J Morris - Selfish Beings

The sights were familiar in many respects, as were most of the sounds. Movies and TV shows had acclimatised him to an extent. Seeing them in person, however, added a new dimension. The cars, the buildings, the heavy-set Latino gangsters; they weren’t scenery or extras in the background: he could touch them. Not that he would touch them; Kaarl was new to their realm, not a complete moron.

Kaarl knew the glow would wane eventually but that always happened when one became accustomed to something. Even once the shimmer had gone there was a quality of the Mortal life and realm, an aspect they seemed to take for granted, that would never diminish in its appeal. They were free.

Until they died, they had no Lucifer, no God unless they chose to. It made them different; the way they thought and felt, the way they acted, the way they lived. It made everything about them and their world exciting and opened up possibilities unheard of in Perdition. They had no omnipotent overseer unless they believed in one. They still had societal pressures, of course, but it was not nearly as unusual for a Mortal to stray from them. The Internet was loaded with pariahs who had banded together to bask in their individuality. Admittedly, groups of non-conformists were somewhat contradictory but that just highlighted the “anything goes” nature of their realm.

Perdition obviously had something going for it as well. Every other demon and Damned Mortal seemed to enjoy being there; it just wasn’t right for Kaarl. He had always been a square peg in a round hole there but on Earth he had the chance to be more. He had been given the opportunity to live as he pleased as well as serve Lucifer. Perdition might not have been an ideal place for him to grow up but it was his realm and he did have a duty towards it. There was also the danger of Lucifer’s wrath. The Master of Perdition had been nothing but cordial when Kaarl had met him but failure was still not an option.

Kaarl began focusing on the Mortals as the trio worked their way through the pedestrians. They weren’t exactly ecstatic about their freedom.

‘They’re miserable,’ he said after a few minutes.

Aside from those who were obviously drunk or high, the expressions generally ranged from aggressive to mildly content to downright forlorn.

‘What?’ asked Vetis.

‘They’re miserable,’ Kaarl repeated as he glanced around. ‘They avoid eye contact, their smiles and laughs are lies for the most part. Has something happened here?’

‘Life has happened,’ replied Verin. ‘Do you think Facebook is a window into their souls? It’s a front; something to make their friends jealous and their lives seem special.’

‘Save the cynicism, sis,’ said Vetis. ‘They aren’t all like this. We’ve caught them at a bad time is all. They are out hunting for sex and fights. That’s not recreation like in Perdition; it’s serious business. You’ll see more of what you expected during daylight, Kaarl. Up here the night, particularly during the weekends, belongs to the false and desperate.’

Despite Vetis’s reassurance, it was still a shock to Kaarl. He knew everything on the Internet needed to be taken with a grain of salt but the people were disconnected, even the ones in groups. They were all missing something and he doubted a change in natural lighting levels would fix it. Whether it was true purpose, a sense of belonging or something else entirely he didn’t know, but it was significant. Although Perdition’s hierarchy did not really care about the Damned, they were far more content than the people he saw that night in L.A.

Debt, financial stability and looks were apparently some of their biggest worries but couldn’t be the only cause of their misery. The Mortals’ primary concern would always be death and for many fear of the afterlife that came with it added to the pressure. That made more sense to Kaarl. Death was so final if you didn’t know the truth; life did in fact go on once the mortal coil was shuffled off. He wished he could just tell them that if they played their cards right they could go to Hell and be a lot happier. Knowing without a doubt there was light at the end of the tunnel might have made their lives seem more bearable. Kaarl didn’t like living in Perdition very much but their fellow Mortals gave it rave reviews.

Information on Paradise was as unreliable as that on Perdition. It seemed the Mortals had grasped the “how to get there” well enough for both realms but “what to expect on arrival” was nothing but conjecture. Logic dictated that they would be polar opposites and if that was the case then Hell did seem the better option for their eternal souls — Mortals in Paradise would be heavily monitored, have their harmony strictly regulated and be unable to indulge in alcoholic beverages or sweaty orgies. He wondered why so many of them would deny themselves so many things just to be stuck somewhere like that for eternity.

The more he thought about it, the more the Light Bearer’s words made sense. Their fears were unfounded and they adhered to stupid rules in the hopes of gaining entry to a place that was in all likelihood sterile and bland. What good was freedom if the Hated One’s strict moral code hung over them at every turn? In Perdition all options were open and nothing was denied them. Kaarl’s mission would not be easy, but the challenge was part of the fun. No one on Earth would thank him for his efforts; for it all to work they could never know what his true objective was. In the long run, though, they would be grateful; Kaarl would help them find their way to Perdition and a better afterlife.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed when the twins began to gravitate towards one of the busier-looking bars. O’Malley’s was an Irish themed establishment with wooden panelling decorating its facade and the compulsory shamrocks painted on its windows.

‘No more drinking,’ he told the twins when he realised where they were heading. ‘Not yet, anyway. It seems like we barely left Faithless.’

‘We are getting some money, relax,’ replied Vetis. ‘We won’t be in here long.’

‘We must have passed at least twenty bars,’ said Kaarl. ‘Why this one?’

‘The clientele, the availability of escape routes, minimal security. I could go on for ages,’ Verin told him. ‘The main reason, though, is that there is no door charge here and we are penniless, in case you had forgotten.’

The girls discreetly showed him how to create the illusion of a valid ID before they got to the door. It was a strange custom, restricting alcohol to certain ages, but one Kaarl was familiar with, thanks again to the Internet. There were very few minors in Perdition and if you were old enough to sin you were old enough for gin.

As the demonic trio held up their conjured fake IDs for inspection the doorman gave them a cursory look, smiled at the girls, stone faced Kaarl and then they were through the doors. The twins walked Kaarl up to the bar and found him a space.

‘Stay here,’ said Verin. ‘When we come back, it’s time to leave. Quickly but without drawing too much attention.’

Kaarl watched as the girls sauntered over to two men in expensive-looking suits and started talking. Within minutes Verin was sitting on the lap of one and Vetis was sitting close to the other, with one of her arms at a strange angle under the table. Another minute passed and all four of them were heading off to a door marked “Men”.

Kaarl was disappointed that there was not much difference from similar places in Perdition. It had music, that was one obvious change, but he didn’t care for what was playing. There was a conspicuous absence of brawls and sex but Kaarl knew those things were frowned upon in public in the Mortal realm. To see a bar without them was a little strange but he could still sense a somewhat muted undercurrent of lust and violence in the drunken crowd. Overall, the atmosphere was familiar in more ways than he would’ve liked.