What in God's Name: A Novel Read online

  Craig sighed. “Yes,” he said. “I would like to invest.”

  God threw a meaty arm over Craig’s shoulder and walked him down the hall, past an astonished Vince.

  “You won’t regret this!” God said. “You and me are going straight to the top!”

  “Some places say they’re Asian fusion,” God said. “But really they’re just watered-down Chinese. I’m talking about taking the pan-Asian experience and enhancing it with classic Western ingredients. Lemongrass French fries! Fish sauce spaghetti! Nobody’s doing this but me.”

  “It sounds really great,” Craig said.

  “You’re damn right it sounds great! I just came up with it yesterday, and I already think it’s my best project ever.”

  “Better than mankind?”

  God rolled his eyes. “Much better.”

  Craig looked at the clock. They’d been talking about Sola for nearly two hours. It was time to make his move.

  “You know, God, I didn’t come up here just to talk about Sola.”

  God beamed. “You didn’t?”

  “I mean—that was a big part of it. But also, I was thinking…maybe you shouldn’t give up on the earth just yet.”

  God flicked his wrist dismissively.

  “That project’s a bust. I’m not throwing more good time after bad.”

  “I know things are rough down there. But don’t you think you could make it better?”

  “Look,” God said. “Since we’re going into business together, I’m gonna level with you. With that whole mankind thing? I bit off way more than I could chew.”

  He gestured at his overflowing inbox.

  “You know, I’ve never answered a single human prayer? It’s not that I haven’t tried—I used to spend ten minutes a day on those suckers. I just could never get them to work.”

  Craig stared at his boss with astonishment. “Not even little prayers?”

  God shook his head.

  “Last year this guy prayed for me to fix his stereo antenna. I tried to help him out—ended up striking him in the face with lightning. Two times—bap bap! He exploded.”

  “Why didn’t you just modulate the radio waves? You know, with an electrical code?”

  “I’ve never been big on computers,” God admitted. “I tried to get Vince to teach me the YouTube, but after a minute or two I thought, ‘Who needs it?’”

  “You know,” Craig said, “I’m pretty good with computers. I bet I could answer some of those prayers for you, if you gave me a chance.”

  God smirked. “I doubt it.”

  “I’m serious. In the Miracles Department, we deal with these types of things all the time.”

  “Remind me which one Miracles is?”

  “We’re on the seventeenth floor?”

  God stared at him blankly.

  “We reunited Lynyrd Skynyrd?”

  “Oh, yeah!” God said. “That was great. But they were probably going to get back together anyway.”

  Craig was trying to be polite, but he could feel his voice rising with frustration.

  “Things aren’t as hopeless as you’re making them out to be. Come down to seventeen—I’ll show you some of my miracles. I’ve done hundreds of them. I did two this morning! I helped a guy in Alaska strike oil, I won a girl a stuffed bear at Coney Island…”

  “How do I know those weren’t just coincidences?”

  Craig clenched his fists in his lap. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

  God folded his arms. “You’ve gotta call your shot.”

  He pushed his giant inbox across the desk.

  “This thing’s full of prayers. Pick one—any one. It can be the easiest prayer in the whole box. If you tell me you can solve it—and you do it by next month—I’ll keep the earth open.”

  Craig’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Sure, kid. Show me how it’s done!”

  God reached across the table, grabbed Craig’s hand, and shook it.

  “Now,” he said. “How much were you thinking of investing?”

  “All you have to do is answer one prayer? And he’ll save the earth?”

  Craig nodded spastically.

  “We shook on it!”

  He stared at God’s inbox, a heavy brass tray overflowing with prayers. It was so gigantic it barely fit on his desk. Craig rifled through the stack and Eliza started coughing from the dust.

  “There are so many,” he said. “How am I going to pick one?”

  “What about this one?” Eliza suggested. “It’s only a two.”

  “What’s a two?”

  Eliza explained the Urgency Scale to Craig.

  “That’s a smart system,” he said. “Who came up with it?”

  Eliza blushed. “I did.”

  She self-consciously adjusted her bangs, running her fingers through her soft brown hair.

  Craig hesitated. There was something he wanted to ask her, but he wasn’t sure how to do it.

  “Hey,” he said, “I was thinking…since you know so much about prayers—and I know about miracles—maybe it would be a good idea if…”

  Eliza nodded. “I’d love to help.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure! It’d be fun to collaborate on something for a change. And also, you know, it would be nice to save the world.”

  He beamed at her. “We should start right now—there isn’t a lot of time.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Hey…do you like pizza?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  Craig smiled proudly. “I’ve got a coupon.”

  “I think these are your best bet,” Eliza told Craig, handing him a short stack.

  Craig put down his slice and flipped through them.

  “You didn’t give me much to choose from.”

  Eliza shrugged. “Almost everything in this inbox is expired. Look.”

  She handed him a yellowed scrap of paper from the bottom of the pile.

  Dear God: Please get me tickets to C+C Music Factory.

  Tania Banks, March 3, 1991

  “Are they all like that?” Craig asked.

  Eliza nodded. “These are the only recent ones.”

  She handed him the prayers, and he carefully laid them out across his desk.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s look at our options.”

  Dear God: please give my fat boss a heart attack.

  Joseph Hickey, 38, Northern Ireland

  “Could be tricky,” Craig said. “I could build up plaque in the guy’s arteries, but I doubt that would kill him by next month.”

  “He’s already fat—that might make it easier.”

  Craig nodded. “Good point.”

  He went to his computer and located the boss in question. He was pacing down the hallway of his Belfast office, screaming at all the underlings in his path.

  Craig shook his head with disappointment. “He’s not that fat.”

  Eliza pointed to the next prayer. “What about this one?”

  Please let the Mariners win the pennant for once in my fucking life.

  Mike Bear, 42, Seattle

  “I don’t know,” Craig said. “Sports are tough.”

  “How tough can they be?”

  “God’s a die-hard Yankees fan. He’s got six Archangels working on them every day—driving their fly balls fair, injuring their opponents. And they still win only about sixty percent of their games. It’s not worth the risk.”

  He picked up the next prayer:

  Dear God: Please don’t let my hamster die.

  Andrea Oran, 7, St. Louis

  Craig zoomed in on the little girl’s bedroom. Her hamster lay in the corner of a fetid cage, taking rapid, shallow breaths. Craig shook his head.

  “That hamster’s a goner.”

  They shuffled through the remaining prayers, their anxiety rapidly mounting. Everyone wanted the impossible: a Mega Millions jackpot, a perfect SAT score, a pony. Eventually, they were down to their last prayer. Craig took a
deep breath and unfolded it.

  It was a recent plea from a twenty-two-year-old New Yorker.

  Please let me and Laura be together.

  Sam Katz, March 23, 2011

  Craig banged his desk with frustration.

  “What’s wrong with that one?” Eliza asked.

  “Love miracles are impossible,” he said. “I’ve tried them—they never work.”

  “Why not?”

  “You can’t make two humans fall in love with each other. Too many variables.”

  “Like what?”

  “This Laura girl could be married, for all we know. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean they’ll ever love you back.”

  He picked up the prayer from Seattle. “How many games back are the Mariners?”

  Eliza shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  They sat for a minute in silence.

  “Hey—why is this one two pages?”

  He handed Eliza the love prayer, and she realized there was a second sheet stapled to it. She hadn’t noticed it at first; the pages had languished in God’s inbox for so long, they’d gotten stuck together.

  “That just means there’s a duplicate,” she explained. “Identical prayers are stapled together to save God time.”

  “So someone else wants Sam to get this Laura girl.”

  Eliza nodded.

  “Probably one of his buddies.”

  She unstapled the pages with a paper clip and read the first one out loud. “‘Please let me and Laura be together. Sam.’”

  “What’s the second page say?”

  Eliza’s eyes widened with excitement.

  “What?” Craig said. “Come on, read it.”

  “‘Please let me and Sam be together. Laura.’”

  The Angels made eye contact and grinned.

  “You want to know something?” Craig said. “That could work.”

  God passed Craig a book of carpet samples. “I can’t decide between the turquoise and the teal.”

  Craig nodded, his eyebrows furrowed to feign interest. “Is this for the main dining area?”

  “No,” God said. “The vestibule. When you first walk into the restaurant.”

  Craig flipped through the color options. “I think the teal,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Call me crazy, but I think it fits the mood. Especially if you’re going with beige for the tablecloths. You know—they’re both nice, muted colors.”

  God nodded. “That’s a good point.”

  He picked up his phone and dialed an extension.

  “Vince? I’m pulling the trigger on the vestibule carpet. That’s right. We’re going teal!”

  He stood up.

  “Well, I guess that’s everything,” he said proudly.

  Craig hesitated. “Actually, I was wondering—is it cool if we maybe talk for a second about that Earth thing?”

  God sat back down.

  “I forgot about that. What’s up?”

  Craig slid the pair of prayers across the desk.

  “I’m calling my shot,” he said.

  God squinted at the two slips of paper. “The wording’s a little vague. I mean, ‘be together’? That could mean anything.”

  “I don’t think it’s vague. It just means these two humans want to become a couple.”

  “Well, yeah, but at what moment do two people ‘become a couple’?”

  “I guess I don’t know,” Craig conceded. “What do you think?”

  God shrugged. “Intercourse?”

  Craig coughed. “I don’t think that’s fair,” he said. “I mean, that’s a lot to arrange in a month. How about this: we’ll say the prayer’s been answered if they go out on a date?”

  God considered his proposal.

  “I think it’s gotta be intercourse,” he said.

  Craig sighed.

  “How about a kiss,” he suggested.

  God stroked his chin. “What kind of kiss? We talking tongue?”

  Craig shook his head. “Let’s just say, on the lips. The prayer’s been answered if they kiss on the lips sometime in the next thirty days.”

  God thought about it.

  “Okay,” he said, thrusting out his hand. “Deal.”

  Craig shook God’s hand—and saw that his boss was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s never going to work.”

  Craig shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “How hard could it be?” he said. “They already want to be together. All I have to do is give them an opportunity.”

  “Just because you give the humans something doesn’t mean they’ll take advantage of it. They’re like goldfish. You can drop something right in front of their faces and they’ll just ignore it. Do you know how long it was before the humans tried fruit? Like, a thousand years. For a while they just walked up to the trees, poked at them with sticks, and ran away.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re afraid of everything. It’s their biggest defect. Other than the dying thing.”

  “Maybe those two are related?”

  “Oooh, Mr. Philosophy!”

  Craig looked down at his lap, embarrassed.

  “Well,” he mumbled. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “No need,” God told him. “I’ll be watching.”

  Eliza was sitting at her desk, waiting for Craig to return, when she heard screaming. It was coming from a cubicle down the hall. She ran toward the sound, assuming a colleague was hurt. But she quickly realized the noise was coming from a computer. Brian had left his desk in Physical Safety unattended.

  She stepped into Brian’s empty cubicle and peered at his screen. A suburban teenager was writhing next to a trampoline, clutching his ankle in agony.

  “Whoops,” Brian said, as he walked back from the bathroom. “Probably shouldn’t have left.”

  “Is he badly hurt?” Eliza asked.

  Brian glanced at the screen and laughed.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. He closed the window.

  “Man,” he said. “I am hung over.”

  He took a family-size tub of Alka-Seltzer out of his filing cabinet and shook some tablets onto his desk. The bottle, Eliza noticed, was almost empty.

  “You want to know something?” Brian said. “I’m a bad Angel.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “No, it’s true,” Brian said. “I am really bad at my job. You know how many injuries I’ve prevented this quarter? Two. And they were both paper cuts. Can you believe that? Two miracles in three months!”

  He squinted at Eliza, seeming to register her presence for the first time since she’d arrived in the department.

  “Has anyone given you a tour yet?” he asked.

  “Craig showed me the whole floor, General Well-Being, Physical Safety—”

  “That’s not a tour,” Brian interrupted. “The company’s more than just offices. We’ve got a whole badass campus at our disposal. The only company on Earth that comes close to this place is Google. And in my opinion, we’ve got them beat.”

  He tossed two Alka-Seltzer tablets into a bottle of water and waited for the liquid to fizz.

  “This heaven place has everything. Did you know there’s a sushi counter next to the beach volleyball court? It’s open twenty-four hours a day. If you show your wings, it’s free.”

  He pointed at her sternly. “Ask for the double dragon roll. If you order anything else, you’re a moron.”

  Eliza nodded.

  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Brian said. “Every Tuesday there’s massages in the pavilion. Find Lucy—she knows what she’s doing. She’s usually there from two till four.”

  “Aren’t those business hours?”

  Brian laughed. “Nobody cares if you skip work. Last month I took eleven personal days. Nobody said a word.”

  He smirked. “Craig probably didn’t even tell you we got personal days.”

  “He didn’t,” she admitt
ed.

  “He never takes advantage of this place.”

  “Maybe that’s because he’s too busy doing important work.”

  “Come on,” Brian said. “We’re not important. No matter how many miracles we pull off, it’s barely a drop in the ocean. This whole office is ridiculous. Honestly, I can’t wait for it to shut down.”

  “Maybe you’re just in the wrong department.”

  Brian shook his head. “They’re all bummers. Trust me—I’ve been everywhere.”

  “Where else have you worked?”

  Brian whistled. “Where do I start? I used to be in Geyser Regulation. That was a real nightmare. You literally do the same thing every day. And if you’re off by even five minutes, everyone freaks out.”

  “That does sound kind of rough.”

  “Not as rough as Volcano Suppression. Talk about a thankless job. You work a twenty-hour shift, stop a thousand volcanoes from erupting. And the next day, the only thing people want to talk about is the one you missed. Also, that was back before we got computers—so I had to map out everything by hand. With slide rules and protractors and these flimsy charcoal pencils. I was able to get a transfer, but then they stuck me in Beaches. And that’s when things really got bad.”

  He shuddered slightly at the memory.

  “I spent five years turning sand into glass,” he said. “Can you imagine? Sand into glass, sand into glass, sand into glass.”

  He gulped down his Alka-Seltzer.

  “Are there any departments that deal with important stuff?” Eliza asked.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like, sickness and famine and death?”

  “Oh. There’s the Department of Dire Situations—but it’s still in the experimental phase. The office is right next to the steam baths, and whenever I walk by, I hear people running around and yelling at each other. I don’t think anyone likes it there.”

  Eliza nodded, slightly dazed. The company was so vast it was impossible to visualize it all.

  “I gotta tell you,” Brian said. “If it wasn’t for the Server, I’d probably have gone insane by now.”

  “What Server?”

  Brian gaped at her. “Are you serious? Craig didn’t even show you how to work the Server?”