Foreword

"The Judgment, or the Memoirs of the Angel Uriel" are the two titles under which this ardent and ever so strange history was written. It has been a work in progress for many speculative years, ever since I was a young girl—of course, at the time when I first met the said author of these memoirs; I had no notion of the nature that would come from our acquaintance.

It was shortly after my first novel ("Nowhere") in which the initial little throb of this concept pulsed through the vast crevices of my mind. Although having met Uriel in my youth, I had no capacity or knowledge to tell the true story of Heaven's millennias of history as it should have been told. What little information I had was eventually used as a foundation for my later novels (my infamous "Adam and Eve" and my blasphemous little novel "The Republic" that sent critics and readers alike into a fury of controversy). By all means, I attempted—through mountains of research, investigations, et cetera—to capture the essence of Heaven's identity. Unfortunately, all efforts failed miserably. It was the only regret I had in life.

It is terrible when a writer cannot complete his or her life's passion—of course, for me, that passion became much more of a success in my death than life.

At age 94, I died in my sleep on a sofa in front of a burning amber fireplace—my three children and seven grandchildren having fallen asleep long before. I was mourned. Televisions around the world broadcasted the news of my timely demise. Memorials under firefly candlelights were held; cinematic tributes were made to my novels and life; monuments were carved in my name; and libraries never lacked one of my books. I had a good life; and I had a great death.

My own memoir ("Taboo") was eventually brought into the effervescent limelight by the young girl I had entrusted it to only ten infinitesimal years after my death. My memoir was the last of my legacy to present so much debate to my readers (but as I always said, life is boring without a little controversy). It told my story—and that of my parents. Although I am proud of it, I so would have loved to tell that impious history of Heaven.

This affair I had with Uriel began long before I met my husband (bless his soul), when I turned the ripened age of nineteen years. At first, it was only a childish girl's infatuation with this enigmatic, dark haired Angel—and for him, the fascination of a strange mortal girl. I knew long ago he loved Alexiel—I had not quips about it. But year after year, he would visit; we would talk, of Heaven and what was left of Hell, my father, and my life and his. He was the dearest friend I've ever had; it was a dear friendship that ultimately flourished into love.

However, this relationship was only able to truly exist after my death—when I was released from my mortal body, when, once again, I looked as if I was sixteen. As he had remembered me. Eventually, after all the time we had spent together at his Death manor in Hades, I became his acknowledged consort.

I never attempt to coax him into writing this history—in fact; he proposed it all on his own. I would be the pen to his hand, he had said. We both believed it to be necessary for it to be told, that history. It was a work that took much effort and memory to accomplish; but it was done. Many things occurred to the "real" people after the end of this memoir that I should include.

A said Cherub was awakened from her watery coma and became a major voice in Heaven's Republic, and a certain doctor married and borne a son. The so-called "worthless one" rejoined Heaven (in a some respect), along with her illustrious lover—they helped to reshape what was left of Hell and Limbo. A childish General was a child no longer (finally grown) and a general without a war—he is perhaps the greatest advocate for the alliance between Gehenna and Atziluth. The "Angel of Mysteries" still leads Heaven as its captain—a boy no longer, but a young man in the bloom. Lastly, the remnant of God's greatest adversary seems to be awakening again.

This memoir is not only meant to tell the story of Heaven's evolution from a Kingdom to a Republic—rather, it is exploration of Angel kind as a race and civilization; an investigation into the very schematics of God's great design. In short, it can be thought of as a study into the very worth of breathing—because it is something we are all still calculating.