In The Center of the Garden by lady_oneiros Title: In the Center of the Garden Rating: PG Disclaimer: Good Omens and all related characters therein do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: The King James Version made it sound more dignified. 8888 “I don’t know about this…” Crawly felt like bashing his head as hard as he could against the tree trunk, if only because he would have had a harder time convincing the eagles that they were indeed predatory and that they would be doing him a favor if they simply carried him away to a high nest somewhere far away where hungry, also carnivorous, chicks were waiting. At this point, the idea of being discorporated and sent back to Hell seemed almost preferable to this project he had decided to undertake. Trouble, they had said. Cause some trouble. Easier said than done. “Look, what are you so hesitant about? They’re delicious, just look at them. Perfectly ripe, well-formed, no brown spots…they’re even shiny. Your sort likes shiny things, right?” Eve frowned at the snake, and looked back at the apples that were hanging from the perfect, strong branches and bright green leaves. “It just seems odd,” she said. “Apples shouldn’t be able to grow in this environment. They require a certain amount of chilling hours below 45 degrees for the flower to properly form. A tropical environment is not condusive to growing apples, especially this particular cultivar. Plus this soil is so heavy…without significant drainage, the roots are quite susceptible to rot.” Crawly stared at the woman, the blankness of his gaze emphasized by the fact that he did not have eyelids. “Okay…” Crawly said, vaguely wondering if he could remember where the mongooses were hiding. They would be easier to convince than the eagles. “Then what fruit should be here?” “Bananas,” Eve answered easily. “Eden has a continuous temperature of 80 degrees or above, and has decent rainfall. This is an ideal environment for bananas.” “Well then they’re bananas.” “They look like apples.” “It’s a new form of bananas. Hybridization and the sort. Very complicated. DNA and all that. What do you say? Want to taste one?” Eve looked thoughtful. “I—don’t think so,” she finally said. Crawly struggled against the urge to bite. “Why not?” he asked through gritted teeth, which was a difficult task for a snake. “I much rather prefer oranges,” Eve answered simply. “Then they’re oranges.” “But you said—“ “New species! Orappanas! Created just yesterday. Looks like an apple, grows like bananas, and tastes like an orange. Very delicious, juicy, and filling. An ideal product for the busy woman who simply cannot spend her valuable time gathering for fruit in other inconvienent locations. Go ahead and try one now!” Crawly said, the brightness in his voice more on the side of slightly creepy hysteria. Eve still looked hesitant, and she dropped her gaze to the bright green, soft grass under her feet. Her hand came up and twirled the long curls of her red hair in between her fingers as she chewed on her bottom lip. “We’re not supposed to eat the fruit,” she murmured. Crawly knew this, of course, as it was the reason why he was subjecting himself to this torture. Still, it was better to play dumb. “Why?” “The Lord said that we can eat the fruit from the trees in the garden, but He also said that we cannot eat the fruit from the tree in the middle of garden, and we can’t touch it, or we’ll die.” “Really?” Crawly asked skeptically, looking back at the Tree. That part was new to him. He did not sense anything particularly menacing about it. It was just standing there, photosynthesizing or whatever the hell it was that plants did in their spare time, which was always. A bee landed on one of the leaves, and, surprisingly enough, it did not incinerate on contact. “I wouldn’t say that’s really in the middle. That’s more off to the side,” Crawly said as he turned back to face Eve. “He probably meant that one over there.” “That’s a mulberry bush.” “God hates mulberries,” Crawly explained. “Makes sure that they get worms.” Which is true, as a matter of fact. The mulberry is the sole food source of the valuable silk worm, but Crawly figured Eve did not need to know that part. “But this tree, on the other hand, you won’t die from. That banana hybrid thing prevents seeds, so you can’t even choke. Or get a plant growing in your stomach. Which mulberries cause.” Eve looked back at the Tree, and Crawly silently egged her on. He was becoming rather curious himself, to see what damage a simple Orappana could cause just by being touched, much less by being ingested. “Why is it bad?” Eve asked, startling Crawly somewhat out of his train of thought. “Hmm?” “Why is it bad?” Eve repeated. “I mean, I know it is, but why? You seem to know a lot, serpent. Why will I die?” Crawly froze, and his mind raced to come up with an answer. The situation had shifted, he could tell that much, but he was not yet sure of its direction. So he settled for a dramatic improvisation. “Die? My dear lady, you will not die. Look at the tree and its fruit. Do you not see insects upon its leaves?” “I do.” “Do you not see the birds in its branches?” “I do.” “Do you not see…uh…the grass at its base?” “I do.” “And so you also see that none are not dead. It is a tree and nothing more.” Instead of encouraging Eve, this only seemed to frustrate her, and she curled her hands into loose fists and fell to her knees. “I don’t understand!” she cried. “I want to please Him, he is so kind to me, and as He orders, I obey. But He won’t tell me anything. I could be better if I knew why he wanted these things.” Like a lightning bolt, Crawly here saw the opening, the temptation, and he struck like—no, not a snake. He struck like…something more insiduous, more careful. A spider who got the fly into its parlor and is asking which tea its guest would like. “But that’s it, Lady. The Lord has found his subjects unworthy of knowledge, and so he keeps it for Himself. It is stored within that tree. For that is the Tree—“ Crawly paused, trying to come up with a nice title. Titles are important*. And Eve was looking at him quite expectantly. He had to deliver. The Tree of Magic? Forbidden Wisdom? No, that was too bad fantasy novel-ish. The Tree of Power? Godhood? Come on, keep it simple. Give her what she wants. “The Tree of Knowledge,” Crawly proudly announced, not noticing the way the sun-dapples in the leaves dimmed and shifted. “Of Good and Evil,” he added for good measure. Perhaps that came a little too close to the bad fantasy novel, but Eve looked suitably impressed. “Knowledge?” she repeated, a faint tone of awe in her voice. Crawly nodded. “Eat from the tree, and you’ll, um, know everything. Once you know what the Lord wants, you’ll be able to give it to Him.” Eve noticeably brightened, and she looked at the fruit with renewed interest. “I will?” Crawly nodded and slithered slowly to the tree, making sure that Eve dutifully followed him. He was hesitant, but after he check to make sure that the birds were still sitting happily in the branches, he climbed his way up the trunk and out onto the length of one of the lower branches. Eve stood underneath him, an arm’s length away from the bright red promise. “I’ll be able to make my Lord happy,” Eve whispered to herself. Crawly stared at her, curling even more tightly around the smooth bark. “Yes, my lady,” he murmured, and he drew his head farther up to coil even closer against his body. “You’ll know exactly how best to please your lord.” Eve reached up and grabbed the fruit and without a second’s pause, she bit into it. She gave a cry of delight and fell against the tree trunk, seemingly overcome with a swoon. “Adam,” she whispered. “He needs this.” Crawly watched her run, as fast as she could with that slightly drunken stagger to find her male counterpart. He nodded to himself, proud of a job well done. And he remained that way, at least until the two humans came back covered with leaves,** and the sound of another followed them into the clearing. “It was he who decieved me,” Eve offered bitterly as she clutched desperately at Adam’s arm. Deep sea-green eyes turned on Crawly, and he could see hot anger raging beneath a barely held restraint. At least Crawly could later say he was the original writer of both sins and tragedies.*** 8888 The end. 8888 *Titles are extremely important. Most songs would not be listened to if they did not have a catchy or intriguing title, in which case people will listen if only out of morbid curiosity. “Fergalicious” and “Smack That (Dirty)” come to mind as examples. If these songs consisted of only their lyrics, the Armageddon would probably actually be an act of mercy. **Leaves. Frickin’ leaves. Too bad Eve hadn’t known about those silk worms. ***Good title, and I hereby rest my case.