

RAGUEL THEN

If I need to. It's my function. I cannot rest until I understand what happened, and until the vengeance of the Name has been taken on whoever was responsible. But I'll tell you something I do know.

LUCIFER

What would that be?

/SFX/ WATER DRIPPING...

RAGUEL THEN

Carasel didn’t kill himself.

LUCIFER

How do you know that?

RAGUEL THEN

I am Vengeance. If Carasel had died by his own hand, there would have been no call for me. Would there?

RAGUEL NARRATION

He did not reply.

(beat)

I flew upwards, into the light of the eternal morning.

/SFX/ SEVERAL BEATS, AND THE LA NOISE RISES UP...

RAGUEL NOW

You got another cigarette on you?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Here.

RAGUEL NOW

Obliged.

/SFX/ A MATCH IS STRUCK, THE CIGARETTE IS LIT, AND THEN THE NOISE FADES BACK INTO THE CITY OF ANGELS UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION

Zephkiel's cell was larger than mine.

It wasn't a place for waiting. It was a place to live, and work, and be. It was lined with books, and scrolls, and papers, and there were images and representations on the walls: pictures. I'd never seen a picture before. In the centre of the room was a large chair, and Zephkiel sat there, his eyes closed, his head back. As I approached him he opened his eyes. They burned no brighter than the eyes of any of the other angels I had seen, but somehow, they seemed to have seen more. It was something about the way he looked. I'm not sure I can explain it. And he had no wings.

ZEPHKIEL

(elderly, wise, tired)

Welcome, Raguel.

RAGUEL THEN

You are Zephkiel?

/SFX/ LA NOISES COME BACK GENTLY THROUGH THIS NEXT SPEECH...

RAGUEL NARRATION

I don't know why I asked him that. I mean, I knew who people were. It's part of my function, I guess. Recognition. I know who you are.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

You know who I am?

RAGUEL NOW

That’s what I said, didn’t I?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

(pause, then) Who am I?

RAGUEL NOW

You think I came here by accident? You think you met me by accident? There are no accidents. Now.... You want to hear this story or don’t you?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

... I want to hear it.

RAGUEL NOW

Damn right. So I asked him if he was Zephkiel. And he said,

/SFX/ IN ZEPHKIEL’S CELL...

ZEPHKIEL

Indeed. I am Zephkiel. Yes. You are staring, Raguel. I have no wings, it is true, but then, my function does not call for me to leave this cell. I remain here, and I ponder. Phanuel reports back to me, brings me the new things, for my opinion. He brings me the problems, and I think about them, and occasionally I make myself useful by making some small suggestions. That is my function. As yours is vengeance.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes.

ZEPHKIEL

You are here about the death of the angel Carasel?

RAGUEL THEN

Yes.

ZEPHKIEL

I did not kill him.

RAGUEL NARRATION

When he said it, I knew he was telling the truth.

RAGUEL THEN

Do you know who did?

ZEPHKIEL

That is your function, is it not? To discover who killed the poor thing, and to take the Vengeance of the Name upon him.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes.

ZEPHKIEL

What do you want to know?

RAGUEL THEN

Do you know what Lucifer was doing in that part of the City, before the body was found?

ZEPHKIEL

I can hazard a guess.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes?

ZEPHKIEL

He was walking in the Dark.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes. Of course he was... You know. I’ve almost got it. It’s like having a shape in my mind, or a pattern. I’m just missing one piece...

ZEPHKIEL

Well, if I can do anything to give you your missing piece, Raguel.

RAGUEL THEN

Maybe you can. What can you tell me about love?

ZEPHKIEL

Love. Ah yes, love. Well, it’s what we call, an emotion...

RAGUEL NARRATION

And he told me. And I thought I had it all.

/SFX/MUSIC, WIND, CHIMES, MUSIC.

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

I returned to the place where Carasel's body had been. The remains had been removed, the blood had been cleaned away, the stray feathers collected and disposed of. There was nothing on the silver sidewalk to indicate it had ever been there. But I knew where it had been.

(pause)

/SFX/ THE RUSHING OF WINGS.

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

I ascended on my wings, flew upward until I neared the top of the spire of the Hall of Being. There was a window there, and I entered.

/SFX/ ALL SOUNDS CROSSFADE WITH

/SFX/ INTERIOR OF THE HALL OF BEING, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

Saraquael was working there, putting a wingless mannikin into a small box. On one side of the box was a representation of a small brown creature, with eight legs. On the other was a representation of a white blossom.

RAGUEL THEN

Saraquael?

SARAQUAEL

Hm? Oh, it's you. Hello. Look at this: if you were to die, and to be, let us say, put into the earth in a box, which would you want laid on top of you -- a spider, here, or a lily, here?

RAGUEL THEN

The lily, I suppose.

SARAQUAEL

Yes, that's what I think, too. But why? Spider - lily -spider- lily ...

(sighs)

There's so much to do, Raguel. So much to get right. And we only get one chance at it, you know. There'll just be one universe -- we can't keep trying until we get it right. I wish I understood why all this was so important to Him...

RAGUEL THEN

Do you know where Zephkiel's cell is?

SARAQUAEL

Yes. I mean, I've never been there. But I know where it is.

RAGUEL THEN

Good. Go there. He'll be expecting you. I will meet you there.

SARAQUAEL

I’m afraid it’s quite out of the question. I have work to do. I can't just...

RAGUEL THEN

(voice treatment)

You will be there. Go now.

/SFX/ STEPS, THEN WINGS

RAGUEL NARRATION

He said nothing. He backed away from me, toward the window, staring at me; then he turned, and flapped his wings, and I was alone.

/SFX/ AS HE SPEAKS WE HEAR HIM TUMBLING THROUGH THE UNIVERSE, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

I walked to the central well of the Hall, and let myself fall, tumbling down through the model of the universe: it glittered around me, unfamiliar colours and shapes seething and writhing without meaning.

/SFX/UNIVERSE MUSIC...

/SFX/ A NUMBER OF ANGELS ARE CHANTING LISTS OF WORDS, ALPHABETICALLY, WHICH WE HEAR AS WE FALL, MOVING FROM ONE VOICE TO ANOTHER...

ANGEL VOICES

(strange whispers)

Interaction, Interest, interface, international, intervention, invasion...// Blue Monday, Blue Moon, blue Murder, Blue Noses, Blue Peter, Blue Pigeon, Blue Ruin, Blue Stocking, Blue Stone...// manannan, Mara, Marool, Melsh Dick, Melusine, Merrow...//aquatic, marine, maritime, oceanic, pelagic, pelagian, seaworthy, thalassic...///

/SFX/ ENDS. RAGUEL BEATS HIS WINGS AND LANDS IN THE ECHOING HALL, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

As I approached the bottom, I beat my wings, slowing my descent, and stepped lightly onto the silver floor. Phanuel stood between two angels, who were both trying to claim his attention.

ANGEL #1

Sir. Excuse me...

ANGEL 2

Sir. This won’t take long....

PHANUEL

One at a time. You first. Hmm. No. I don't care how aesthetically pleasing it would be. We simply cannot put it in the centre.

ANGEL #1

But it would looks so much better. And it’s very appropriate.

PHANUEL (CONT’D)

Background radiation would prevent any possible life-forms from even getting a foothold; and anyway, it's too unstable. You’ll need to completely rethink it -- maybe put it out in the Milky Way somewhere.

ANGEL #1

Yes, sir.

ANGEL 2

Sir? I have the colours you were asking for.

PHANUEL

Okay, let's see them. Hmm.

(paging through them...)

Well, I like the magenta. So that's Green, is it? It's not exactly how I'd imagined it, but. Mm. Leave it with me. I'll get back to you.

ANGEL 2

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

RAGUEL THEN

Phanuel?

PHANUEL

(brusque, dismissive)

Oh. It’s you again. Yes?

RAGUEL THEN

I need to talk to you.

PHANUEL

Well, make it quick. I have much to do. If this is about Carasel's death, I have told you all I know.

RAGUEL THEN

It is about Carasel's death. But I will not speak to you now. Not here. Go to Zephkiel's cell: he is expecting you. I will meet you there.

PHANUEL

I am far too busy for such nonsense...

RAGUEL THEN

(voice treatment)

Go.

/SFX/ THE BEATING OF WINGS. UNIVERSE NOISE.

ANGEL 2

Excuse me, sir. Just out of interest, does this look like Green to you? Is it how you imagined green as a phenomenon?

RAGUEL THEN

Could be. Not my department. Tell me something.

ANGEL 2

If I can, sir.

RAGUEL THEN

That thing. What's it going to be for?

ANGEL 2

For? Why, it is the Universe.

RAGUEL THEN

I know what it's called. But what purpose will it serve?

ANGEL 2

(rebuking)

It is part of the plan. The Name wishes it; He requires such and such, to these dimensions, and having such and such properties and ingredients. It is our function to bring it into existence, according to His wishes. I am sure He knows its function, but He has not revealed it to me.

RAGUEL THEN

Yeah. Well, I can see his point on that.

/SFX/ALL SOUNDS CROSS-FADE WITH

/SFX AND MUS/ ABOVE THE CITY: SOUNDS AND MUSIC OF ANGELS WHEELING AND CIRCLING AND DIVING. RAGUEL GLIDES, UNDER....

LUCIFER

(in background, under...) Wheel right! Now, gold squadron dive... and break! Second Phalanx up and left. Silver squadron spiral rise... wait for it... now! Bronze squadron, fill in, and hover, and rise... white squadron spiral, and break, and gold squadron rise to fill... and return to formation... and hold it... now bronze squadron, mark your man, and replace, and fall.... (etc -- ad lib if necessary)

RAGUEL NARRATION

High above the City a phalanx of angels wheeled and circled and dove. Each held a flaming sword which trailed a streak of burning brightness behind it, dazzling the eye. They moved in unison through the salmon-pink sky. They were very beautiful. It was -- you know on summer evenings, when you get whole flocks of birds performing their dances in the sky? Weaving and circling and clustering and breaking apart again, so just as you think you understand the pattern, you realise you don't, and you never will? It was like that, only better.

(beat)

Above me was the sky. Below me, the shining City. My home. And outside the City, the Dark. Lucifer hovered a little below the Host, watching their maneuvers, calling directions.

RAGUEL THEN

Lucifer?

LUCIFER

Yes, Raguel? Have you discovered your malefactor?

RAGUEL THEN

I think so. I hope so. Will you accompany me to Zephkiel's cell? There are others waiting for us there, and I will explain everything.

LUCIFER

(a beat, then)

Certainly.

(he calls)

Azazel!

/SFX/ FLAPPING OF WINGS

RAGUEL NARRATION

An angel broke from the circle; the others adjusted almost imperceptibly to his disappearance, filling the space, so you could no longer see where he had been.

AZAZEL

Yes, sir. You called?

LUCIFER

I have to leave. You are in command, Azazel. Keep them drilling. They still have much to perfect.

AZAZEL

Yes, sir...

(he begins calling formations, under...)

Wheel left! Now, gold squadron rise... and break! Silver squadron spiral fall... don’t anticipate... Bronze squadron, fill in, and ascend, and fall...

LUCIFER

Fare well. I shall not be long.

/SFX/LUCIFER AND RAGUEL FLYING THROUGH THE AIR. AZAZEL FADES INTO THE BACKGROUND AS THEY FLY.

LUCIFER (CONT’D)

He's my second-in-command. Bright. Enthusiastic. Azazel would follow you anywhere.

RAGUEL THEN

What are you training them for?

LUCIFER

War.

RAGUEL THEN

With whom?

LUCIFER

How do you mean?

RAGUEL THEN

Who are they going to fight? Who else is there?

LUCIFER

I do not know. But He has Named us to be His army. So we will be perfect. For Him. The Name is infallible and all-just, and all-wise, Raguel. It cannot be otherwise, no matter what --

(he breaks off)

RAGUEL THEN

You were going to say?

LUCIFER

It is of no importance.

RAGUEL NARRATION

We did not talk for the rest of the descent to Zephkiel's cell.

/SFX/ALL SOUNDS QUICKLY CROSS-FADE WITH

/SFX/ LOS ANGELES AT NIGHT. DISTANT TRAFFIC, CRICKETS, UNDER...

NARRATOR

I looked at my watch: it was almost three. A chill breeze had begun to blow down the LA street, and I shivered.

RAGUEL NOW

You okay? You’re not bored or nothing?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I'm fine. Please carry on. I'm fascinated. it’s a whodunnit, isn’t it?

/SFX/ CROSSFADE TO

/SFX/ZEPHKIEL’S CELL. WE HEAR THE BEAT OF WINGS AS RAGUEL AND LUCIFER ARRIVE.

ZEPHKIEL

Ah. There you are, Raguel. I believe you must be responsible for my visitors.

RAGUEL NARRATION

They were waiting for Lucifer and me in Zephkiel's cell: Phanuel, Saraquael, and Zephkiel. Zephkiel was sitting in his chair. Lucifer took up a position beside the window. I walked to centre of the room, and I began.

RAGUEL THEN

I thank you all for coming here. You know who I am; you know my function. I am the Vengeance of the Name: the arm of the Lord. I am Raguel.

(beat)

The angel Carasel is dead. It was given to me to find out why he died, who killed him. This I have done. Now, the angel Carasel was a designer in the Hall of Being. He was very good, or so I am told...

(pause)

Lucifer. Tell me what you were doing, before you came upon Phanuel, and the body.

LUCIFER

I have told you already. I was walking.

RAGUEL THEN

Where were you walking?

LUCIFER

I do not see what business that is of yours.

RAGUEL THEN

(light voice treatment)

Tell me.

LUCIFER

Very well. I was walking in the Dark. I have been walking in the Darkness for some time now. It helps me to gain a perspective on the City -- being outside it. I see how fair it is, how perfect. There is nothing more enchanting than our home. Nothing more complete. Nowhere else that anyone would want to be

RAGUEL THEN

And what do you do in the Dark, Lucifer?

LUCIFER

I walk. And.... There are voices, in the Dark. I listen to the voices. They promise me things, ask me questions, whisper and plead. And I ignore them. I steel myself and I gaze at the City. It is the only way I have of testing myself -- putting myself to any kind of trial. I am the Captain of the Host; I am the first among the Angels, and I must prove myself.

RAGUEL THEN

Why did you not tell me this before.

LUCIFER

Because I am the only angel who walks in the Dark. Because I do not want others to walk in the Dark: I am strong enough to challenge the voices, to test myself. Others are not so strong. Others might stumble, or fall.

RAGUEL THEN

Thank you, Lucifer. That is all, for now.

/SFX/ LUCIFER WALKS BACK.

RAGUEL THEN (CONT’D)

Phanuel. How long have you been taking credit for Carasel's work?

PHANUEL

I... I uh... whu-whu-whu...

RAGUEL THEN

Well?

PHANUEL

I... I would not take credit for another's work.

RAGUEL NOW

But you did take credit for Love?

PHANUEL

Yes. I did.

RAGUEL NOW

Phanuel. Would you care to explain to us all what Love is?

PHANUEL

(didactic, with no understanding)

Er. Yes of course. It's a feeling of deep affection and attraction for another being, often combined with passion or desire -- a need to be with another. The feeling that we have for the Name, for our Creator -- that is Love... amongst other things. Love will be an impulse which will inspire and ruin in equal measure... We are... we are very proud of it.

RAGUEL THEN

Who did the majority of the work on Love? No, don't answer. Let me ask the others first. Zephkiel? When Phanuel passed the details on Love to you for approval, who did he tell you was responsible for it?

ZEPHKIEL

He told me it was entirely his project.

RAGUEL THEN

Thank you, sir. Now, Saraquael: whose was Love?

SARAQUAEL

Mine. Mine and Carasel's. Perhaps more his than mine, but we worked on it together.

RAGUEL THEN

You knew that Phanuel was claiming the credit for it?

SARAQUAEL

...yes.

RAGUEL THEN

And you permitted this?

SARAQUAEL

He -- he promised us that he would give us a good project of our own to follow. He promised that if we said nothing we would be given more big projects -- and he was true to his word. He gave us Death.

RAGUEL THEN

Well, Phanuel?

PHANUEL

It is true that I claimed that Love was mine.

RAGUEL THEN

But it was Carasel's. And Saraquael's.

PHANUEL

Yes.

RAGUEL THEN

Their last project -- before Death?

PHANUEL

Yes.

RAGUEL THEN

That is all.

RAGUEL THEN (CONT’D)

Carasel was a remarkable designer. If he had one failing, it was that he threw himself too deeply into his work. Saraquael? You’re shivering, Saraquael...

SARAQUAEL

Am I?

RAGUEL THEN

Saraquael. Who did Carasel love? Who was his lover? Well?

SARAQUAEL

How did you know?

RAGUEL THEN

Just answer my question.

SARAQUAEL

I...

(scared, then proud)

I was.

RAGUEL THEN

Do you want to tell me about it?

SARAQUAEL

No. But I suppose I must. Very well, then. We worked together. And when we began to work on Love... we became lovers. It was his idea. We would go back to his cell, whenever we could snatch the time. There we touched each other, held each other, whispered endearments and protestations of eternal devotion. His welfare mattered more to me than my own. I existed for him. When I was alone I would repeat his name to myself, and think of nothing but him. When I was with him...

(beat)

...nothing else mattered.

RAGUEL AND SARAQUAEL ARE NOW VERY CLOSE, TALKING INTIMATELY.

RAGUEL THEN

Then why did you kill him?

SARAQUAEL

Because he would no longer loved me. When we started to work on Death he -- he lost interest. He was no longer mine. He belonged to Death. And if I could not have him, then his new lover was welcome to him. I could not bear his presence -- I could not endure to have him near me and to know that he felt nothing for me. That was what hurt the most. I thought... I hoped... that if he was gone then I would no longer care for him -- that the pain would stop.

(pause)

/SFX/ OVER THIS WE HEAR A REPEAT OF THE OPENING SEQUENCE -- THE DEATH OF CARASEL.

SARAQUAEL (CONT’D)

So I killed him; I stabbed him, and I threw his body from our window in the Hall of Being.

(nearly wails this, in pain)

But the pain has not stopped.

SARAQUAEL (CONT’D)

Now what?

/SFX/ FLAMES -- BEGINNING GENTLY THEN BECOMING A ROAR....

RAGUEL NARRATION

I felt my aspect begin to come upon me; felt my function possess me. I was no longer an individual -- I was the Vengeance of the Lord.

RAGUEL THEN

(treatment))

Come close to me, Saraquael. Come very close.

SARAQUAEL

No... please... no....

RAGUEL THEN

(treatment)

I have a gift for you.

/SFX/ AS RAGUEL CARRIES OUT SARAQUAEL’S SENTENCE. MUSIC AND FLAME SOUND EFFECTS TELL THE STORY. BURNING, UNDER...

RAGUEL NARRATION (CONT’D)

He moved close to me, and I embraced him. I pressed my lips to his, forced my tongue into his mouth. We kissed. He closed his eyes. I felt it well up within me then: a burning, a brightness. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Lucifer and Phanuel averting their faces from my light; I could feel Zephkiel's stare. And my light became brighter and brighter, until it erupted -- from my eyes, from my chest, from my fingers, from my lips: a white, searing fire. The white flames consumed Saraquael slowly, and he clung to me as he burned.

/SFX/ SARAQUAEL’S DEATH SCREAMS UNDER THE END OF THAT LAST...

RAGUEL NARRATION

Soon there was nothing left of him. Nothing at all. I felt the flame leave me. I returned to myself once more. Phanuel was sobbing. Lucifer was pale. Zephkiel sat in his chair, quietly watching me.

RAGUEL THEN

You have seen the Vengeance of the Lord. Let it act as a warning to you both. Phanuel. Lucifer.

PHANUEL

It has. Oh it has. I, I will be on my way, sir. I will return to my appointed post. If that is all right with you?

RAGUEL THEN

Go.

/SFX/ WINGS BEATING

LUCIFER

Nothing. There is nothing left of Saraquael. You destroyed him. Look. No fragment of ash, or bone, or even a charred feather. It is as if he never existed at all.

RAGUEL THEN

He existed. But he’s gone.

LUCIFER

(trying to hold back tears)

That was not right. That was not just.

(and then the tears begin)

RAGUEL THEN

It was justice. He killed another. He was killed in his turn. You called me to my function, and I performed it.

LUCIFER

But... he loved. He should have been forgiven. He should have been helped. He should not have been destroyed like that. That was wrong.

RAGUEL THEN

It was the will of our creator, the will of the Name.

LUCIFER

Then perhaps His will is unjust. Perhaps the voices in the darkness speak truly after all. How can this be right?

RAGUEL THEN

It is right. It is His will. I merely performed my function.

LUCIFER

No. I must think on this. I... will go now.

/SFX/ WINGBEATS. LUCIFER FLIES AWAY.

ZEPHKIEL

Did you observe the liquid that came from Lucifer’s eyes.

RAGUEL THEN

Yes.

ZEPHKIEL

It’s called tears. How strange. Carasel was the first to love, but Lucifer was the first to shed tears.

ZEPHKIEL

So. It is over. You have performed your function well, Raguel. Shouldn't you return to your cell, to wait until you are next needed?

/SFX/CROSS FADE TO:

/SFX/LOS ANGELES NOISES

NARRATOR -- LIVE

So. Saraquael did it. A murder for love. Yes. I can understand that. It makes so much more sense than a motiveless death, doesn’t it? The kind where you don’t know why you did it. The kind you could never explain.

RAGUEL NOW

I’ll take a last cigarette from you, now. If you’re offering.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Sure. You don’t honestly expect me to believe any of this, do you?

RAGUEL NOW

Story’s not over yet, pal. Not quite.

/SFX/ LOS ANGELES CROSSFADES TO

/SFX/ ZEPHKIEL’S CELL...

RAGUEL NARRATION

I knew that he was right. But I couldn't have left then -- not even if I had wanted to. My aspect had not entirely left me; my function was not completely fulfilled. And then it fell into place; I saw the whole picture. And like Lucifer, I knelt. I touched my forehead to the silver floor.

RAGUEL THEN

No, Lord. Not yet.

/SFX/ZEPHKIEL STANDS UP

ZEPHKIEL

Lord indeed! Get up, Raguel. It is not fitting for one angel to act in this way to another. It is not right. Get up!

RAGUEL THEN

Father, You are no angel.

ZEPHKIEL

Do you know what you’re saying?

RAGUEL THEN

Father, I was charged to discover who was responsible for Carasel's death. And I do know.

ZEPHKIEL

You have taken your vengeance, Raguel.

RAGUEL THEN

Your vengeance, Lord.

/SFX/ ZEPHKIEL SITS BACK DOWN IN HIS CHAIR.

ZEPHKIEL

Ah, little Raguel. The problem with creating things is that they perform so much better than one had ever planned. Shall I ask how you recognised me?

RAGUEL THEN

I... I am not certain, Lord. You have no wings. You wait at the centre of the city, supervising the Creation directly. When I destroyed Saraquael, You did not look away. You know too many things. You...

(beat)

No, I do not know how I know. As You say, You have created me well. But I only understood who You were and the meaning of the drama we had enacted here for You, when I saw Lucifer leave.

ZEPHKIEL

What did you understand, child?

RAGUEL THEN

Who killed Carasel. Or at least, who was pulling the strings. For example, who arranged for Carasel and Saraquael to work together on Love, knowing Carasel's tendency to involve himself too deeply in his work?

ZEPHKIEL

(condescending, like an adult speaking to a child)

Why should anyone have "pulled the strings", Raguel? Please, get up. Off your knees.

RAGUEL THEN

Because nothing occurs without reason; and all the reasons are Yours. You set Saraquael up: yes, he killed Carasel. But he killed Carasel so that I could destroy him.

ZEPHKIEL

And were you wrong to destroy him?

RAGUEL THEN

It was my function. But I do not think it was just. I think perhaps it was needed that I destroy Saraquael, in order to demonstrate to Lucifer the Injustice of the Lord.

ZEPHKIEL

And whatever reason would I have for doing that?

RAGUEL THEN

I... I do not know. I do not understand -- no more than I understand why You created the Dark, or the voices in the darkness. But You did. You caused all this to occur.

/SFX/ A MOMENT’S SILENCE AS THE WIND BLOWS

ZEPHKIEL

Yes. I did. Lucifer must brood on the unfairness of Saraquael's destruction. And that -- amongst other things, -- will precipitate him into certain actions. Poor sweet Lucifer. His way will be the hardest of all my children; for there is a part he must play in the drama that is to come, and it is a grand role.

(pause)

What will you do now, Raguel?

RAGUEL THEN

I must return to my cell. My function is now fulfilled. I have taken vengeance, and I have revealed the perpetrator. That is enough. But -- Lord?

ZEPHKIEL

Yes, child.

RAGUEL THEN

I feel dirty. I feel tarnished. I feel befouled. Perhaps it is true that all that happens is in accordance with Your will, and thus it is good. But sometimes You leave blood on Your instruments.

ZEPHKIEL

Perhaps I do. If you wish, Raguel, you may forget all this. All that has happened this day. However, you will not be able to speak of this to any other angels, whether you choose to remember it or not.

RAGUEL THEN

I will remember it.

ZEPHKIEL

It is your choice. But sometimes you will find it is easier by far not to remember. Forgetfulness can sometimes bring freedom, of a sort. Now, if you do not mind, there is work I should be getting on with.

/SFX/ UNDER THIS LAST, ZEPHKIEL OPENS A BOOK, BEGINS TO WRITE

RAGUEL NARRATION

I stood up and walked to the window. I hoped He would call me back, explain every detail of His plan to me, somehow make it all better. But He said nothing, and I left His Presence without ever looking back.

/SFX/ MUSIC AND THE SILVER CITY RISE THEN FALL AWAY COMPLETELY...

/SFX/ LOS ANGELES. IT’S ALMOST MORNING...

NARRATOR

The man was silent, then. And he remained silent -- I couldn't even hear him breathing -- for so long that I began to get nervous, thinking that perhaps he had fallen asleep, or died. Then he stood up in the pre-dawn light...

RAGUEL NOW

There you go, pal. That's your story. Do you think it was worth a couple of cigarettes and a book of matches?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Yes. It was. But what happened next? How did you... I mean. How did you get here?

RAGUEL NOW

What happened? I left home, and I lost my way, and these days home's a long way back. Sometimes you do things you regret, but there's nothing you can do about them. Times change. Doors close behind you. You move on. You know? Eventually I wound up here. They used to say no-one's ever originally from LA. True as Hell in my case... Stand up. Come here.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

What?

RAGUEL NOW

(hint of the voice treatment)

Come here.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Yes.

RAGUEL NOW

(whispers)

Here. A gift for you.

/SFX/ A KISS, SOFTLY.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

(whispers )

You kissed my cheek

RAGUEL NOW

Yes.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

It burns. Ow, it...

RAGUEL NOW

It doesn’t burn for long.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

You took something from me. You... took...something....

RAGUEL NOW

No. I gave you something. Like the Man said: forgetfulness is freedom of a sort.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

What did you do to me?

RAGUEL NOW

I never fell. You understand? When the others fell, I didn’t fall. I’m still doing my job, as I see it. Doesn’t matter how long it is. I still want to go home. You’ll go home soon. See ya round, pal.

NARRATOR

The man walked away down the darkened street, and I sat on the bench and watched him go. I felt like he had taken something from me, although I could no longer remember what. And I felt like something had been left in its place -- absolution, perhaps, or innocence, although of what, or from what, I could no longer say.

(beat)

An image from somewhere: a scribbled drawing, of two angels in flight above a perfect city; and over the image a child's perfect handprint, which stains the white paper blood-red. It came into my head unbidden, and I no longer know what it meant.

(pause)

I stood up. It was too dark to see the face of my watch, but I knew I would get no sleep that day.

/SFX/FOOTSTEPS ON SIDEWALK, UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

I walked back to the place I was staying, to the house by the stunted palm tree, to wash myself, and to wait. I thought about angels, and about Tink; and I wondered whether love and death always went hand in hand.

/SFX/ TRANSITIONAL, THE NEXT MORNING, ETC, UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

The next day the planes to England were flying again. I felt strange -- lack of sleep had forced me into that miserable state in which everything seems flat and of equal importance; when nothing matters, and in which reality seems scraped thin and threadbare.

/SFX/ A SUDDEN CRASH OF LOUD TRAFFIC NOISE, HONKING HORNS ETC.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

The taxi journey to the airport was a nightmare. I was hot, and tired, and testy. I wore a T-shirt in the LA heat; my coat was packed at the bottom of my luggage, where it had been for the entire stay. The aeroplane was crowded, but I didn't care.

/SFX/ INTERIOR OF PLANE, ON THE GROUND, UNDER...

FLIGHT ATTENDANT

Newspaper sir? We’ve got the International Herald Tribune, USA today and the LA Times.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

LA Times, please.

/SFX/ PLANE TAKES OFF. ENGINES. PASSAGE OF TIME, PLANE NOISE LOUDER, THEN...

PASSENGER

Must be pretty interesting. You’ve been reading that same page over and over for an hour, now...

NARRATOR -- LIVE

I have? I’m sorry, would you like the paper? Truth to tell, I’m so tired that the words go in one eye and out the other. I can’t remember a single thing I’ve read. Here.

PASSENGER

If you’re sure you’ve finished with it.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

Completely. For ever.

NARRATOR

I had lied: one story I had read stayed with me. Somewhere in the back of the paper was a report of a triple murder: two women, and a small child. No names were given, and I do not know why the report should have registered as it did.

/SFX/SOUNDS AND MUSIC OF NIGHTMARE, MURDER, AND A TANGLE OF VOICES IN THE DARK, UNDER...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

Soon I fell asleep. I dreamed about making love to Tink, while blood ran sluggishly from her closed eyes and lips. The blood was cold and viscous and clammy, and I awoke chilled by the plane's air-conditioning, with an unpleasant taste in my mouth. My tongue and lips were dry.

/SFX/ PLANE NOISES AGAIN

PASSENGER

Bad dream?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

No... just... something I can’t even remember...

PASSENGER

You’re white as a ghost. Scared of flying?

NARRATOR -- LIVE

No. I love flying.

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

I looked out of the scratched oval window, stared down at the clouds, and it occurred to me then (not for the first time) that the clouds were in actuality another land, where everyone knew just what they were looking for and how to get back where they started from.

(beat)

Staring down at the clouds is one of the things I have always liked best about flying. That, and the proximity one feels to one's death.

(beat)

I wrapped myself in the thin aircraft blanket, and slept some more, but if further dreams came then they made no impression upon me.

/SFX/ THE PLANE LANDS.

/SFX/ A BLIZZARD. THE WAIL OF THE WIND AND THE SNOW, WHICH FADE INTO

/SFX/ AN INTERIOR ELEVATOR. UNDER THE FOLLOWING NARRATION, WE HEAR A BUTTON BEING PUSHED, AND ELEVATOR MOVING, AND THEN A POWER CUT: A HUM, AND NOTHING....

/SFX/ WE HEAR AN A ALARM RINGING FOR A FEW MOMENTS, THEN IT RUNS DOWN AND STOPS...

NARRATOR (CONT’D)

A blizzard blew up shortly after the plane landed in England, knocking out the airport's power supply. I was alone in an airport elevator at the time, and it went dark and jammed between floors. A dim emergency light flickered on. I pressed the crimson alarm button until the batteries ran down and it ceased to sound; then I shivered in my LA T-shirt, in the corner of my little silver room. I watched my breath steam in the air, and I hugged myself for warmth.

NARRATOR -- LIVE

(ad libbing, inside the elevator, under the last moments of the following narration, and continuing beyond it:) )

Hello? Is there anybody there? Hello? Can anyone hear me? Can someone let me out of here, please? Hello? I’m afraid I’m trapped. Hello...

(etc. ad lib, with increasing desperation)

NARRATOR

There wasn't anything in there except me; but even so, I felt safe, and secure. Soon someone would come and force open the doors. Eventually somebody would let me out; and I knew that I would soon be home.

/SFX/ WE HEAR THE NARRATOR IN HIS BOX SHOUTING, HOPELESSLY FOR HELP. AND THEN THERE IS SILENCE, AND MUSIC. THEN ALL SOUNDS AND MUSIC FADE OUT, AND IT IS OVER.

END NOTES BY THE ARTIST
by George Walker

For the images of this book I wanted to explore the possibilities of the symbol of the Angel. Angels are so intrinsic to our myths as a culture, that they speak to the viewer as symbols of the eternal and of the Divine. Gaiman presents his Angels as characters with all the flaws of human nature and brings them down to earth so that we can examine them more closely as models of the human condition. The challenge for me was to interpret these descriptions into believable forms that the reader could identify with. The most difficult concept for me was the androgynous aspect of the angels. Gaiman uses the pronoun He in his characters’ dialogue yet Gaiman also suggests that the angels are androgynes without gender specific roles. We cannot leap to a conclusion that the relationship between Carasel and Saraquael was homosexual because that aspect of Eros was (we can believe) not yet created. I thought about the problem for some time before concluding that the best course of action was to allow the characters to evolve themselves and balance the individual roles with ambiguity and a hint of gender specific appearance. It is human nature to understand and identify gender roles so that we can relate these roles to our own experience. That is why the debate about the Mona Lisa continues; is it a portrait of a young man or a woman?

Like the radio play and the hand crafted book, wood engraving is a rarely practised art in the 21st century. What is wood engraving you might ask? It is the method of carving images on the end grain of hardwood with the tools of the silversmith. That is how all the images were made for this special edition of Murder Mysteries.The technique was developed and made popular by the the British artist Thomas Bewick (1753-1828). If you had a basic introduction to Art in High School you might be familiar with cutting linoleum or wood for relief printing and that will provide you with a basic idea of how the images were printed. However, engraving on end grain wood is an entirely different experience from wood cut or linoleum-cutting although the printing process is the same (roll ink on relief surface and impress paper onto surface!). The primary difference is that the tools are different for wood engraving, in wood and linoleum cutting we use parting tools and gouges whereas with wood engraving the tools are descendants of the silversmith tools and have names like spitsticker, tint tool, lining tool and lozenge shaped graver or burin. Using the tools of the silversmith on the end grain of the wood allows the artist the opportunity to create finer lines and delicate patterns that would splinter or crumble using other methods and materials. If you examine these engravings under a magnifying glass you’ll see how crisp the fine dots and lines print directly from the wood surface.

The hand printed fine book is becoming more important to our culture as electronic media begins to dominate our method of mass printed communication. Slowly we are moving towards an appreciation of the book as art object balanced with the decline of the book as the primary conveyer of information and knowledge. The book remains the undisputed time capsule of knowledge but the internet has become the undisputed super highway to retrieve it. I do not envision the obsolescence of books; just their reinvention refined towards an archival storage vehicle of our most valued knowledge and we have the technology to do this. It is from this that a new appreciation of fine paper, type and fine binding will evolve. I hope this book will serve as a kind of time capsule to communicate through that great unknown distance of time.

LIST OF ENGRAVINGS

1. smoking

2. death of Carasel

3. Phanuel ~ senior designer

4. spinning the thread of being

5. aspects of assembly

6. silver city ~ Hall of Being

7. Zephkiel ~ angel without wings in anquish

8. soaring

9. His army

10. Saraquael ~ Carasel’s partner

11. Lucifer ~ captian of the host

12. FEAR

Table of Contents

- Murder Mysteries A Play For Voices
- FOREWORD
- Midpoint