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of them to come down to the servers provided a pretense to avoid bickering over whether any given angel had gained or lost position by ascending or descending to dine. In the middle of the tower was the more skilled labor. Mostly these were craftsmen, along with a few who had talents the angels considered entertaining for one reason or another. At the top lived a smaller group of personal servants, who spent their days tending to an individual angel’s every whim. Most of the servants didn’t recognize these social distinctions among themselves, as they were all treated equally dismissively. But some of the ones who lived at the top had grown to fancy themselves as superior, mimicking the angels’ disdain for those below them.
    Another few levels, and they passed a series of gardens. Plants of all sorts were being cultivated, some of which didn’t look terrestrial in origin. The angels had fallen along with a random selection of materials and supplies, and perhaps some seeds had been among them. They spoke of it as a kind of memorial to someplace they remembered from home. Sometimes they’d walk through it, pensive and lost within their own heads. Other times it seemed to be used mostly for practical purposes, providing whichever fruits and vegetables happened to be the favorites of the angels living in the tower. Jana looked to the side of the ramp, catching a glimpse of a set of servants pruning flowers to sculpt them into a bizarre design she couldn’t recognize.
    As they neared the top, the ramp periodically connected with hallways, lined with living quarters for angels of medium rank. Some of them were just doorways embedded in the outer walls, without any connection to the ramp or to anything else. Likely their occupants valued their privacy, and were happy to make the trade of tending to their own affairs in exchange for keeping their personal spaces totally inaccessible to the help. Jana had heard that there were similar rooms on the outside, which couldn’t even be seen unless you were already in the skies.
    They walked up the ramp for almost an hour before coming to their destination. The ramp ended at the upper levels, leading into a long, dim corridor lined with imposing wooden doors. As they walked along it, Jana’s nerves began to fail. She’d heard stories about some of the things the angels had done, horrible stories. They were always told in a low whisper, and always at night. Each one had the same moral: the only safety lies in absolute deference, no questions asked. It was a peculiar way to be raised, and it had created a peculiar inner turmoil. No matter how much she might chafe at some imperious instruction, something inside her was always screaming to just smile politely and submit.
    “They aren’t going to hurt me, are they?” said Jana. “Please tell me if they’re going to hurt me.” She didn’t have any options, but a cornered animal will try the inconceivable to escape. Dark thoughts flickered through her head. Maybe she could make it back to the ramp and take a final leap. The woman likely wouldn’t be able to stop her, and at least she’d be going out on her own terms. She could deny some angel the glee they’d get from whatever sadistic pleasure they might be up there planning. But then, what happened after? People’s conceptions of the afterlife were in flux. Some of the angels had made it a game to drop hints in front of the servants about what things would be like, but they were often contradictory. Sometimes they claimed the gates of heaven had been closed, never again to reopen. Others they promised salvation, but only for their most effective servants. Ecanus had once spun an elaborate tale involving gods from half a dozen unrelated religions and a giant turtle. Sam suspected this was merely their way of passing the time, and often cautioned the servants against believing too much of what they were told.
    “I don’t know what they’re going to do,” said the woman.