MOAB

MOAB

by Mark Budman

So He drove out the man; and He placed at the east of the Garden of Eden the cherubim, and the
flaming sword, which turned every way, to keep the way to the tree of life.

MOAB bomb unleashes a devastating fireball that incinerates and vaporizes anything within 30
feet upon detonation.

After the first year, it was quiet. No one came except for a sabertooth, and a few cave bears.
Those were easy: the beasts are afraid of the flames. The son of Seth came, a curious boy; I
drove him off without singeing his eyebrows unlike I did for Cain. The Flood was a major
inconvenience. Hard to keep the flames under the water. A Moabite or two came. I wanted to tell
them I knew all their dirty laundry, and Lot's daughters' tricks, and that 'Moab' means "of her
father." But their hearts melted and they ran. A Persian and a Macedonian shot arrows at me.
The shafts burned nicely in flight. A Saddam's soldier tried to drive a tank. I cut off its tracks.
I whistled. I sang hymns. I composed sonnets. I drew lines in the sand.

Even before I was selected for the job, my patience was legendary among the angels. I switched
hands every decade and blinked once in a blue moon.

Now, I see a bomb the size of a whale falling toward me. Humans. Ever inventive.

'Technologists,' to coin a word. I raise my sword. If I cut off the whale's fins, it will fall like a
dud.