Glowhead

“Michael. Aziraphale.” The Metatron greets them like a kindly Uncle as they step out of the lift, an effect slightly spoilt by the fact he’s reverted to manifesting as a giant floating head. “The gang, as they say, is all here.”

“Mm,” squeaks Aziraphale, which is more than the stricken seeming archangels seem capable of at the moment. “Shall we take a look at the agenda?”

Uriel and Saraqael nod mechanically. Michael, still looking like the bottom has dropped out of their world, can’t even manage that. After a brief awkward moment Aziraphale gets on with it, waving his hands to manifest a giant scroll that unravels in the air between them. Written in old-fashioned looping script is the following:

Steering Committee Meeting XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXVIII

Present: Metatron, Aziraphale, Michael, Uriel, Saraqael

Apologies: Sandalphon, Raphael

Order of Business:

1) Redevelopment of the upper floor to incorporate the legions of scriveners and diviners (Proposer: Aziraphale)

2) Updated guidance on the proper use of desks (Proposer: Uriel)

3) Arrangement of appropriate raiment for Archangel Aziraphale (Proposer: Michael)

4) Cleaning roster (Standing Item)

“Off you go then, Aziraphale,” says the Metatron. “Talk us through your vision.”

“Right then,” says the Metatron, as they step forward together, out of the lift and into the shining atrium of Heaven. “Leave it to me to announce this little… shake up of the senior management team.”

Aziraphale blinks, preoccupied. Strictly speaking, Heaven doesn’t actually need air. Most of its denizens don’t breathe. But over millennia the exhalations of various corporeal entities passing through have given it something almost like an atmosphere.

It smells of something Aziraphale lacks the context to describe, but that Crowley could probably have identified as “new car.” It’s the polar opposite of old paper and floor polish, and far removed from the smell dust makes as it rises as glittering motes in shafts of sunlight. The opposite of home, in other words, and the band of iron around his ribs squeezes tighter. “I’m sorry?” he manages.

The Get Down: Cancelled after 1 season, Set in the late 1970s, when New York was at the brink of bankruptcy and disco was dying out, the rise of hip-hop is told through the lives, art, music and dance of a group of young people in the South Bronx.

The Babysitters Club: Cancelled after 2 seasons, A group of five middle-school friends decide to launch their very own babysitting business in Stoneybrook, Connecticut.