Henry Kuttner - BY THESE PRESENTS

Now that he was aware of his loss, the queer, crippling inward lack tormented him. It had presumably tormented the Little Mermaid and others. Like him, they had had immortality. Being extrahuman they had probably possessed this curious, light-headed, light-hearted freedom which even now interposed a cushion of partial indifference between Fenwick and his loss. Were not the gods supposed to spend their days in just this simple-minded joy, laughing and singing, dancing and drinking endlessly, never weary, never bored?

Up to a point it was wonderful. But once you began to suspect that something had been removed, you lost your taste for the Olympian life and began at all costs to crave a soul. Why? Fenwick couldn’t say. He only knew .

At this moment the cool summer dawn shimmered between him and the window, and the devil stood before James Fenwick.

Fenwick shuddered slightly.

“The bargain,” he said, “was for eternity.”

“Yes,” the devil said. “Only you can abrogate it.”

“Well, I don’t intend to,” Fenwick told him sharply. “How did you happen to show up at just this moment?”

“I thought I heard my name called,” the devil said. “Did you want to speak to me? I seemed to catch a note of despair in your mind. How do you feel? Bored yet? Ready to end it?”

“Certainly not,” Fenwick said. “But if I were it’s because you swindled me. I want a word with you. What was it you took out of my head in your closed hand the day of our pact?”

“I don’t care to discuss it,” the devil said, lashing his tail slightly.

“Well, I care,” Fenwick cried. “You told me it was only a few unimportant memories I’d never miss.”

“And so it was,” the devil said, grinning.

“It was my soul!” Fenwick said, striking the bedclothes angrily. “You cheated me. You collected my soul in advance, and now I can’t enjoy the immortality I bought with it. This in an out-and-out breach of contract.”

“What seems to be the trouble?” the devil asked.

“There must be a great many things I’d enjoy doing, if I had my soul back,” Fenwick said. “I could take up music and become a great musician, if I had my soul. I always liked music, and I have eternity to learn in. Or I could study mathematics. I could learn nuclear physics and who knows, with all the time and money and knowledge in the world at my command, there’s no limit to the things I could achieve. I could even blow up the world and rob you of all future souls. How would you like that?”

The devil laughed politely and polished his talons on his sleeve.

“Don’t laugh,” Fenwick said. “It’s perfectly true. I could study medicine and prolong human life. I could study politics and economics and put an end to wars and suffering. I could study crime and fill up Hell with new converts. I could do anything - if I had my soul back. But without it - well, everything is too - too peaceful.” Fenwick’s shoulders sagged disconsolately. “I feel cut off from humanity,” he said. “Everything I do is blocked. But I’m calm and carefree. I’m not even unhappy. And yet I don’t know what to do next. I -”

“In a word, you’re bored,” the devil said. “Excuse me if I don’t show enough sympathy for your plight.”

“In a word, you swindled me,” Fenwick said. “I want back my soul.”

“I told you exactly what it was I took,” the devil said.

“My soul!”

“Not at all,” the devil assured him. “I’m afraid I shall have to leave you now.”

“Give me back my soul, you swindler!”

“Try and make me do it,” the devil said with a broad grin. The first ray of the morning sun shimmered in the cool air of the bedroom, and in the shimmer the devil dissolved and vanished.

“Very well,” Fenwick said to the emptiness. “Very well, I will.”

He wasted no time about it. Or at least, no more time than his curious, carefree placidity enforced.

“How can I bring pressure on the devil?” he asked himself. “By blocking him in some way? I don’t see how. Well, then, by depriving him of something he values? What does he value? Souls. All souls. My soul. Hm-m-m.” He frowned pensively. “I could,” he reflected, “repent…”

Fenwick thought all day about it. The idea tempted him, and yet of course in a way it was self-defeating. The consequences were unpredictable. Besides, he was not sure how to go about it. To undertake a lifetime of good deeds seemed so boring.

In the evening he went out alone and walked at twilight through the streets, thinking deeply. The people he passed were like transient shadows reflected on the screen of time. They had no significance. The air was sweet and calm, and if it had not been for this sense of nagging injustice, the aimless inability to use the immortality he had paid so high for, he would have felt entirely at peace.

Presently the sound of music penetrated his rapt senses and he looked up to find himself outside the portal of a great cathedral. Shadowy people went up and down the steps. From within deep organ music rolled, the sound of singing emerged, occasional waves of incense were sweet on the air. It was most impressive.

Fenwick thought, “I could go up and embrace the altar and shout out my repentance.” He put his foot on the bottom step, but then he hesitated and felt that he could not face it. The cathedral was too impressive. He would feel like such a fool. And yet -

He walked on, undecided. He walked a long way.

Again the sound of music interrupted his thinking. This time he was passing a vacant lot upon which a large revival tent had been pitched. There was a great deal of noise coming out of it. Music pounded wildly through the canvas walls. Men and women were singing and shouting inside.

Fenwick paused, struck by hope. Here at least he could do his repenting without attracting more than a passing glance. He hesitated briefly and then went in.

It was very noisy, crowded and confused inside. But before Fenwick an aisle stretched between benches toward an altar, of sorts, with several highly excited people clustered under the arms of an even more highly excited speaker in an improvised pulpit.

Fenwick started down the aisle.

“How should I phrase this?” he wondered, walking slowly. “Just ‘I repent’? Is that enough? Or something like, ‘I have sold my soul to the devil and I hereby repudiate the bargain’? Are legal terms necessary?”

He had almost reached the altar when the air shimmered before him and the crimson outlines of the devil appeared very faintly, a mere three-dimensional sketch upon the dusty air.

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” the pale image said.

Fenwick sneered and walked through him.

At this the devil pulled himself together and appeared in full form and colour in the aisle, blocking Fenwick’s way.

“I wish you wouldn’t create scenes like this,” the devil said pettishly. “I can’t tell you how uncomfortable I feel here. Kindly don’t be a fool, Fenwick.”

Several people in the crowd cast curious glances at the devil, but no one seemed unduly interested. Most probably thought him a costumed attendant, and those who knew him for what he was may have been accustomed to the sight, or perhaps they expected some such apparition in such a place at such a time. There was no disturbance.

“Out of my way,” Fenwick said. “My mind is made up.”

“You’re cheating,” the devil complained. “I can’t allow it.”

“You cheated,” Fenwick reminded him. “Try and stop me.”

“I will,” the devil said, and reached out both taloned hands.

Fenwick laughed.

“I am a system enclosed within itself,” he said. “You can’t harm me. Remember?”

The devil gnashed his teeth.