FIC: "Modesty"
Jan. 10th, 2005 10:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalNotes: In Nomine, rated G, mildly sappy.
He could have gone up the Ladder, the angels had all assured him, he had more than earned it. But it wouldn't have felt right. It had been nice to meet again with his mother and father, and his aunts, and his cousins, and everyone who had gone before him. But his wife and children were still in the world, and it just didn’t feel right to go on ahead without them.
Without Ruth especially, it wouldn't have been right. She had worn herself ragged, caring for him those last long two years. He didn't want her to hurry along by any means, but by God he was going to be there to greet her when she finally arrived. She'd earned her place here too, earned it long ago, the angels had told him.
"But isn't there anything you'd like to do, sir?" one them asked. One of the little fellow's from Jean's place, the not-quite-an-angel-yet, though it looked like he was going to fledge soon. Eager as a puppy he was to please, and the man felt ashamed that he couldn’t give him more to do.
It had been the Halls of Progress he'd naturally gravitated to. He'd always been good with electronics, working with vacuum tubes and transistors, and eventually left behind by the microchip, though he'd had fun fiddling with the early model home computer that he'd let his son persuade him to buy. The later PC's that had come along had been too complicated for him to understand, though he supposed now he could catch up on what he needed to know, if he really wanted to.
"I don't want to be any trouble," he'd told the angel. Which was the Truth (and wasn't that something? To know something was right, just by talking the lingo? He'd spent the first couple of days in Heaven just saying words out loud, to hear their beauty in Heaven's language.) "And you don't have to call me sir. Nobody ever did before, even when I was in the Army."
"It's no trouble, s--, I mean it isn't. Don't you want anything?"
“I’m fine. I’m in Heaven. What more could I want?”
“Heaven’s got everything! You can have a sweet computer setup if you want. We got stuff in storage that even AMD doesn’t have yet! You can build your own if you want to!”
“Had a computer at home. Heck, I don’t even know what I’d use it for up here. Who am I gonna send e-mail to?”
“But we’ve even got a version of Windows that really, really works!”
“Son, I’m okay. I don’t need anything right now.”
“Are you sure?” And he’d have been darned if the poor little thing’s eyes didn’t get terribly wide, and it's lip started to quiver, just like his daughter’s had when she’d been disappointed about one of his decisions.
“Wellll…” the man began to say, and the little baby angel’s ears perked up in anticipation. “Do you know where I could find a good telegraph, or a ham radio?”
“Telegraph? Ham radio?” the little angel said. “But… but… we’ve got computers!!”
“Got plenty of computers back home, but it’s been an awful long time since I’ve been able to tap a telegraph key to talk to anybody.”
“Telegraph key,” the little angel said grudgingly. “Ho’kay, let me see what we’ve got in the attic.” And he zoomed off in search of what the man had requested.
And sometimes, in the dark night on the Earth, ham radio operators can sometimes hear the dot, dot, dash, dash through their headphones, coming from no source that they can triangulate, and using no language they can recognize. But if they could put into words what they felt when they heard those little bursts of electronic noise, they might say it was satisfied.
He could have gone up the Ladder, the angels had all assured him, he had more than earned it. But it wouldn't have felt right. It had been nice to meet again with his mother and father, and his aunts, and his cousins, and everyone who had gone before him. But his wife and children were still in the world, and it just didn’t feel right to go on ahead without them.
Without Ruth especially, it wouldn't have been right. She had worn herself ragged, caring for him those last long two years. He didn't want her to hurry along by any means, but by God he was going to be there to greet her when she finally arrived. She'd earned her place here too, earned it long ago, the angels had told him.
"But isn't there anything you'd like to do, sir?" one them asked. One of the little fellow's from Jean's place, the not-quite-an-angel-yet, though it looked like he was going to fledge soon. Eager as a puppy he was to please, and the man felt ashamed that he couldn’t give him more to do.
It had been the Halls of Progress he'd naturally gravitated to. He'd always been good with electronics, working with vacuum tubes and transistors, and eventually left behind by the microchip, though he'd had fun fiddling with the early model home computer that he'd let his son persuade him to buy. The later PC's that had come along had been too complicated for him to understand, though he supposed now he could catch up on what he needed to know, if he really wanted to.
"I don't want to be any trouble," he'd told the angel. Which was the Truth (and wasn't that something? To know something was right, just by talking the lingo? He'd spent the first couple of days in Heaven just saying words out loud, to hear their beauty in Heaven's language.) "And you don't have to call me sir. Nobody ever did before, even when I was in the Army."
"It's no trouble, s--, I mean it isn't. Don't you want anything?"
“I’m fine. I’m in Heaven. What more could I want?”
“Heaven’s got everything! You can have a sweet computer setup if you want. We got stuff in storage that even AMD doesn’t have yet! You can build your own if you want to!”
“Had a computer at home. Heck, I don’t even know what I’d use it for up here. Who am I gonna send e-mail to?”
“But we’ve even got a version of Windows that really, really works!”
“Son, I’m okay. I don’t need anything right now.”
“Are you sure?” And he’d have been darned if the poor little thing’s eyes didn’t get terribly wide, and it's lip started to quiver, just like his daughter’s had when she’d been disappointed about one of his decisions.
“Wellll…” the man began to say, and the little baby angel’s ears perked up in anticipation. “Do you know where I could find a good telegraph, or a ham radio?”
“Telegraph? Ham radio?” the little angel said. “But… but… we’ve got computers!!”
“Got plenty of computers back home, but it’s been an awful long time since I’ve been able to tap a telegraph key to talk to anybody.”
“Telegraph key,” the little angel said grudgingly. “Ho’kay, let me see what we’ve got in the attic.” And he zoomed off in search of what the man had requested.
And sometimes, in the dark night on the Earth, ham radio operators can sometimes hear the dot, dot, dash, dash through their headphones, coming from no source that they can triangulate, and using no language they can recognize. But if they could put into words what they felt when they heard those little bursts of electronic noise, they might say it was satisfied.
