The angel said, "If there are such people, and I can't believe it is so,
but if there are such people, then is it not your job to pull them from
their zombi slumber and provide the consciousness they lack?"

"They are convinced they are alive! They are convinced they need
not think of spirituality as long as they have consumer goods.
Spirituality to them is the right combination of consumer goods and
luxury apparel. Spirituality is the satisfaction of certain arbitrary
responsibilities, and the temporary cease of toil in a surcease of
responsibility. A temporary lull in the toil, and a satisfying shit on
the toilet. It's actually not even their symbiosis with advertising
that's so loathsome. If there were no advertising, even so they would
then be mindless in pursuit of some other mindlessness. All through time,
there have been such people, and they are the bane of the existence of
quality human beings."

"Well, this is an interesting, if not new observation. But as it happens,
the 'fallen' state of the earth can be very easily described. The earth
is a training ground for new beings. Like children, they start off a
curious mixture of ignorance and simple wisdom. With a little learning,
they proceed to lives of boring drudgery or hideous violence. They are
learning how to handle the extremes of energy. This was understood by
Blake. At some point — rarely in the first life, perhaps in the tenth —
their eyes begin to lift from the ground and for the first time they see
the stars. The frequency of their souls increases, and they begin to
radiate light and heat and love. And ultimately, they'll leave this
plane, just as you will. Their frequency will increase until they no
longer coincide with this spectrum. This hinted at unsuccessfully by
Redfield.

"Earth would be composed entirely of these fallen angels were it not for
the existence of both the pre-ascended, and the bodhisattvas. And make no
mistake — helping others is a valuable and valiant enterprise,
appreciated in no small measure throughout the universes. It may seem at
times that it's like shouting into an abandoned mine, or like slapping
the face of an angry tiger. But believe me, there are ears, and they do
capture sounds, and the content of these sounds are logged for future
reference, whether years or centuries down the road — so even if the
recipient isn't receptive, their ears are eager mouths hungry for
instructive information.

"But to the matter at hand — it does you no good to loathe and rail at
the ignorant. Of course, they're ignorant, that's the point. It's
apparent to all, and it's not a problem that will ever go away. That's
what earth is for, you see. It's a cradle for babies. The earth is a
creche, and it's full of newly sprung souls with their milkteeth. Sure,
advertising hangs hooks — so hang your own hooks! Set your drift lines
and cast out your nets, and reel in your own catch. Bring them into the
hold, feed them with nutritious goodies and chemicals, and throw them
back into the sea a little smarter, a little brighter, a little quicker.

"Or, continue your cacophonous curmudgeonly ranting and do no one no
good."

"Oh, bother. Curmudgeonly ranting is sort of fun, a good way to exercise
the fingers. And besides, how will I prove how intelligent I am if I
don't amusingly cut down the simple folk with piquantly contrived and
pithily conceived witticisms? Drat. I must prove it to myself constantly,
though I loathe it as well. Ah, fie on it, I am floundering in a black
mucky bog of my own filth. Like the others, I feel I want to package and
sell my own shit. Just because there are people who like the taste. Just
because there is a ready market for the warm coils of my steaming poisoned
poo."

The Angel produced a frosty glass of soma. "Drink this," she said.
"You'll feel better."

"What is it?"

"New milk in the moonlight, such as the Sidhe drink."

Joe drank. Frosty and refreshing. She said, "So, in the last analysis:
writing complaining of the foibles of human beings is questionable at
best, useless in the middle, and a spreader of hate & cliché at worst.
Impotent hate which can be used to build nothing. Ignorant attitudes that
close down love and understanding and narrow the already slender minds."

Joe shrugged. "I guess so," he said. He put down the glass.