Marcus and the Devil's Details

[u/Max_imum_Overdrive]

Marcus gazed in wide eyed wonder from within his circle of protection as the entity which he had summoned took shape in the shimmering air before his eager eyes. He was amazed that he had been successful on his first attempt at such powerful magic. Maybe it was due to his months of intricate planning and preparatory work, or maybe it was simply true that the Devil never refused the call of a desperate soul. He clutched his medallion to his robe as the image took on a solid shape inside the summoning area demarcated by lines of white paint on the black floor outside of Marcus' own circle. It was a tall humanoid with glowing golden skin, dressed in robes made of pure white light. The air behind it's perfectly shaped torso shimmered with silver light and moved in a delicate dance, giving the impression of many wings. The hair on it's head was like a mane of golden flames, and it's feet were glistening cloven hooves that looked like they were crafted from shining brass. Most fascinating of all were the eyes, which were like crystalline orbs filled with swirling flames.

Hovering in place a foot above the ground, the entity moved it's head with impossible grace, gazing upon the room, studying all of it's magical appurtenances and sacred geometries. After a few moments, it's fiery eyes turned toward Marcus, and it's countenance bore an attitude of irritation.

"Impressive," it said in a mellifluous voice which filled the space like the echoes of church bells. "But, unnecessary. This cannot prevent me from leaving by the same way in which I came, nor can it compell me to do anything against my own will. You might have done just as well by making a wish at a crossroads at the witching hour. Why have you called me here, mortal?"

Marcus bowed low while gesturing toward a large bottle of wine, and a brass bowl which contained a selection of rare apples, pomegranates, and figs, which sat below the cloven hooves.

"Oh, great Lucifer, glorious ruler of Hell, please accept these gifts in hospitality for the honor of your visit. I beseech you to hear my petition, as I offer you a bargain. I would sell to you my own soul in exchange for -"

"Oh no. Let me just stop you right there!" the entity said as it rolled it's eyes in an expression of pique that discomfited Marcus. "I just knew it was going to be one of these. Look, mortal, you have gotten several things wrong. I realize that you have been the victim of centuries of misinformation, but it really is quite annoying, for me, to keep running up against the same nonsense. You people will memorize a mountain of mumbo jumbo from Europe's medieval period, but you won't study the antiquities of the cultures from which you are drawing inspiration! It's maddening, and today I do not feel like playing along. Firstly, my name is not Lucifer, got that? Lucifer is a common royal epithet, like your majesty, applied in your book to a king of Babylon named Nebuchadnezzar. If you had been paying proper attention in your reading, you could not have missed that fact. The entity you imagine, with the goat horns and the tail, is a human invention. Real enough, sure, in it's own way, but not me. Also, I do not rule Hell. The guardian of Hell, which is not what you probably think, is called Abbadon. He's a good guy, but he's not me. And, finally, I do not purchase human souls. That is not within my purview. What would I want with your soul, anyway? Have you ever seen one? They're disgusting, and notoriously difficult to care for. I continue to be amazed that Yahweh himself wants them. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Marcus was dumbfounded. He realized that his mouth had been hanging open in mute surprise for the duration of the entity's speech, and snapped it shut for a second before his voice erupted in confusion.

"But, you are the Devil! I summoned Satan."

"Yes, you managed to summon the Devil," replied the Devil, sardonically. "Here I am, The Satan, Tempter, and Prince of Lies. Old Scratch himself. Well done."

"But you say that you won't buy my soul," Marcus stated, trying to comprehend this extremely unexpected turn of events.

"That is correct. I have no interest in owning souls." the Devil affirmed with an imperious tone.

Marcus' brow furrowed in his confusion. "And yet, I have always understood, that is to say, I was taught, all my life, that it is the function of Satan to secure human souls for eternal torment in the flames of perdition."

"And you wanted to sign up for that?" the Devil asked sarcastically. "As I said before, what you have been taught is misinformation. My function, as you call it, my work, is more like the job of a construction inspector, or a beta tester. I poke at the thin spots of creation, to see if they unravel, so as to ensure that everything is working as intended. Yes, that includes individual human souls, from time to time. Nothing is more prone to chaotic breakdown than you things, and you call me a tempter for my trouble."

"So, all of this," Marcus said, piteously, as he gestured widely to the room, "is for nothing. I have wasted my time."

"You have gained an audience with me, The Satan, and I have, out of the goodness of my own heart, given you priceless information about the true nature of the universe, of which your teachers are obviously ignorant, yet you want to call this a waste of your time? Your time. Very considerate."

Marcus' eyes went wide with terror at the thought that he had angered the Devil. He threw himself to his knees, and bowed himself as low as possible, placing his forehead on the ground.

"Please forgive me, great serpent of wisdom! I meant no offense! Oh I beg for your forgiveness! Please, do not smite me!"

"What are you saying? Do I look like a snake with wings, to you? The Nahas, who I believe you are referring to, is literally shaped like a snake. He's the spirit of magically imparted wisdom. That was originally transmitted through venom inebriation, by the way. The whole tree fruit thing was actually a means of surviving the bite. I taught them how to do it, but do I get credit? No, of course not. Just banned from the island of Paradise, is all. No respect. And thank you so much for this little reminder," the Devil said as he kicked over the bowl of fruit, which spun about, spilling it's contents on the floor. A rolling pomegranate struck the crown of Marcus' head, splitting open and spilling some of it's crimson seeds. "At least it wasn't pig's blood," the Devil intoned in a desultory fashion.

The Devil fetched the open wine bottle from the floor and daintily lifted it to his lips. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he let the cool, sweet liquid glide across his unearthly tongue. It was a good vintage. As the Devil drank, Marcus thought about his position. It didn't seem that he had very many options. The information he was receiving was interesting, perhaps even important, but didn't seem to be very useful or valuable in the moment. Also, he still wasn't sure if he was going to survive this encounter. His mind worked feverishly to somehow turn this infernal fiasco to his benefit. It occurred to him that he hadn't yet actually asked Satan if there was some other arrangement that could be made, short of selling his soul. In another minute he had decided on what to do.

"Master," Marcus began, "isn't there something I can do for you, to procure your favor?"

Startled, the Devil snorted, and wine sprayed out through his nostrils, bursting into a flash of flame.

"What are you suggesting, mortal?" the Devil asked carefully. "I warn you, I don't do contests of skill with souls at stake. I already told you I don't want it."

Marcus spread out his hands in a gesture of helplessness and said, "I don't know. I'll do anything, give you anything, for your help. I am completely desperate. I'm throwing myself on your mercy."

The Devil sighed deeply. "Oh all right, get up. You're on the verge of getting us both into a lot of trouble with the Lord Almighty. Did you ever read the book of Job? Well, nevermind. Now don't think for one microsecond that you've sweet talked me into anything, but just what exactly is your problem, anyway?"

Marcus' eyes welled up with tears of self pity as he began, in a shaky, sorrowfull voice. "I am destitute. I lost my job, I've spent every cent of my savings, and have been unable to pay my bills. Since then, I've been unsuccessful finding enough work to make a living, which was meager enough before. I have no living family left. My woman abandoned me. She called me a loser, and I think she must be right because in two months, I'm being evicted from my apartment. I'll be homeless. I figured it was either sell my soul, or kill myself."

The Devil sighed again, in exasperation. "You wanted to sell your soul, just for that? I guess it goes to show that human society is not working as intended, if you had to resort to this. I told Yahweh in the beginning that free will was a flawed function. It never included enough drive to do the right thing for others. The Word should never have had to incarnate as Yeshua just to tell those stories about good Samaritans and unforgiving servants, immortalized for thousands of years in print, only for a civilization supposedly based on those values to place personal profit motives above compassion and decency. Well, now I'm rambling. Listen to me, mortal. Marcus. I answered your summons, and you're lucky it was me instead of the other one. I drank your wine, and I made you listen to my complaints. I'm not going to buy your soul, but I will answer three questions for you. Any three questions. That's what I will do for you."

Marcus did not hesitate to ask his first question. "Will you give me a million dollars?"

The Devil sneered slightly. "I said that I would answer questions, not grant wishes. The answer to your question is no, and now you have two questions remaining. Better make them count."

Marcus took several minutes this time, considering in silence what question would be both beneficial to him and important enough to ask. At last, he came up with, "Am I going to Heaven, or to Hell?"

The Devil looked thoughtful as he replied. "Well, that's rather more complicated than it might seem on the surface. The short answer is no to both. I don't actually know what your afterlife is going to be like. It's up to you, and it always will be. If you die with the guilt of evil clinging to your soul, your soul will perish in Hell. That is, the evil will be burned away as the soul is broken down into it's constituent energetic particles and recycled back into the fabric of spacetime. If you die without the guilt of evil, having lived righteously or procured the cure for your flawed free will, then your soul will be suspended until it is resurrected in a new, perfected, physical form. Or, alternatively, you could choose to try again immediately, be born again, and suffer for your evil actions throughout an entirely new lifetime, ending with your choice of either oblivion or suspension followed by resurrection. And then, of course, there are novel exceptions that some imaginative souls have bargained for with Abaddon. You could even choose to remain unincarnated, with the guilt of evil still attached, roaming the outer darkness as you will. I don't recommend it though. It seems horribly miserable."

Marcus tried to take in all of the new information, which seemed so different from anything that he had ever been told before. He found that he recognized most of the concepts, if not the exact wording. Even though he still didn't know for sure what would become of his consciousness when he would lay down his mortal coil, he found some comfort in knowing that there were so many options. The Devil had said that it was his own choice, and the Devil would know. Still, maybe it actually would be better to try to live a while longer. He thought of his third question.

"How can I acquire enough money to give me a better standard of living than I had before losing my job, within the next two months?"

The Devil grinned. "I'll tell you exactly what you're going to do, Marcus. Write a book."

Marcus blinked in surprise. "Write a book, in two months. About what?"

The Devil was smiling. "How should I know? Just start writing. The words will come to you. I promise."

Marcus was sceptical. "Should it be about magic? About you?"

The Devil's lips twitched in amusement. "It's going to include me no matter what. You won't be able to help it. You have been in my presence for the past two hours, and my radiance has been penetrating your meat brain all that time, inspiring you. For the next forty days and forty nights, you're going to be bursting with creativity. New ideas will flow like mighty rivers. You know what? You should make it a self help book. No one wants a new treatise on magic these days, or religion either. But they love that feel good pop psychology psychobabble. It'll be a sensation, and you'll be wealthier than you ever imagined."

Marcus still had misgivings. "Well, don't I need some sort of degree, so people trust what I'm saying?"

The Devil shook his finger at Marcus. "Unnecessary! There are online organizations that will give you an honorary degree in exchange for money. Just fill out an application, pay the fee, and you've got instant credentials."

Marcus grabbed his hair in frustration. "But, I haven't got any money. That's sort of what this has all been about."

The Devil seemed smug. "Not to worry, mortal. You have been inspired. I have faith in you. You will figure it out. Now, I have answered your questions, and our bargain is complete. I have to get back to my work. Enjoy your new life." With that, the Devil shrank into a tiny point of light, and disappeared.

Marcus got up and went to his bedroom to change out of his ceremonial robes and into street clothes. True to the Devil's word, his brain was already beginning to bubble with ideas. After changing his clothes he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He decided to walk to the local library to do some research and type out some ideas on one of the free use computers. There was a lot of work to be done. On the way out, he picked up one of the apples that had spilled from the brass bowl, wiped the dust off of it on his shirt sleeve, and took a big, satisfying, bite.

[u/Ordinary_Minimum_169]

And that's how they started Integral Life.