St. Peter Inc.

• Religion
• Short story
• Spirituality & New Age
• Philosophy

								
	“'Then God said, "Let there be light."' Could you imagine Lucas? Without all the paperwork.”
	“What are you going on about?” a voice retorted.
	“This article is in the Daily Omniscient,” The first man explained, flashing a page of the thickly packed newspaper to his friend, “I mean these blasted humans. Their version of the Bible just says God invented light. Right there on the spot. It doesn’t mention a lick of all the red tape. I mean not even God has the authority to just go about creating. There are pathways that need to be followed. Protocols.” 
	“I guess, but what does it matter what the humans think? As long as all the source material is there,” the man again replied with a vague amount of annoyance, “I mean David, the book is thousands of years old at this point. They’re sure to get some of it wrong.”
	“But look Lucas,” the man said as his fingertips brushed quickly about the stack of pages, “this article right here. Most people don’t even believe in saints anymore! They go directly to God for all their needs. It’s like they don’t understand all the work it takes.”
	Lucas leaned back as far as his office chair’s creaking plastic would allow and stuck his finely polished loafers onto their shared table, displacing a couple of papers in the process, “I don’t see the problem. I never felt the need to be thanked. Rather just work in the shadows. Less of a mess that way.”
	“I don’t feel the need to be thanked or recognized even. It just… feels a little… deceitful. That’s all.”
	“The truth gets revealed in the end anyway. Besides, most of it seems like common sense.”
	David shifted his head to the other shoulder, “I suppose.” He lowered and refolded the newspaper to its original configuration revealing the headline: Uriel’s Guide to Climbing the Corporate Ladder. David slid the paper back into his bag hanging off his chair’s arm and pushed himself slightly backward to grab a porcelain mug that was hard at work making dark brown stains on a couple of long disregarded files. With a quick glance at the clock, David made an attempt to tidy the desk. The task was slightly disrupted by Lucas's sharply clean shoes and feet. After an unenthusiastic venture of organization, David reasoned with himself that it was well enough and sat back down just as a chime gleamed overhead.
	Upon hearing the sound of the chime Lucas took one swig out of his own coffee mug and slowly removed his feet from the table.
	“Time to get to work?” David asked rhetorically, making an effort for a smile. 
	“Indeed it is.” 
	Quickly the first of many people was sent in and David and Lucas fell into the same patter as they always had: David first greeted them, then Lucas began to ask the simple questions, whilst David further researched the file in case more details were needed. This continued as usual. At about a quarter till noon, they broke for lunch. With the steady stream of clients disrupted Lucas lifted himself up to make the second batch of coffee. The coffee machine began to brew up a humming noise as Lucas returned to his desk to grab an apple that he took a wet crunch out of. With his mouth half full Lucas squelched a burp and asked “You bring lunch? Or you need to go to the cafe?”
	David had already begun to pack his bag and replied, “The misses didn’t pack me anything, and besides I like the croissants.”
	With a pause for a swallow, Lucas asked “Fancy some company?”
	“Sure,” David replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder.
	As they stepped out the door they heard the small bells jingle and began the walk down the hall. Lucas's steps varied against the steady tempo of David’s feet. Freshly brewed coffee in hand, Lucas floated down the hall in varying displays of speed as he brushed his hand against the wooden skirting of the wall. Lucas again sipped his coffee and steadied his pace against that of David.
	“I don’t understand,” David said, “how you manage to just be cheery all the time. It’s as if you have the heart of a hummingbird.”
	“Messy is more like it,” Lucas responded with a wave to a receptionist, “I just don’t worry myself with the complexity I see you do. With you, it’s all thinking. Whatever you do. If you're working, you're thinking about working. If you're reading the paper you’re thinking about what you’re reading. It’s like you can’t just accept the information.”
	The aura of half-baked bread and porcelain clinks began to fill the air as the smooth polished loafers negotiated passed the threshold of the small cafe. David crossed in front of Lucas and with a steady posture approached the dark-grained counter. With politeness David ordered a croissant and as if a solemn act of God himself David soon held the buttery goodness. David then found the complimentary seat to that of which Lucas had claimed. David sat down and began to enjoy. Lucas examined him with a scrupulous eye.
	Seeing an idea flourish in Lucas’s eyes David inquired, “What?”
	“See, like you with that croissant,” Lucas began, “you are happy with it aren’t you?”
	“I mean yes. Who wouldn’t?”
	“That’s exactly what I mean.” Lucas emphasized, “You are content with the croissant, but not with the cafe.”
	“I don’t think that’s entirely fair. I love the cafe,” David defended.
	“Well that’s not my meaning,” Lucas said with annoyance. “You are happy with the pleasure of life and unquestioning, but you choose to pick apart the world that provides it.”
	“Of course, I accept the pleasure of life,” David said, remaining reserved, “but just because pleasure is good doesn’t mean I must ignore the problems.” 
	“But take the benevolence of God David. I accept the world around me and am much more joyful about it. That is the pleasure of life; the reward for the world. It is borderline blasphemy to say such things in a godly world.”
	David's posture faltered at the neck and with twisted lips he let slip: “I suppose… I suppose.” At this, the sound of a bell daunted overhead and they began the walk back to the office.
	Upon arrival, Lucas took his usual position in the office and filled the rest of his mug with lukewarm caffeine, while David proceeded to messily unpack his bag. It was not long before the next client walked in as scared as always. A woman of sturdy posture with a hardy braid of bright red hair moving down her left shoulder walked in pushing through the two doors which incited a ring from the brass bell proudly standing above the door waiting to alert the two men of any visitors. As she walked in her face held a common expression of confusion and– like most confused humans– fear.
	“Hello,” David greeted, “we are your case managers. I am David and this is Lucas. We are here to help find your place.” The utterance of each syllable struck the woman with an expression of high thought. “Upon arrival, you should’ve been issued two items,” David continued, “The first is a small gray book. The second is a tan file holding papers. You were told not to research the contents of either. If you have or refuse to give them to us you will be charged with sentencing gridlock and will receive the punishments associated with it. We reserved the power to sentence you based upon abilities allotted to Saint Peter's Sentencing for the Incorporeal or Saint Peter’s Inc. as it is commonly referred to. These abilities were allotted to us by the almighty as part of bylaw 224, which was responsible for the implementation of afterlife judgment. Please now hand the small gray bound book to Lucas and the file to me.”

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