Selfish Beings

‘Talk to your son,’ said Deumos. ‘Learn what humanity has become, how their world has changed. With a new awareness of your prey and its environment, perhaps a solution will become more apparent.’

He decided he could at least give it a try. After Kaarl had proven to be the waste of time Mastema knew he was, he could devote the rest of the week to solving his problem in earnest. If he dismissed Deumos’s solution out of hand he would not hear the end of it. He didn’t need to ask whether or not Kaarl was home; the boy was almost always in his room. Mastema did, however, need directions to get there. He had come to realise early in Kaarl’s formative years that the child was destined to be feeble and useless and had pretty much ignored him since then. Kaarl, for his part, did not mind; the boy liked solitude so a father-son relationship in which neither of them ever talked to each other was mutually beneficial.

Mastema followed Deumos’s directions and found himself outside a door in the bowels of the grey stone mansion. He rarely ventured that deep into his own home; the kitchen, dining room, den and master bedroom were all at the front of the building and he had never felt the need to visit any of his offspring or servants. As he reached the door, Mastema noticed a strange noise emanating from the child’s room. When he opened the door, a wall of sound hit him. Kaarl was at his desk, completely absorbed in a book, and Mastema was instantly reminded why he hated the boy.

All Demons had the ability to shape shift; most chose grotesque or powerful forms, beasts of terror that induced fear and exuded ferocity. Kaarl’s preferred form was what a Mortal would call a very attractive young man. Sandy-blond hair, dark brown eyes and classically handsome features. Mastema was tempted to backhand the child then and there but decided it might not be the best way to start a conversation. Especially not if he wanted something. Kaarl finally noticed the presence of someone else in his room and reached out to touch a glass panel on his desk. The sound instantly stopped.

‘What was that noise?’ asked Mastema.

‘It was Tool, ‘Prison Sex’.’

‘I have heard tools being used and prisoners having sex and that sounded like neither.’

‘It’s a Mortal band, Father. They are called Tool and ‘Prison Sex’ is the name of the song.’

‘Do not call me Father,’ Mastema told him. ‘Sir or Your Supreme Ruthlessness will suffice. If that is what Mortals consider music, times have indeed changed. I’ll admit I like it a lot better than what they listened to in my day. It is much more visceral than the lyre or flute.’

‘Why are you here?’ asked Kaarl.

‘This is my house,’ Mastema snarled. ‘I go where I wish. Who are you to question my reasons, boy?’

‘I didn’t mean any offence. It’s just that in the five hundred years since my birth you have spoken to me twice, hit me on countless occasions and never been to visit me. I was just curious, thought maybe you had the wrong room.’

‘Well, unfortunately for both of us, I don’t,’ said Mastema, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. ‘My wife seems to think you may be able to enlighten me on changes that have occurred in the Mortal world since last I was there.’

‘When was that Father?’

‘I told you not to call me that, and by their definition I believe it was around 325 BC, “the good old days”, as we called them.’

Kaarl’s face lit up with youthful enthusiasm when he realised how much had changed in the period his father wanted to know about.

‘I don’t need to know everything,’ said Mastema when he saw the expression. ‘I just want the main developments, to fill in some gaps in my knowledge.’

‘Perhaps if I knew why you needed to know it could help,’ said Kaarl. ‘There have been so many mortal advancements since that time: automobiles, nuclear weapons, space-travel, medical science; the list is almost endless.’

Mastema gave Kaarl a quick rundown of the situation, leaving out Lucifer’s ultimatum and finishing with Deumos’s suggestion that a fresh perspective might help. Kaarl smiled and pointed to the glass panel on his desk that he had used to stop the music.

‘First thing you will want to know about is that, then.’

‘What is it?’ asked Mastema.

‘The Internet,’ said Kaarl. ‘It is a store of almost all of humanity’s knowledge, a way for them to communicate with each other, trade, share information and much more. In fact, on an almost daily basis they are finding new ways to use it.’

‘How did you get it?’

‘One of the Damned I managed to talk to without my brothers interfering was an engineer of sorts. He constructed this terminal for me and a device to be placed in the Mortal realm that would help me to connect. When Vetis last went up I gave her the device and instructions from the engineer. I’ve been online ever since.’

‘Why would he do that for you?’ asked Mastema. Although Perdition was not quite the place humans imagined, it was still rare for one to help another without forceful coercion or something to gain in return.

‘Boredom, I guess,’ said Kaarl. ‘There is only so much drunkenness and debauchery one can partake in before they get restless. I think he wanted a bit of a challenge and allowing data to travel between realms was a major one.’

‘Why would Vetis help you?’

This was more confusing to Mastema than the engineer’s contribution. Vetis was one of the most desirable young demonettes in Hell. She was beautiful, self-centred and uncompromising: all fine traits in a young woman. Many of Kaarl’s brothers had tried to bed her or her twin sister Verin with no success. The girls were strange in their own way but they had a certain charm and mystique beyond the obvious physical. The fact that Kaarl was even on speaking terms with either of them was unfathomable.

‘She is a friend,’ replied Kaarl. ‘She also has a keen interest in the Mortals, particularly their menfolk, so she jumped at the chance to be able to access the Internet from Perdition.’

It was unbelievable that Mastema’s other sons, even Davaal, who was by all measures one of the most eligible bachelors in Perdition, could barely get two words from Vetis or her sister and yet Kaarl was her friend. Mastema decided not to attempt to understand the strange motivations of the younger generation and instead focus on the task at hand.

With no more questions forthcoming, Kaarl began showing Mastema the wonders of the Internet. His father asked to see its most vile and corruptive elements first and Mastema was not disappointed. After only half an hour, Mastema stopped him and stared at the screen. Of all the things one could do with a hedgehog, a garden hose, a bottle of milk and a willing woman, he would never in a million years have come up with a situation like the one he was watching.

‘How much more of this is there?’

‘I would say it’s infinite; more is being added all the time and we haven’t even scratched the surface yet.’

‘And you say Mortals let their children use this?’

‘Yes, they do have ways to stop them looking at such material, though not all of them know how to do so, or care. Some children are so far advanced in its use that even those safeguards amount to nothing.’

Mastema shook his head in wonder.

‘This Internet has almost been doing our job for us; if it hadn’t been invented we’d have had that meeting two decades ago. Show me more.’

Kaarl moved from vulgar pornography to social media. Mastema read in wonder as people bared their souls for the world to see, or made tributes to lost loved ones, only to have others who did not even know them or the departed leave spiteful, hurtful comments. Mastema was truly in awe of some of the despicable things written for the world to see.

‘All of this random hate and malice; some of these people are so close to becoming ours, they don’t even realise it. What does that mean?’ he asked, pointing to a line on the screen of a memorial page.

‘This “lolurmu -’

‘It means “laugh out loud, your mother is dead” ‘

‘Delightful’

‘It is a commonly held belief that what humans say in the relative anonymity of the Internet is mostly at odds with how they act in real life Father.’

Mastema was so pleased with what he had learnt he did not reprimand Kaarl for his familiarity. ‘That is not important, Kaarl; this lack of compassion is under the surface. It seems a good proportion of them are thinking it. All that is needed is to bring this to the surface, make them act like they speak and Perdition is back in business, well and truly.’

Deumos came in with their dinner hours later as Mastema had forgotten all about eating. As Kaarl had continued his crash course in human development using the Internet, he had been absorbed in the possibilities the new world of man presented for gathering souls. His wife gave him an all-knowing smile and left father and son to their work.

As the night progressed, talk turned to other facets of modern-day life and Mastema found a measure of respect for his son. The child was weak and feeble, but he was cunning and knowledgeable and that made up for it a little. Kaarl’s insight into the workings of the contemporary Mortal was remarkable and his understanding of their ways was extensive. Mastema decided that Kaarl and his information would be integral to “his” plan and proceeded to fill the child in on the rest of Abaddon’s announcement. Sans Lucifer’s judgement in person and the familicide that would follow if everyone failed. He was sure the boy wouldn’t respond well to pressure.

‘You mean you’d get to go to the Mortal realm?’ Kaarl asked, unable to mask his excitement and envy at such a prospect.

‘Not necessarily. Abaddon said the best demon for the job, and I doubt if myself or any other Demon Lord could match your knowledge of the Earth as it is today.’

Kaarl’s jaw dropped as the reality of what his father was saying dawned on him. ‘You think they would let me go?’ he asked.

‘If the plan is sound I’m sure I can convince the Board that you are the only logical choice.’

Mastema had seen enough over the evening to be sure his studious son was up to the task of assembling the basis of the proposal. He told him how to set out his ideas and the format that would be required. A little more time spent with Kaarl now meant less editing when he came to put his own name on the work. Mastema knew the boy wanted to visit Earth desperately, and would break his own back to do so. He was more than willing to be the patsy who went up to enact the plan, and that provided a safety net for Mastema. If anything went wrong the boy could take most of the blame.

Mastema found it slightly odd that the cerebral challenge of the task and the chance to go to Earth was more of a motivation to Kaarl than helping to deprive the Hated One of souls. He would have assumed that with the boy’s lack of social status he would be champing at the bit for some acceptance. Any normal Demon would be focusing on reaping the Damned and denying them entry to Heaven rather than seeing it as merely the by-product of solving a problem and the chance to play tourist. Whilst strange, it was not really important, and his son was far from normal. The end result would be the same and that was all that mattered. Confident that his son’s fervour and intelligence would be more than enough to get the task done, Mastema headed back to his own bedroom, contemplating a week of golf whilst the other Lords worked themselves into a stupor.

Chapter Three: Meeting the Master

The visit had left Kaarl with a lot of work to do and the faint tang of irony in his mouth. After the initial enthusiasm of discussing his favourite topic had faded he realised how ridiculous the situation was. The very interests that had relegated him to a status just below something his father had scraped off his hand-made shoes were suddenly in hot demand. It had been the opportunity to fulfil a lifelong dream that had swayed him to take up the challenge instead of telling his father to shove it.

That fact in itself was troubling; it was exactly the sort of ploy his father, a master manipulator, would use to secure his help. It was possible that Mastema would take the position on Earth, along with all the credit, and laugh in his face. A slim chance was still better than none, though, and Kaarl knew how to increase his odds.

It was obvious the Lords knew squat about the modern world: the colossal jerk that was his father had already said as much. It was a shortcoming Kaarl could use. As long as the Lords grasped its potential and little else beyond the basics, the trip was as good as his. Kaarl cracked his knuckles and went to work.

As Mastema had predicted, Kaarl’s proposal was inspired and the parts he understood needed very little editing. During the week he had stopped in a few times to check on progress; not to micro-manage but to ensure he wouldn’t be left empty-handed come presentation time. On the whole, the thing had looked rather impressive. Whilst his faith in his apparently not entirely useless son’s ability was firm, one did not rise to the exalted ranks of the Board based on assumptions that everything was in order.

The fact that he and his fellow Lords had done exactly that after achieving their positions was the reason he was in such a dire situation to begin with. Mastema was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He would not make the same mistake twice if it could be avoided. He spent the morning before the meeting revising Kaarl’s work and for the most part was delighted with the final result.

The only part of the plan Mastema did not like was that it required Verin and Vetis, the twin sisters of Impatience and Corruption, to accompany Kaarl. It made sense in some ways; they had been to Earth before and could help Kaarl adapt to the Mortal realm. Their skills in manipulating Mortals would also prove invaluable. The main problem Mastema saw was the cost; Kaarl’s plan asked for three times the outlay that Abaddon had promised.

For Perdition to send a single Demon to Earth, a sacrifice of one hundred thousand souls was required. Whilst in the grand scheme of souls already claimed by Hell it was a relatively small number, anything that increased the deficit in favour of the Hated One was considered very costly indeed. Asking for three hundred thousand to be struck from the tally was audacious, to say the least. Kaarl convinced his father that for the plan to work it was necessary and Mastema could only hope it seemed a worthwhile investment to Lucifer.

He ordered Kaarl to join him at the meeting; he would be lost if any technical queries came up. If the need for the sisters to be sent was questioned, the boy could handle that as well. Mastema didn’t want to be begging for extra resources at a meeting where his life hinged on the outcome.

As Mastema entered the meeting room, Kaarl in tow, his eyes were drawn to the throne at the head of the table. It sat empty, but even so the sheer power of Lucifer, Light Bearer and Son of the Morning, surrounded it. Carved from the purest white marble and inlaid with golden depictions of his heroic deeds, it was a stark reminder of the importance of the meeting. Samael, poster child of the fuzzy underpants movement, saw Kaarl and laughed.

‘I didn’t know it was “bring your daughter to work day”, Mastema,’ he said.

The more sycophantic of the Lords joined in with him and Mastema strode up to the behemoth, oblivious to their mirth.

‘Ah, Samael, if only your intellect were as sharp as your wit. I see your proposal is a mere two pages.’

Samael glanced down at Mastema’s much thicker and rather more academic-looking document.

‘It also seems that the first one is a covering sheet. I’m going to hazard a guess that the second has “Kill everything” misspelled horribly in large letters and a crude crayon drawing of you decapitating mortals. Laugh all you want for now, oaf; we will see who is smiling after this meeting.’

Before the Lord of Death and Destruction could say anything in return, Mastema walked to a seat on the opposite side of the table, again thankful for the sanctuary the Boardroom provided from Samael’s wrath. Kaarl stood a respectful distance behind his father.

Within minutes the Lords were all seated and Abaddon had joined them, sitting to the left of Lucifer’s throne. A lanky, light red minion collected the proposals and stood beside Abaddon, waiting. The air grew thick and heavy as darkness began to seep from the throne. It started to form a vaguely humanoid shape before it wavered and exploded outwards. For a split second the room turned black and the laughter of a million children filled the air. Kaarl went rigid as the noise died. Lucifer, in all his unholy glory, had taken his place on his throne. The sound of Lucifer’s coming had always unnerved Mastema. He often wondered why it couldn’t be tortured screams instead of what sounded like an endless crowd of happy fat children in a vast cavern.

Lucifer, as always, appeared as an immense and heavily muscled man with skin of white gold. His pure violet eyes, Romanesque features and perfect white smile did nothing to detract from the aura of fear and power that surrounded him. His black wings flared outwards as he sat down upon his throne and surveyed the assembled Lords. After an uncomfortable moment of silence, he held out his massive hand. Abaddon took the pile of documents from the attendant and handed them to the Light Bearer. For the next hour the entire room remained silent. The assembled Lords’ breathing slowed to the minimum required for survival. No one wanted to draw undue attention from Lucifer at such a meeting.

As soon as Lucifer had read the last report’s final page he turned to Abaddon and imparted his will. He did not speak, as to hear the voice of Lucifer was an honour and the Board’s abysmal performance deserved no such privilege. He instead pierced Abaddon’s mind, planted his orders in it and disappeared. Mastema cringed again at the sound. The Board waited anxiously as Abaddon processed Lucifer’s message. There was a very real chance that it would be their, and indeed their bloodline’s, last moments of existence. The Chairman’s lack of emotional range and facial expression did nothing to alleviate this fear.

‘We do not die today,’ he said finally and the Board heaved a collective sigh of relief. ‘It was a close thing indeed, but Mastema has saved us all from Lucifer’s merciless yet totally justifiable vengeance.’

A round of applause came from the Board and beneath his icy demeanour Mastema rejoiced. He was in Lucifer’s favour. He could walk up to Samael and punch him in the face, slap Abaddon’s mother and kick Buer’s dog and still be untouchable. Mastema would do no such thing, of course, but to have the option without fear of reprisal was just as good in his eyes.

‘The Light Bearer and Son of the Morning would like you and your son to attend him immediately, Mastema,’ Abaddon said before he turned to address the other Lords. ‘As for the rest of Lucifer’s orders; firstly, could someone please find Samael a dictionary? Kill has two Ls and his illiteracy reflects badly on all of us. On a more positive note; your work with crayons is coming along nicely.’

Mastema pointed at the Lord of Death and Destruction and laughed before leading his son from the room.

Kaarl was still in shock as he and his father ascended to Lucifer’s private chambers. ‘The Light Bearer wants to see me as well?’ he asked Mastema as they flew up from the tower.

‘Do you think I would’ve used your plan and then taken the glory of entering the Mortal realm all for myself, despite my promise?’ Mastema replied.

‘Well, yes, actually.’

‘Then you do not know much about me at all.’

For instance, thought Mastema, you don’t know I view that place as torture and would happily send you, your mother and all your siblings there before I ever set foot in that cesspit of a realm again.

The rest of the journey was conducted in silence; the boy had served his purpose and, despite doing so admirably, Mastema had little desire to foster a relationship with him. Kaarl, for his part, was enjoying the view as they rose higher, too much so to bother speaking. He had spent so much time in self-imposed seclusion that the majesty and vastness of Perdition was often lost on him. Father and son finally floated to a halt in front of immense golden doors which swung open to allow entrance to a place very few Demons would ever have the privilege of visiting.

Kaarl could barely comprehend what he was seeing. The majority of Lucifer’s chamber was a lush tropical rainforest; golden sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters were just visible in the distance. Unseen from their viewpoint, beyond the ocean, walls of what was best described as crystal kept the noise of Perdition at bay and provided the chamber with a panoramic view of the Light Bearer’s domain. As soon as Mastema and Kaarl had crossed the threshold the doors closed and Lucifer himself appeared before them, without the accompanying theatrics, Mastema noticed gratefully. Kaarl was surprised when Lucifer first spoke. The Light Bearer’s voice was soft, almost a honeyed whisper, which was unnerving coming from a being of such tremendous size and obvious power.

‘Mastema, Tempter of Men and Cursed Accuser, I thank you for bringing your son to me; you may go now.’

Mastema obeyed immediately but the confused look on his face as he turned to leave was not lost on Lucifer.

‘I know your reasons for the plan I received and Kaarl’s involvement in it, but fear not,’ he told Mastema. ‘You can still brandish your achievement over your fellow Board members as it was you who brought it before me and your offspring that devised it. You must agree, though, it is pointless for you to remain here. You did nothing more than proof-read it.’

‘Of course, Master. I am honoured to help our cause in any way I can,’ replied Mastema.

‘The fact that this was all the fruit of your laziness and unwillingness to go to Earth yourself is irrelevant. As always, I care only about the ends; the means matter not. Your self-serving nature has once again proven useful. Leave us and enjoy the accolades and envy of your peers.’

‘I most certainly will, Master,’ Mastema said as he left the chamber, ‘especially the envy.’

As the great golden doors closed behind him, Kaarl was again in awe of his situation. Only five hundred years old, barely into what would be considered his early twenties in human terms, and he was in the presence of Lucifer himself. As the Light Bearer appraised him with piercing purple eyes, Kaarl stared at Lucifer’s feet. After a short and uncomfortable silence the Master of Perdition spoke.

‘It was refreshing to get a younger Demon’s assessment of the situation and how to change it,’ he said. ‘The Board is so entrenched in the old world and its ways I was certain I would be destroying them today. They have become exactly what the Mortals view all of us as. Pointless evil, malice and wanton destruction may have their uses but, as always, those times and places are few and far between. The world is changing and Perdition needs to change with it. You represent that change, child.’

Bolstered by Lucifer’s compliments, Kaarl found the nerve to look the Light Bearer in the eye.

‘I did not understand many of the terms and ideas in your plan,’ Lucifer continued. ‘Much like your father and the rest of the Board, I regrettably am too far detached from the modern Mortal to comprehend most of it. What I do understand is your method and I must say I am impressed.’

‘Thank you, Master,’ Kaarl said, remembering the title his father had used in Lucifer’s presence.

‘Temptation and doubts to erode the defences of the less corruptible. Dreams and desires for the masses, if only they are willing to step a little out of light to reach for it. A slow pervasion instead of brute force and blatant attempts at encouraging vice and sin. You have even included the children,’ Lucifer said with a smile. ‘Fun for the whole family. It reminds me a lot of my earlier work. None of the abrupt descents into damnation favoured by those fools on the Board, rather a smooth slide down; like taking a warm bath and then drowning in it.’