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“It’s a nice garden,” said the angel of the Eastern Gate, looking melancholically down from the wall at the empty, wet lushness of Eden. “They might have been happy here.”
“Yeah, well.” The serpent shrugged, a rippling movement. “Pity your lot kicked them out, then. Don’t blame me.”
“You are technically to blame, you know. Er. No offense meant.”
“I gave them a fruit. Your lot gave them an eviction notice.”
The angel winced. “I told you, it’s ineffable. And I’m not trying to argue with the Plan, of course I’m not.” He paused. “It’s just…” He trailed off.
After a moment, he sighed.
The serpent sighed too, a little, and softened. “Look at this way. It’s a nice garden, sure, but it’s just a garden. Right? They’d probably have gotten bored after a while, anyway.”
“Bored?”
“Don’t you think so?” the serpent added, coaxingly.
“I…” The angel contemplated the question from every angle, searching for any sign of a wile or temptation or other danger in it. Finally, finding none, he cautiously acknowledged, “I suppose they might have gotten bored. A bit. Perhaps.”
“So, there. They have a lot more to explore now.”
“Mostly sand at the moment,” the angel pointed out. “That's not exactly the most interesting thing either.”
“There’s more out there to find, though. Places to discover. They’ll get to the end of the sand eventually.” The serpent considered the quantity of desert stretching eastward, and amended his assertion. “Uh. Probably.”
“Possibly.”
“And,” the serpent persisted, “there’s way more for them to do this way. New stuff to figure out. New things to try.”
“Some of that is supposed to be a punishment, though. Tilling the soil…”
“S’still something to do. So they don’t get bored.”
“I suppose so.”
“Definitely.”
“Maybe.”
“‘Tilling the soil…’” The serpent echoed the angel’s earlier words thoughtfully, now more as if thinking aloud than as if trying to offer reassurance. “Say. D’you think they’ll learn to grow their own gardens? I mean, not like Eden, that’d be a bit much for two people to manage growing by themselves.”
“It most certainly would be.”
“But… little gardens, you know. With plants. Flowers and food and things. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” The angel sighed again, still wistful… but, perhaps, a bit less melancholy now. Perhaps, just a bit more hopeful. “Their own little gardens,” he mused. “That would be nice.”