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We're No Angels

Maggie shows her angel wings

Greetings, Asylum Seekers.

Fantastic to see more of you have passed through the door. I am honored to host a mortal flock, such as this.

I will now answer the question that is on the tip of all of your tongues...

What exactly is she?

You use the word "angel," which I’ve stated I’m not the biggest fan of. But, I understand the necessity. It’s comfortable.

So, ANGEL. Fine.

However, let me discredit some of the preconceptions of what an “angel” actually is:

Yes, we are corporeal – meaning we possess a physical body. Contrary to popular belief, we do not float around in all manners, surveying everything you are doing at all hours of the day. The privacy implications would drive any mortal mad, especially when it comes to the lavatory... or the bedroom. No, to see an angel is to see a form in flesh: walking down the street – your eye catching us in the strangest of lights; holding open a door when you are bogged down by groceries; stepping into traffic to cause an oncoming car to lay on its brakes and avoid a head-on collision with your vehicle; handing you the most satisfying margarita you've ever tasted during a particularly stressful afternoon.

We are very much a part of your world. But it goes much deeper...

The Authority’s highest order of angel is known as the SERAPHIM. They are not to be trifled with. Purely celestial (heavenly bodies, in the literal sense), they very rarely mingle with the human world. They speak for the Source, our mother, and to hear their voice is so overwhelming - even for the lower-ranking angels - they utter no louder than a whisper.

Next are the DOMINIONS. This is the order from which I was birthed. Dominions are gifted power to be used in the mortal world, thus – as I mentioned - my ability to manipulate the blue flame. We are also marked, at divine birth, by our wings - not feather and hollow bone, but burned into our skin by the Source herself. Dominions are meant to fight, keep balance, prevent the dark from extinguishing the light. They are the generals in the Authority’s army.

I was one of its generals. I was foolish. Once again, for another time...

The third order are the ARCHANGELS. They are given much more credit than due, but they are workhorses and are allowed to represent the four orders on earth through calculated alterations of time and logic - you mortals refer to these as "miracles." Think of the Archangels as celebrities who have a celestial publicist in their corner (thus use of the word angel in their name). They know how to market themselves. I actually know Michael very well. Excellent guitar player. Quite an accomplished cook. As a warrior and pupil, satisfactory. I’ll leave you to salivate over that. Then we have Gabriel, the most popular of the Archangels, the one that gets the most press. I can’t blame him. It’s a combination of those sensitive eyes and the cheekbones.

Something about those cheekbones. Just wait 'til you meet these guys...

Finally, we come to the bottom-feeders of the four orders: the GUIDES. They keep the human race on their toes, but also tightly monitor the daily ebb and flow of the human population. They are on every continent, around every corner, involved in every industry and seat of power. And to answer a question that I’m sure one of you is pondering: No, the Guides don’t always take human form. Think on that the next time a stray dog crosses your path or a pigeon defecates on your windshield.

Every move we make moves the universe along.

Our presence in the world is also supremely beneficial to sentencing here in the Asylum. From birth, each mortal soul is watched closely, given a dark stain with each transgression: a moment of greed, a wicked thought, violence towards another... The taking of a life - whether someone else’s, or your own.

Everything is tallied once your physical shell has been tossed aside and your soul is weighed against the angel-recorded moments of your life. Think of it in terms of pure analytics. Or, better yet, a credit score. Anything above 700, you are delivered to paradise in whatever form that shall take, surrounded by your loved ones, tropical beach barbecues, endless raves with bubble pits and the greatest Molly known to woman, or – if you are so inclined – a quiet, fireplace-lit corner with shelves upon shelves of the greatest authors in history (both mortal and celestial) at your disposal. Anything below 300 and you can enjoy an eternal night of rioting and pillaging in the streets; or sitting through your daughter’s ballet recital on loop, if that's your idea of mind-numbing pain; or playing Fortnite, yet you’re a physical part of the game and your weapon choices are a grappler or a simple revolver. That can get bloody and, yes, I am a gamer.

Between 300 and 700, you end up here. You’ve earned copious amounts of stringent rehabilitation in an Asylum cell, and it is all thanks to your angel Guides on earth and their Source-given ability to function as the greatest snitches of all time.

How was that for Angel 101?

Next time, we’ll discus what happens when a soul finds itself sentenced to the Asylum - from processing, to time served, and rehabilitation.

Till then, continue to make the right choices.

My advice? Stay above 700.

- Maggie.


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