Good Omens

bird—”
    â€œOnly it is the end of the universe we’re talking about,” said Aziraphale. “So it’d have to be one of those spaceships where your descendants are the ones who get out at the other end. You have to tell your descendants, you say, When you get to the Mountain, you’ve got to—” He hesitated. “What have they got to do?”
    â€œSharpen its beak on the mountain,” said Crowley. “And then it flies back—”
    â€œâ€”in the spaceship—”
    â€œAnd after a thousand years it goes and does it all again,” said Crowley quickly.
    There was a moment of drunken silence.
    â€œSeems a lot of effort just to sharpen a beak,” mused Aziraphale.
    â€œListen,” said Crowley urgently, “the point is that when the bird has worn the mountain down to nothing, right, then—”
    Aziraphale opened his mouth. Crowley just knew he was going to make some point about the relative hardness of birds’ beaks and granite mountains, and plunged on quickly.
    â€œâ€”then you still won’t have finished watching The Sound of Music.”
    Aziraphale froze.
    â€œAnd you’ll enjoy it,” Crowley said relentlessly. “You really will.”
    â€œMy dear boy—”
    â€œYou won’t have a choice.”
    â€œListen—”
    â€œHeaven has no taste.”
    â€œNow—”
    â€œAnd not one single sushi restaurant.”
    A look of pain crossed the angel’s suddenly very serious face.
    â€œI can’t cope with this while ’m drunk,” he said. “I’m going to sober up.”
    â€œMe too.”
    They both winced as the alcohol left their bloodstreams, and sat up a bit more neatly. Aziraphale straightened his tie.
    â€œI can’t interfere with divine plans,” he croaked.
    Crowley looked speculatively into his glass, and then filled it again.
    â€œWhat about diabolical ones?” he said.
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œWell, it’s got to be a diabolical plan, hasn’t it? We’re doing it. My side.”
    â€œAh, but it’s all part of the overall divine plan,” said Aziraphale. “Your side can’t do anything without it being part of the ineffable divine plan,” he added, with a trace of smugness.
    â€œYou wish!”
    â€œNo, that’s the—” Aziraphale snapped his fingers irritably. “The thing. What d’you call it in your colorful idiom? The line at the bottom.”
    â€œThe bottom line.”
    â€œYes. It’s that.”
    â€œWell … if you’re sure … ” said Crowley.
    â€œNo doubt about it.”
    Crowley looked up slyly.
    â€œThen you can’t be certain, correct me if I’m wrong, you can’t be certain that thwarting it isn’t part of the divine plan too. I mean, you’re supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren’t you?”
    Aziraphale hesitated.
    â€œThere is that, yes.”
    â€œYou see a wile, you thwart. Am I right?”
    â€œBroadly, broadly. Actually I encourage humans to do the actual thwarting. Because of ineffability, you understand.”
    â€œRight. Right. So all you’ve got to do is thwart. Because if I know anything,” said Crowley urgently, “it’s that the birth is just the start. It’s the upbringing that’s important. It’s the Influences. Otherwise the child will never learn to use its powers.” He hesitated. “At least, not necessarily as intended.”
    â€œCertainly our side won’t mind me thwarting you,” said Aziraphale thoughtfully. “They won’t mind that at all.”
    â€œRight. It’d be a real feather in your wing.” Crowley gave the angel an encouraging smile.
    â€œWhat will happen to the child if it doesn’t get a Satanic upbringing, though?” said Aziraphale.
    â€œProbably nothing. It’ll never know.”
    â€œBut genetics—”
    â€œDon’t tell me from genetics. What’ve they got to do with it?” said Crowley. “Look at Satan. Created as an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you’re going to go on about genetics, you might as well say the kid will grow up to be an angel. After all, his father was really big in Heaven in the old days. Saying he’ll grow up to be a demon just because his dad became one is like saying a mouse with its tail cut off will