visual of where he wished to meet. The panel replied with a familiar tone of recording success.
Gabriel disconnected. He turned and took in his apartment like a thirsty Angel takes in light. If he was being sent out, he could be gone years, maybe decades. Gabriel tasted the anguish in his mouth. He would be without his own consciousness the entire assignment. His mind would be his own for one moment, and then decades could pass without his knowledge. Then he would wake up back in Heaven. His actions during his assignment would be unknown to him until he interacted with a comm panel. Then, the rain of images would overwhelm him, just as they overwhelmed every Archangel. There would be a long period of recovery while another Archangel began a review. It would be even longer for him to recover emotionally. And after that he would welcome his surroundings once again. Methodically, Gabriel sat in his favorite chair, a heavy cotton arm chair so dark red it was nearly black. The chair was overstuffed yet firm. it seemed to melt around and support him.
Now and again, when work was slow, Archangels were allowed to revisit their visited worlds, mostly to review and confirm reports from oversight. Archangels were also mandated to review evolving civilizations, to become familiar with technology, and to record the rise and fall of nations. Decades ago, he had looked in on a living relative of Muhammad, twenty three generations removed. The woman, unaware of her lineage, had settled in Cyprus after the death of her father. She was struggling to bring something called, 'interior design' to that region of the world. Gabriel had observed her over the course of several days, noting her thoughts and actions, weighing them against her religious upbringing. What had caught Gabriel's attention was her obsession with ordering a chair. She knew that even within her own apartment, she would be judged against her creative style. Over the course of many days she had settled on this chair. After delivery, the descendent of Muhammad had moved the chair to many locations before deciding its true place. The day after she had moved it last, Gabriel had reached into her, found her emotional satisfaction, attachment, joy, and love for this chair. Love for a chair. Rubbing both his hands over the chair arms, he allowed the sensation of the fabric to command his tactile senses. Gabriel recalled her emotional memory and knew he had made this memory his own. The melody of distant memories was sweet. He allowed himself to swim inside these emotions. Her pride, his pride, her joy, now his joy revisited swelled within Gabriel. There was no sensation quite like this in Heaven. Gabriel had witnessed the creation of gun powder, control of the sea, the advent of flight, nuclear weapons, mass communications, and through currency debt — the enslavement of mankind. Few enough memories were sweet.
He stood and scanned his living quarters. Gabriel recalled where he had first seen these terrestrial items. He created most of them from memories of his past visits to Earth. Because Gabriel could not recall first person memories from his visits — all of his paintings were from a third person perspective recalled from panel reports. Each was a scene Gabriel found striking while reviewing his own actions. It was difficult, at times to remove himself from the image. Two were of Mary: one from the moment she had accepted and embraced her fate; the other of the moment her and her child had first shared eye contact. Gabriel had included more surrounding into the image of Mary and child. It seemed impersonal now. Gabriel realized he had failed to appreciate his belongings often enough. He touched a corner of the painting's frame, shifting the perspective and zooming closer to their faces. Gabriel moved the reference point, in three dimensions, before settling on a pleasing vantage. The faces of Mary and her future were now the main objects in the frame. There was a small fire