Only Human by Tom Holt

‘You’re being very childish and silly, mind, and I’ll tell Himself so when He gets home, but if that’s the way you want it, that’s up to you. Kevin, pass me that manual.’
    Kevin grimaced. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but actually it’s not much . . .’
    â€˜Don’t be silly.’ Martha produced a pair of reading glasses from the pocket of her pinny and perched them on her nose. ‘Now then, let me see. Stabilisers, psychomorphic waveband, adjustment of: page three. And here we are . . . Oh.’
    Kevin chewed his lip for a moment. ‘What’s it say?’ he asked.
    â€˜See for yourself.’ Martha handed him the book, and he read:
    Psychomorphic waveband stabilisers, to adjust; oh come off it, okay?You, an all-powerful, all-knowing supreme being, want us, a puny little mortal software company, to tell you how to do a simple little thing like that? What is this, an initiative test?
    â€˜Told you it wasn’t much help,’ Kevin said. ‘Mind you, they’ve got a point. Under normal circumstances, I mean, because . . .’
    â€˜Kevin. Stop babbling and give me the manual back.’ Martha took the book and flicked through the opening pages until she found what she was looking for. ‘Here we are!’ she cried. ‘“If you have any enquiries that are not covered by this handbook, consult our twenty-four-hour Freefone helpline service on 0666 66666.” As simple as that.’
    â€˜Except that the phones are out.’
    Martha frowned. ‘So they are, what a nuisance. Just a moment, though. What about the payphone down in the staff canteen? That’s on a different circuit.’
    Kevin caught his breath. ‘Is it? Gosh. I didn’t know that. Come to think of it, I didn’t know there was a payphone in the staff canteen. Didn’t know there was a staff canteen, either. Is there a staff canteen?’
    Martha looked at him. ‘Of course there is,’ she replied. ‘It’s on level 5A. Actually, I don’t go there very often myself, because the food’s rather dull, but . . .’
    â€˜Dull?’
    Martha nodded. ‘Bread and fish,’ she explained. ‘It’s a subsidised canteen. But they have got a phone. And I’m sure I heard someone say it was a separate line. Let’s try that, shall we?’
    â€˜Huh? Oh, right,’ Kevin replied, his mind still trying to decode the bit about bread and fish. ‘And if we can’t get anything from the helpline, we can ring Dad, and . . .’
    Martha sighed. ‘It’s a payphone, Kevin. He’s in a different galaxy , remember. Even if we broke into the Social Club swear-box, I don’t think we’ve got enough small change for that.’
    â€˜Then we could ring the operator. Try reversing the charges or something, I don’t know. There must be something . . . ’ His eyebrows lifted. ‘Oh, I see ,’ he exclaimed, ‘About the subsidised food.’
    Martha nodded. ‘Two loaves and five fishes,’ she said. ‘Good plain food and we get luncheon vouchers, but I’d just as soon have a Cornish pasty. Come on.’
    Â 
    In the darkness, something scuttled.
    â€˜You’re right,’ said a voice. ‘They have.’
    â€˜Told you so.’
    Then there was silence for a while, an absence of sound as absolute as the absence of light. It wouldn’t do to try and give an impression of how long the silence lasted, because that might create an illusion that Time worked down here. The passage of time and the movement of light are, of course, linked by Einstein’s chain. They’re a double act, effectively inseparable; Time/Light Inc. Completely remove one, and the other ceases to have any real meaning.
    â€˜Money?’ enquired the first voice.
    Welcome to Hell; which is like anywhere else, in that it has its nice bits and other bits which aren’t quite as