The Everything Box by Richard Kadrey
“Yeah. How was it you and me and a whole goddamn glee club were all pulling jobs at the same time at the same place?”
“The glee club, I don’t know anything about,” said Coop. “About you and me being in the same building at the same time, well, I set you up.”
“You what?” Fast Eddie growled. He sounded like a wolf chewing glass.
“I set you up. I needed a distraction for my job, so I arranged a job for you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re an asshole, Eddie. And you deserved it.”
“Maybe you ought to calm down a little,” Giselle said to Coop.
“Yeah. Maybe you ought to calm down and remember you’re talking to a very big man with a very big gun.”
Coop leaned back on the couch. “Go fuck yourself, Eddie,” he said. “You’re going to shoot us no matter what I say, so in case you didn’t hear me the first time, take your gun and go fuck yourself on the teacup ride at Disneyland. I hear it’s two for one tomorrow, so you might not have to buy an extra ticket for that gut of yours.”
“Thank you, Coop,” said Eddie. “I haven’t shot anybody in a while. I was even considering swearing off it, but you’re making this easy. One last blast for the road.” Fast Eddie straightened his arm and took aim between Coop’s eyes. He cocked the trigger.
Just as Giselle said, “Fuck it,” and turned herself and Coop invisible, Fast Eddie exploded. Not his gun. Fast Eddie. It was loud. And messy. And more than a little unexpected.
Coop and Giselle lay sprawled on the couch watching bits and pieces of Eddie peel off the ceiling and flop onto the floor.
“You okay?” said Coop.
“Yeah. You?” said Giselle.
“Okay, I think. You see that guy by the door?”
“Yeah.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s not DOPS?”
“I don’t think so,” said Giselle.
Coop reached and pushed Eddie’s pistol—and what appeared to be a couple of fingers—under the sofa, away from the disheveled man in the dirty pants and the clean UCLA letter jacket.
“I’m so glad I got here in time,” said the disheveled man.
“Me, too,” said Coop. “Who the hell are you? And what did you do to Eddie?”
“Was that his full name?” said the mystery man.
“Fast Eddie.”
“Unusual. I’ll say a prayer for him later, but I don’t have time right now.”
“Why’s that?” said Giselle.
“I need to talk to this man next to you. My name is Qaphsiel. What’s yours?”
“Barney Rubble. And what was it you said you did to Eddie? I didn’t see a gun or anything.”
Qaphsiel shook his head. “No, I don’t carry weapons, Barney. And I don’t have all of my old powers, so I just discorporated him.”
“You blew him up.”
Qaphsiel looked around the room. “It was a bit messy, wasn’t it? Sorry. Maybe this will help with the cleanup.” He bent over and dropped a handful of gold coins onto a dry spot on the coffee table.
Coop and Giselle looked at each other. Coop said, “Hold still,” plucked something red from her hair, made a face, and tossed it away.
“What was that?” she said.
“Don’t ask.”
Coop looked at the gold and then Qaphsiel. “That real?”
“Of course. I’m sure it’s more than enough to cover the damages.”
“I would have taken a check.”
Qaphsiel put his hands together. “I know this is a lot to take in at once, Barney.”
Coop realized that he and Giselle were holding hands. He let go and picked up a couple of the gold coins. He gave one to her and turned one over in his hand. “What’s to take in? You bust in, blow a guy up, and now you dump a load of gold on me? It’s just another night in Hollywood, right?”
Qaphsiel glanced over his shoulder and closed the front door. “I didn’t actually break in, you see. The door wasn’t closed all the way. When I tried to knock, it swung open, and I saw what was about to happen.”
“Why would you want to get involved?” said Giselle. “Most people would have run away.”
“Yes. Well. That. You see, I’m not most people,” said Qaphsiel. “I’m an angel.”
Coop sighed. “You know, in the last few days, I’ve taken orders from a dead man, hung out with poltergeists, vampires, werewolves, people with tentacles, people with gills, and seen the inside of a turd submarine. After all that, I shouldn’t be surprised when someone tells me they’re an angel, but you know what? I am.”
Qaphsiel brushed some Eddie off the beanbag chair and wiped down the seat with the sleeve of his letter jacket. He pulled the chair over to where Coop and Giselle sat.
“There’s something you need to know, Barney.”
“My name isn’t Barney. It’s Coop.”
“You lied? I envy you that. Angels aren’t supposed to lie. It would make my life here a lot easier if I could.”
“I’m having a very strange moment here, Coop,” Giselle muttered.
“Me, too,” he said. He looked at Qaphsiel. “Let’s back up a minute. You’re an angel who just happened to stumble into this apartment—”
“I didn’t stumble in. As I said, the door was open, so I—”
“I mean, you were just strolling by and decided to come up?”
“No. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“The box.”
Coop and Giselle looked at each other again.
“Coop is right,” she said. “We’ve seen a lot of funny things recently. How do we know you’re an angel?”
Qaphsiel thought for a moment. He’d forgotten about how hard it was for modern mortals to accept the concept of celestial creatures walking among them. The extent of their imaginations seemed limited to the certainty that cats were the best animals, extraterrestrials actually existed, Jim Morrison and Amelia Earhart were still alive and an item in Paris, and reptile people from the center of the Earth controlled all world governments. Only one of those things was true, but try explaining that to mortals. It didn’t help, Qaphsiel knew, that he was trying to prove his divinity in cheap plastic sandals and a used college jacket, all while sinking slowly into a beanbag chair. “Well, I just blew up someone,” he said. “That was a pretty good trick.”
Coop shook his head. “Not good enough.”
“All right,” said Qaphsiel. He stood and took off his jacket, letting his wings unfurl from his sides. In a voice that shook the whole house he said, “How’s this?”
“Pretty good. Especially the voice. Please don’t do it again,” said Coop. “I’m not saying I buy the angel thing, but you saved our asses and that makes you okay for the time being. Why don’t you put your jacket back on? You’re getting some Eddie on your wings.”
Qaphsiel looked and, sure enough, there were red smudges on the tops and ends of his wings. “I don’t suppose you have a shower?” he said.
“Can we do this somewhere else?” said Giselle, rubbing her nose. “The smell is a little strong in here.”
“I can make the remains go away, if you’d like,” said Qaphsiel. “Would that help?”
“If you can make Eddie go away, why did you give us cleanup money?” said Coop.
The angel shrugged. “Mortals like gold. And you’re a thief. It seemed logical.”
Coop held up his hands. “If you can fix this, wiggle your nose or blink or whatever and do it.”
“Of course.” A second later, the mess was gone. The room looked exactly the same as it had before Qaphsiel came in. Except for the smell. A subtle eau d’Eddie hung in the air. Coop went around the living room opening windows.
“How’s that?” said Qaphsiel.
“It’ll do for now,” said Coop.
Giselle was feeling in her hair, and seemed pleased not to come away with anything anatomical.
“The box,” said Qaphsiel. “The box. I’ve been looking for it for four thousand years. I must have it back.”
“What do you want with the box?” said Coop.
Qaphsiel looked uncomfortable. “Do we really have to talk about that? You might not like it.”
“Oh,” said Giselle, “then we absolutely want to hear what you want with the box.”
“Here’s the thing,” said Qaphsiel. “Inside the box is, well, what you would call the Apocalypse.”
“What does that mean?” said Coop.
Qaphsiel looked around, raised a hand, dropped it. “You know. The Apocalypse. Armageddon. The Four Horsemen. The end of all things.”
“Wait a minute. The DOPS said it was just some kind of techno bomb,” said Coop.
“And Babylon said it was full of luck,” said Giselle.
Coop looked from Giselle back to Qaphsiel. “That’s three stories about the damned thing. There any more we should know about?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Qaphsiel. “There are two groups right here in Los Angeles—cults, you’d call them—who believe the box will summon their dark, demonic gods back to Earth to destroy it and enslave mankind.”
“I guess that explains the glee club at the Blackmoore Building. They must have been looking for the box, too.”
“And if anyone opens the box, the world will be destroyed?” said Giselle.
“Yes.”
“Then why should I help you get it?” said Coop. “You’re probably the one who brought it here to destroy us in the first place, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened? Why is the Earth still here?” said Giselle.
Qaphsiel looked at the floor. “I lost it.”
“Lucky us.”
Qaphsiel looked back up. “Unlucky me. I’ve been exiled on Earth all these years and can’t get back into Heaven unless I find the box and destroy the Earth.”
Coop nodded, before finally saying, “Yeah . . . we’re going to have to take a pass on that.”
“What?”
“Forget it. Thanks for taking out Eddie and all, but I’ll tell you what I told him: go fuck yourself on the teacups.”
Qaphsiel thought for a minute. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you help me find the box, I won’t use it. Not right away. Let’s say, I wait another hundred years? I’m sure I can talk to someone in Heaven. With another hundred years, maybe mankind can redeem itself and the Earth can be saved.”
“You know, it’s weird. I hate almost every single person on this planet at the moment, but I still wouldn’t want the whole thing wiped out, even in a hundred years.”
“Two hundred?”
“Promise whatever you like—it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have the box,” said Coop. “The DOPS has it and there’s no way of getting it back.”
“There must be. You’re a master thief.” Qaphsiel looked at Giselle. “You’re one, too, right? Surely between the two of you, you can think of something.”
Giselle shook her head. “Coop’s right. Even if we knew where it was, there’s no way to get it out of the DOPS.”
“You heard the lady,” said Coop. “Besides, it’s safe there. They think it’s a bomb. No one is going to open it.”
“But what if they do?” said Qaphsiel.
Giselle put a hand on Coop’s shoulder. “You know, they just might. They really want to know what’s inside the box, and if they think they can defuse the bomb . . .”
“Hold on just one minute,” said Coop. “You claim you’re an angel. You’ve been on Earth for four thousand years. You blew a guy up and then you made him disappear. Why don’t you just magic your way into the DOPS and take the damned box yourself?”
“Because I’m an angel,” said Qaphsiel. “I’m not allowed to steal.”
“But why come to me?” said Coop. “There are a thousand thieves in L.A.”
Qaphsiel stood and said, again in the voice that shook the house, “Because you’re the Chosen One. The Savior of Mankind.”
“What? Really?” said Coop.
Qaphsiel sat down. “No. That was my little joke. Sorry. I don’t get to talk to people that much,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“You’re just a person, but not just any person. You’re someone at a party who bumps into someone, who bumps into someone, who bumps into someone who spills a drink on the host. See? You’re part of a chain reaction that’s been running for thousands of years. Plus, you’re the only thief I know. And you seem relatively honest.”
“Relatively,” said Giselle.
“You still have my stone,” said Coop.
She ignored him. “None of this matters. The DOPS probably already has the box in a vault. It’s over and done with.”
Qaphsiel slumped in the beanbag chair. “After all these years,” he said.
“Sorry. Is there anything we can do for you?”
The angel looked around the apartment. “I sleep in the park most of the time, but I don’t really want to go back there tonight. If I leave you the gold, can I sleep on your sofa?”
“I suppose. You did save us from Eddie,” said Coop. “Yeah, you can stay. But keep your gold. The sofa isn’t that comfortable.”
“See? An honest thief,” said Qaphsiel.
Someone knocked at the door. Coop walked over quietly and peered through the glass peephole. He looked disgusted and pulled the door open. It was a kid holding a pizza box in his hands.
“Hi. That’s twenty-two fifty,” he said.
Coop pulled two twenties from his pocket and handed them to the kid. “Keep the change,” he said.
Qaphsiel leaned, resting his elbows on his knees.
Coop motioned for Giselle to come with him across the room.
“What do you think? Is he really an angel?” she said.
Coop shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m a little past being surprised by anything right now.”
“Me, too.” Giselle opened the pizza box an inch and sniffed it. “Smells good,” she said.
“Yeah. It does.”
She got a little closer to Coop and spoke softly. “You know, that was almost gallant what you did back there. Getting between me and Eddie.”
“I just didn’t want him to see you and think I’m dating a cop.”
Giselle cocked her head. “Dating? Are we dating now?”
“You know what I mean.”
She glanced over at Qaphsiel, who seemed lost in his own celestial misery. “So, one last time, are you going to send me home? I’d like to remind you that there’s something out there that can destroy the world.”
“If we believe that guy,” said Coop.
“And even if no one opens the box, they might bump it wrong or x-ray it, and set it off without meaning to.”
Coop nodded and looked at her, holding the pizza box between them. “That would be a bad thing.”
“It would be worse if you threw me out.”
“Yeah, if I did that, you’d probably forget all that gallant stuff.”
“You can bet your ass on that. Gone like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“Tough choice for me,” said Coop. “If I let you stay I have to share my pizza.”
Giselle pinched his arm hard.
“Ow.”
“The world could literally end tonight. You’re seriously going to send me home alone?”
Coop looked at the pizza. At Qaphsiel. At Giselle. “You want to finish Forbidden Planet and eat pizza in my room?”
She smiled. “You know how robots turn me on.”
Coop looked back at the angel. “Hey, Qaphsiel. There’s blankets in the hall closet. Feel free not to knock on my door. If Morty comes in, don’t blow him up. And don’t tell him you’re an angel. Tell him you’re someone I knew in jail.”
“I can’t lie,” said Qaphsiel.
??
“Thank you.”
“Good night,” she said. She was going to say something else, but Coop was already pulling her into his room. She closed and locked the door.
THIRTY-TWO
THE NEXT MORNING, GISELLE FOUND COOP ON HIS knees making retching noises in front of the toilet.
He was dressed in his pajama bottoms. She was in his one clean shirt. “Are you all right?” she said. “Was it the pizza?”
Coop waved a hand at her, staying on his knees. “Don’t worry. It’s just my traditional someone-tried-to-shoot-me-oh-god-is-there-a-spider-on-my-face ritual.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah. If anyone asks, tell them about how brave I was and not this.”
“Sure. You want me to put on some coffee?”
“Please.”
Giselle waved to Qaphsiel, who was sitting on the couch. “Morning. Do you want coffee, too?”
“Thank you, but I don’t eat. I like the smell, though.”
“One cup of brown steam for you.”
Coop spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, washing up and brushing his teeth, gargling, and doing it over again. Back when he was a teenager and just learning to drink, he’d decided that morning puking was the worst kind because it was essentially the outside and inside of your body fighting over which wanted to commit suicide first. His insides were winning this morning, but by the time Coop came out of the bathroom, his outsides were making a comeback and he could stand and walk. As long as nobody pointed any guns at him today, he thought, everything was going to be fine.
Coop saw Qaphsiel on the couch, blankets and sheets neatly folded beside him.
“Did you sleep last night?”
“Yes. Thank you for letting me stay. It was a lot nicer than the park.”
“Not by much, I bet.” Coop knocked on Morty’s door. No one answered. “Did you see Morty last night?”
Qaphsiel shook his head.
“Good for Morty,” said Giselle, coming out of the kitchen. “I wonder if his Russian is one of those bodybuilder types? I hope she didn’t break him.”
“Morty’s fine. I guess this DOPS mess has worked out better for us than I thought it would.”