And God said to Phelan, “You know the rules. Every human baby must include a resurrected soul.”
What else could Phelan do except nod in response; her long, platinum curls bobbing as if confident the problem would be solved. As Angel-In-Charge of reincarnation it was her job. Not to mention, the higher echelons of divinity had too many perks for Phelan to admit that quality control had slipped in recent centuries. So many soulless newborns had snuck through already, and the world was beginning to feel the affects from their lack of empathy, forgiveness and cooperation.
Human births outpaced deaths; that was the issue. And those mortals were resourceful, kept finding ways to increase life expectancy. Phelan’s latest plan to reverse the trend was taking far too long. Earth was not overheating fast enough to solve her problem.
“Perhaps we could promote the whales.” Phelan waited. When no feedback came, she explained further, “Whales are loving, patient and wise. Their souls would help improve the human race.”
“It’s up to you,” God said, dismissing Phelan with a flick of His manicured fingers, returning full attention to the handsome Angel-In-Charge of skincare.
Phelan genuflected and backed away from the golden throne.