Sparks arc, zigzagging up between the conductors. Mr. Henderson thinks he’s demonstrating properties of electricity. In fact, he has opened a door.
I peer closer. But I’m not learning about short circuits. The air crackles with brimstone and I see tiny angels ascending the ladder to heaven. For a moment, the heavenly kingdom becomes visible.
The seraphim, in high voices that only I and dogs can hear, chant “holy, holy, holy.”
Their Lord is angry. They issue my instructions and, with grim determination, I steel myself for the task.