|
|
The deliveryman towering over Max was over six feet tall and had a brawny build, ruddy skin, and copious amounts of coarse hair covering his face. In his ridiculously large hands he clutched a proportionately tiny package and a clipboard. "Yes?" Max stifled a yawn and instinctively swung the door closed halfway, bracing it with his left foot. "Package," the man boomed. Hot breath poured over Max and jolted him into wakefulness. "Isn't it a little early for deliveries?" He was also fairly certain that it was Sunday. Max rubbed the grittiness from his eyes. The sun was just beginning to peek out from the treetops, chasing away the gray of early dawn. The mountain shrugged, his massive muscles straining the fabric of his ill-fitting uniform. "You're telling me," the man said. "Too bad I don't get to choose my hours." He thrust the package forward. Max hesitantly took the package. It was heavier than it looked, wrapped in plain brown paper with no markings, not even an address. The flaps appeared to have been sealed with green wax, of all things. Max didn't need a stamp on it saying "Suspicious Package" to know he should refuse delivery. "You know, I'm not really expecting anything. I can't accept this." He shoved it back out at the deliveryman. The man seemed to loom even taller for a moment, his face darkening, but then he glanced nervously behind him. The street was filling with sunlight, and all along the block sprinklers began spurting water onto lawns. "Are you sure you didn't order something?" The man winked but Max attributed it to a facial tic. "Think about it," he growled. Max considered for a moment. His birthday was next week; it was possible this was just an early present from his mom. She was very fond of surprises. He was probably just being paranoid. "Let me at least see who sent it," he suggested grudgingly, taking the clipboard. "Sure. Just sign at the bottom." Max skimmed the sheet, but without his reading glasses his vision blurred over the tiny crowded text. He grasped the pen and poised it over the bright red X at the bottom. "What happened to the electronic clipboards you guys usually have?" "Cutbacks," the man grunted. Max tapped the pen against the clipboard as he decided what to do. "I really don’t think I can sign for this. Sorry." He looked up apologetically as he tried to slip the pen back in its side holster. His thumb grazed the edge of the paper, which cut through his skin like a razor. He felt a sharp pain and dropped the clipboard. "Ouch!" He knelt and picked up the clipboard, leaving a bloody thumbprint on the bottom of the page as he handed it to the deliveryman. "I'm afraid I bled all over this." "Don't worry." The man smiled, looking the sheet over. "That's just perfect." He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at the blood welling from Max's thumb. "You should put a bandage on that. Good day." Max nodded, inserting the thumb in his mouth and sucking on it gingerly. As the man turned away and advanced down the walkway, Max realized he still held the package in his hand. "Hey wait! You forgot this." "It's yours, you signed for it. If you don't want it, someone will be by to collect later."
Max sat at his kitchen table with the morning news blaring from the small television on the counter. A plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of orange juice were pushed to the side, uneaten and forgotten, to make room for the contents of the package. He carefully cracked the wax on the paper wrapping then peeled away the flaps so he could slide out the rectangular carton within. Then he slowly opened the cardboard box, half-expecting an explosion or toxins or sharp needles to spring out at any moment. Fortunately, nothing of the kind happened, and finally the item inside lay exposed. It was a DVD. With a sigh of relief, Max slipped off his rubber gloves and inspected the case. There was no slip sleeve or label, just a plain black plastic case still shrink-wrapped in its original factory packaging, from wherever it had come. He jiggled it experimentally, like a child testing a Christmas present. He heard a disc rattling hollowly inside. Well, he had come this far. He used a butter knife to slit open the plastic wrapping, then tried to open the case but met with resistance. Examining the plastic, he noticed a sticker sealing the upper portion of the case, with the words "Security Device Enclosed" printed on it. Momentarily thwarted, Max stared at the case with a mixture of curiosity and anger. He looked about for a tool to aid him in removing the troublesome security sticker, but ultimately decided to make a go at it the old-fashioned way. He picked up the case again and picked at the edge of the sticker with his thumbnail. The corner of it was labeled "Pull," but he just couldn't see how he could, and he had little purchase on the tiny strip of plastic. All he succeeded in doing was placing a series of tiny dents and tears along the top of the disc case. Suddenly Max dropped the case. Had he imagined it, or had the label suddenly changed? For a moment, he could have sworn that the label read "Secure Demon Enclosed." That was absurd, he decided, as he peered at the label cautiously. No, it still read, "Security Device Enclosed," as it should. He also noticed some drops of blood spotting it; the paper cut on his thumb had reopened and it was bleeding freely again. He staunched the wound with a napkin then pried at the label once more. To his surprise, it peeled off quite easily this time. With a small cry of victory, he snapped the case open. Nestled inside, held in place by tiny claws in the center of the case, was a black DVD with strange runes along the outer edge and a blood red pentagram inscribed in its center. Max drew in a deep breath, placing the case down gently and staring at his prize. No light reflected from the obsidian surface of the disc, and when he pressed his fingers to it he could feel warmth emanating from it. This was no ordinary DVD. Well then, what the hell was it? Who had sent it to him? And most importantly, what should he do with it?
He tried to put the DVD out of his mind for most of the day, but he was unable to concentrate on anything else. He found himself wandering the house aimlessly, tending to imaginary chores he had to complete, yet always ending up in the kitchen staring at the DVD on the table. The longer he thought about it, the more he thought he was probably just being silly. Once he had played it, found it to be harmless, and gotten it out of his system, he would be able to move on with his life. As it was, the DVD was threatening to become something of an obsession. That was how Max reasoned as he found himself in his living room, standing in front of his television, with the tray of his DVD player primed and ready for the mysterious new disc. Max pried the DVD out of its case, again noticing how unnaturally heavy it was. He placed the disc on the tray and watched with growing anticipation as the machine ingested it. He switched on the television and perched on the edge of the couch. Clinging to his remote control, he waited as the disc began to play. He felt a strange sense of excitement. At first, only static played across the screen. Gradually the image began to clear up, and he could discern the faint movement of what looked like a person. The static flared for a moment and the image sprang to life in the most glorious resolution imaginable. The picture quality was just beautiful. The woman he was looking at was beautiful too, from what he could see of her. She stood in a bedroom, slowly undressing. She had a stunning figure, and wavy brown hair reached to her waist. A shower ran in the adjoining bathroom, steam wafting through the open door. Had someone sent Max a pornographic video as some kind of prank? He was mildly disgusted, even as he was barely able to tear his eyes from the screen. He picked up the DVD case. When he glanced at it he was astonished. Where it had been blank before, there was now a full-color sleeve advertising the video he was watching. "Wish Fulfillment 1: Bedroom Voyeur (Free Trial Offer)," blazed across a still photo of the scene he was watching. He glanced back at the television, where the movements of the woman mesmerized him once more as she slipped out of her blouse and began unfastening her skirt. The picture was so crisp it had a nearly three-dimensional effect to it; Max imagined the woman was right there in the room with him as her skirt fell and she stepped out of it. He wished he could see the woman's face; if it was anything like the rest of her she must be rapturous indeed. Turn around, he urged silently. Here, Max received two additional shocks to his already badly damaged sense of reality. First of all, almost as soon as he thought it, the woman turned around, as though responding to his wishes. She lifted her hair, twisting it above her head and fastening it loosely with a pin. The second shock was that Max recognized the woman immediately. Her name was Kara Summers. She was a fellow teacher at Max's public school. He passed her in the halls every day on his way to math class, stared at her in the faculty lounge, mooned over her in meetings, and dreamed of her at night. She was his Ideal Woman. The school board frowned on inter-faculty relationships, so Max had never asked her out; at least, that was the excuse he used for his lack of confidence. She probably already had a boyfriend anyway. And if she didn't, why would she ever want to go out with him? "Why indeed?" a voice rasped from behind him. Max leaped out of his chair and whirled around. There was no one behind him, of course. The sound had come from the speakers. He had been spooked by surround sound effects before, but he also had felt a breath on his neck at the same time--hadn't he? "Now that I have your attention," the smooth voice continued, seemingly from all around him. "Please do sit and enjoy the rest of the show. We're only just getting to the good bit." Max warily returned to his seat, his eyes darting nervously around the room as it seemed to darken. Now he knew what people meant by the voice of God. A chuckle, which sounded like a combination of hissing and wheezing, issued from the speakers. "Not quite God, not quite, but close enough perhaps. Now watch..." He turned back to the television, wondering how the audio had seemed to anticipate what he was thinking. He didn't have time to ponder the matter. Kara, or a truly remarkable look-alike, was reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra. Max held his breath and leaned forward in his seat waiting for the underwear to drop away. She slipped out of the bra, and Max uttered a hoarse whisper of frustration. Her breasts were completely obscured by a scrambled mosaic of pixels. She dropped the bra on the bed, leaned over and slid her panties down her shapely legs, favoring Max with a view of another array of pixels blocking her nether region. She turned and walked into the bathroom, closing the door as the image faded to black. Max sighed. "We hope you have enjoyed our little demonstration. If anything detracted from your enjoyment of this presentation, please notify your familiar upon conclusion of our contract." At that, a tall wiry man appeared on the screen, outfitted in a black robe that enveloped his small frame in long drapes of fabric. The man bowed to Max then seemed to step out of the screen, accompanied by a thin reddish mist that spilled into the room. "Who are you?" Max choked out. "How did you come out of the TV like that?" "Oh, don't worry. I am quite contained, you know," the man said, winking at Max. "This is all just an effect, a holomagic manifestation, and sadly the extent of my ability to appear before you. For the moment, that is." "Who--what are you?" "In response to the first, they call me Doctor." The man swept his hand out grandly. "Formerly I was known as Faustus. Dr. Johann Faustus. Perhaps you've heard of me?" Max shook his head. "Immortality indeed," Faustus muttered. "Oh well. Perhaps that is for the best. As to your second inquiry--the what, as you say--I am a digital versatile demon." "A demon? You don't look like a demon." Faustus smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. I do try to maintain my looks, you know, but it's difficult these days. I do it for my wife. Every now and then, sure, Helen likes it when I grow the horns and the tail and all that, but I much prefer to look the part of a gentleman, a man of learning. If you have a preference, I can appear however you like. It's all part of the service." "No, no, you look fine. Service? What do you mean by that?" "Well, service can mean a lot of things. What you just experienced, that's just a small part. Excuse the censorship, but we are running a business and we can't give away too much on your first go, you understand. After we've settled a few particulars and you've signed up with us, you'll get the whole package, including tactile enhancements and voice response." "What, exactly, are you talking about?" Max stood up, moving closer to Faustus. The illusion was quite incredible. It really appeared that the man stood before him, in his very own living room. "Oh go ahead. Just get it over with, it won't hurt me at all." Max nodded, and slowly pressed his hand towards Faustus. It moved through him quite easily, and Max passed his hand back and forth, touching only air. Faustus screamed loudly and shook violently, causing Max to jerk his hand back and take a few steps backward. Faustus ceased immediately and grinned. "Sorry, just a little joke. I couldn't resist. That didn't hurt a bit. Anyway, on to business. "Put quite simply, I am offering you whatever your heart desires. In exchange, I require only your soul. That is the standard arrangement, but we can discuss the various subscription packages we offer and negotiate the details if you like."
The movie ended and Max waited as Faustus reappeared on the screen. "So, what do you think?" Faustus' frustration was beginning to show. Six hours into Max's twenty-four-hour free trial, he was impatient to wrap things up and sign up Max's soul for eternal damnation. "I don't know," Max hedged. "Something about that didn't seem right." "What do you mean? Was the coloration off? Did the sound not immerse you satisfactorily? Work with me here! What do you want, man?" "Well, it's just that I don't think that was exactly right. I don't remember it that way, is what I mean." He picked up the DVD case, which now displayed the familiar cover of The Wizard of Oz. "I haven't seen it since I was a kid, but I don't think the Wicked Witch was supposed to slaughter Dorothy and Toto." The burning Scarecrow was definitely familiar, but the melting of the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion eating the Wizard was new to him. It had been interesting though. He had enjoyed it. "I've never seen it myself, but this was probably just the re-mastered special edition," Faustus offered helpfully. "You're probably right." Max hesitated. "Every other movie in existence is at your fingertips--just think what you'll save in rentals! That's every movie for all time, including next summer's blockbusters, and the ones after that, and the ones after that. Just invoke the one you want to see." "Tempting," Max admitted. "And if you don't like the way the movie's going, you can just insert yourself into it and set things right." "Hmmm..." Max murmured. "Well, I do have some other doubts." "By all means, please tell me how I can better serve you. Have I mentioned the limited time offer on unlimited knowledge?" "Unlimited knowledge is very nice, but that's what the internet is for, isn't it? I mean, if I haven't already given up my soul to technology, it probably isn't necessary for me to forfeit it for something I can look up for free, is it?" "You have a point. Our Internet operation has been tremendously successful, but my records indicate your soul is currently unclaimed. What about money?" "Money? If I were interested in that, I wouldn't be a teacher, would I? I have a nice house, a decent car, an entertainment system, computers... No, there's only one thing missing from my life." Faustus nodded seriously. "I see. I think I know what you're getting at. You're poison is lust and desire." "I don't like to put it quite so basely, but yes, that's right. I'm lonely, Doctor, and I want companionship. This digital sex is excellent, but I can order any one of twenty different adult channels already." "You want the real thing." "That's not all. I can have a woman anytime I want, if I were the kind of guy willing to pay for it." Faustus nodded knowingly. "No," Max continued, "I want something more. I want love." "Ah." Max looked at Faustus balefully. "Is that something you can deliver?" "Almost certainly." Faustus flourished his cloak. "In fact, that's rather a specialty of mine. I was just like you once. I gave up my soul for all sorts of things--power, knowledge, riches, and the most luscious women you can imagine." He paused for a moment, grinning wickedly at the memory. He drew his cloak around him and went on. "But in the end, it all came down to one thing. I wanted a woman to love me. I wanted a family." "Was it worth it?" "It was the best decision of my life. I had my doubts at the very end, who wouldn't? But my life--after the death and torture in hellfire--has been remarkable. And what good is your soul to you, really?" "Do you like being a demon? Would I become one?" "Being a demon is much like being a man, without the pretense and with many more benefits. You might become a demon, if you survive the century of trials, another century in the flames of Hell, and show some proficiency towards damning your fellow man--and woman, of course. We've been getting an increasing number of female clients in the last century. And remember, you'll have a rich and fulfilling life on earth enjoying our services before your payment comes due." "All I want is Kara." "It could take a little time, these things are tricky, but I do think you will be more than satisfied with my work. Now then, are we ready to sign?" A contract appeared on the coffee table before Max. Max leaned over and picked up a quill pen lying beside it. As he bent to scrawl his signature, the doorbell rang. He put down the quill and looked up at Faustus questioningly. Faustus shrugged and shrank into the safety of the television screen. For the second time that day, Max went to the door. He opened it to reveal the deliveryman from that morning. It was now late evening, but the man's skin seemed to emanate its own red glow on the porch. He seemed diminished in size, with his tail between his legs--literally, as it turned out; Max noticed a forked tail whisking back and forth nervously between the man's knees. After the day's unusual events, Max recognized him as a devil, another demon from Hell. "I'm awfully sorry about this," the devilry-man gushed. "I'm really embarrassed about this." "What’s the matter?" Max asked. "I'm, um, here to reclaim that package I delivered this morning." "What? Why?" "You see, it wasn't intended for you." Max heard a gargled shout behind him, coming from the living room. It had sounded like a curse, but in no language he had ever heard before. The room shook with the force of it, and the lights flickered ominously. The devil pushed past him and lumbered into the living room. He cowered before the television, kneeling timidly as his clothes burned away to reveal a scaly red hide covered in thick knots of hair, and cloven hooves for feet. Horns sprouted from his head, and his eyes glowed with a pale yellow. "I'm sorry! It was an honest mistake." "You blundering fool! Ridiculous excuse for a demon! Explain yourself! Who is this man?" He pointed toward Max. "I -- I don't know, sir. The package was meant for a Malcolm Tanner." "Oh, that's the guy next door," Max piped up. "So he's into this kind of thing, is he? Consorting with devils? I always knew there was something odd about him." "I'm terribly sorry about the inconvenience..." "Max. My name is Max." "Max. It would just be best if you forgot any of this happened." "But -- I'm going to sign!" Max snatched up the contract and pen. "I'm afraid not." Faustus waved his hand, and Max watched with dismay as the contract turned to ashes in his hand and drifted away, along with all of his hopes for a happy existence with the woman he loved. "Can't you just send another demon to sign up old Tanner?" "Sorry." "Surely one soul is as good as another." "Max, to have a demon answer a summons is considered a great honor. Only the very vilest men have even a chance of it, and it is a lucky few who are able to master the proper incantations. Your heart just isn't black enough; I don't know why I didn't see it before. Your soul isn't heavy with sin, your mind is free of evil thoughts. Well, purely evil thoughts, anyway. You're just not worthy. Nothing personal." "But I'm ready to renounce God and all that! I pledge allegiance to your dark lord Satan! Come on, you're my only hope!" "You're embarrassing yourself. Really, I wish you the best of luck with Kara. Consider: you've had a chance to sample something other men only dream of. Be glad of that much. Keep surfing the 'net, and you might get lucky enough to have your soul optioned by another of our representatives." He looked around at the electronic equipment in Max's living room appraisingly. "You're on the right track. I just might be back for you one day. Miracles do happen." Faustus turned to the demon prostrated before him. "Son, drop me off at Tanner's and if things go well tonight, maybe I won't tell your mother about this." Hanging his head, the demon ejected the DVD and placed it gently back in its case. Gathering up the remains of its packaging, he shambled towards the door. "G'night," he muttered to a forlorn Max as he slipped out of the door and shut it behind him. Max threw himself on his couch and stared at the blank TV, as wisps of smoke drifted from his scorched DVD player. Well, he was back where he had started. Maybe he could just call Kara himself, take his future into his own hands. On the upside, he still had his soul, for what it was worth. Next door he heard high-pitched shrieking, followed by maniacal laughter and a deep rumbling. He raced to the window and looked at Tanner's house enviously as wicked green flames burst from its ground-floor windows. The ground split open with a terrible cracking sound, and a host of dark demonic shapes sprang from it and scurried through the front door. Max sighed wistfully. Some guys had all the luck.
|
 |
