God sat at his desk, thinking of what major tragedy he should cause next, when he heard a knock at the door.
“Michael,” God said, smiling, but the smile faded at the sight of the data geek standing next to his favored son. “And Lucifer.”
The two scurried in, fumbling scrolls between them. “Let’s start with this one.” Lucifer cleared the desk.
“No, here,” Michael insisted, reordering scrolls.
“Come on in,” God huffed.
“This is the stronger plan,” Lucifer insisted.
“No one’s ready for that,” Michael countered, tapping a different scroll. “This one—this one has a long-term strategy.” He flattened it across the desk. There were diagrams of the Earth with numbered options, including ideas like—the second flood, mass extinction, reverse flood (how would it work? Remove all water? Sand?)
Michael smacked his finger on a rendering of a T-Rex.
God shrugged. “Okay—what am I looking at here, guys?”
Lucifer covered his mouth and half leaned to Michael—“Please don’t start with that one.”
“Dinosaurs,” Michael was booming. “We bring back the dinosaurs!”
God sighed and feigned interest.
“Imagine the fallout! The trials! The hardships! This—” Michael fell back in his chair, overwhelmed with excitement. “This would really test their mettle.”
“Love the enthusiasm.” God smiled. “But it’s going to be a pass.”
“Pass?” Michael asked, truly stunned.
“Pass,” God nodded.
“We have four phases mapped out.” Michael shuffled the scrolls, showcasing all the work that had been done. “We have worked through this.”
“We’ve heavily workshopped it,” Lucifer added.
“Let’s park it and revisit next millennium. When the books reset.”
Michael sank into his chair.
“Anything else?” God asked.
Lucifer shifted, gathering courage to make a pitch.
“Well,” he started, and Michael gave a warning ‘don’t do it’ look.
“I have an idea… It might be a wee bit controversial, but promising.”
“I’m listening,” God managed a supportive smile.
“Total damnation,” Lucifer said. “Demons, Trolls, the Soulless—all the species from the failed evolution trials—we put them on Earth, side by side with the humans.”
Lucifer stood. “We want to push the humans—truly challenge their souls and provoke them to evolve to something more, well evolution requires a reason to evolve! I’ve run the numbers, and this will accomplish our long-term objective in—”
“—pass,” God cut him off.
Lucifer’s jaw tightened, a subtle tremor passing through him as he remembered every idea God had dismissed this last millennium.
“But if you just look at the data,” Lucifer said, trying to remain calm.
“Too much death,” God said. “Never mind the paperwork. Legal would be so far up my ass. I may be God, but I still have bosses—the board is tightening the budget in every area. Something like this—the ROI just isn’t there.”
“You’re not thinking long term.” Lucifer took a step back.
“Pump the brakes,” Michael said softly.
“No! I’m tired of this shit! What’s the point of having us work on something if he always goes with his idea or uses the board as some bullshit scapegoat?” Lucifer quickly stepped forward and slammed a hand on the desk. “How long have I worked for you?”
God stared him down.
“You’ve never seriously considered a word I’ve said.” Lucifer’s hands glowed red.
“It’s a good idea,” Michael tried to defuse the moment. “Just a bit ahead of its time, perhaps,” trying to prompt God to pity Lucifer’s ego a bit.
“Pass,” God waved a dismissive hand. “In time, this might hold merit.”
“It holds merit now,” Lucifer spit through his teeth.
“I said, let’s revisit it in the future. And I remind you—too often—remember your place in this organization.”
“My place!” Lucifer laughed.
“It needs more substance,” God tried to reason. “I need to feel it more. I don’t feel it now. Rework it and come back, and we’ll give it another talk.”
“That’s a lie,” Lucifer said.
God’s attention returned to Lucifer.
“Just tell me the truth. You’ll never execute on this,” Lucifer said. “No matter how much I rework it, it would make no difference to you. You don’t value what I do.”
God stood and placed his palms on the desk. “What I decide to execute or not execute on is not your fucking business.”
“You don’t deserve that seat.” Lucifer turned to leave.
“Oh, Lucifer, don’t get so hurt all the time! So fragile.” God turned to Michael. “We sure he’s not a human?”
With an eruption of rage, Lucifer punched the wall, the sound echoing through the building as a hole appeared, and his goat-headed assistant in the next room screamed, her chair toppling over as she fell.
Without a word, Lucifer left. The hole in the wall burned with crimson flames around its edges.
God went back to work, untroubled by the argument. “So dramatic, that one. Can someone put that fire out?!”
The goat-headed assistant scurried in, a scowl of disgruntlement on her face, as she suffocated the flames with a blanket.
Michael shook his head. “You could have handled that better.”
God shrugged it off. “He’ll be fine.”