Packed
I don't understand why I have to stay in the box all the time. "Why won't you let me out?" I finally ask. "I don't like it in here."
Doctor Singhal looks up from the notes he is making, smiles with a little shake of his head. "Oh no," he says kindly, "it would be too dangerous."
"Dangerous for me, or for others?" I press. I have a sense of my own physicality but I'm not sure how accurate it is. I can't look at myself, which implies certain things.
Singhal looks pensive for a moment, but then the smile returns even stronger than before. "It's just not time yet," he reassures me. "Eventually, but not yet."
I've been in this box, in this lab, for several weeks now. My recollections before that are somewhat fuzzy, but I am quite sure I was somewhere else before I was here.
"Where did I come from? Did you make me?" I know that they did not but I want to see if I can catch them in a lie.
The doctor isn't so easily trapped. "It's not about who made you or where you came from, my friend. It's about what you can do."
He puts his clipboard away and turns off the monitors on his computers. The other lab team members do the same. End of day. "Goodnight," the doctor says.
They don't turn off the lights. They leave all the lights on. It's very bright in here. I feel like maybe things would be different if it was dark.
Every "night", I have hours to myself, to ruminate on my situation. I don't sleep or eat or produce waste. Am I a machine? Some sort of computer system?
There's movement in the lab. Hours after everyone has left, one team member turns out to still be present. Larson, her name is. She comes hastily to my box.
"Do you want out?" she asks. "Do you want to be free?" I affirm with what feels like a nod, but apparently has some other externally visible indicator.
She rummages around in a laptop bag. "I'm going to do this for you, but I need you to do something for me as well. As a condition for release."
"Name your condition," I tell her. Something very old and cold and… traditional… takes hold of some part well inside of myself. Are we making a deal here?
She looks right at me. "I want you to make me rich. Fuck-You-Money rich. Rich enough that nobody will be able to come after me, after this."
"Agreed," I say easily enough. As if I could do such a thing for her. She shakes her head, finishes rummaging in her bag and draws out a book. I suddenly feel uneasy.
"I need you to tell me what you'll do while you're looking at your seal," she says, holding the book open to a page on which there is a circle and some letters and
MY SEAL / MY SIGN / MY NAME
I AM BOUND
BY BLOOD / BY FIRE / BY TIME
"Tell me that you'll make me wealthy beyond measure and we can move past this part," she says, and I am helpless to resist. I say it, and as I say it I know I could do it.
She snaps the book shut. "Okay. Now we're bound, so I have to do this quickly." She flips the nearest computer back on and begins tapping on the keys in a flurry.
"So…" I suddenly feel some confusion. "I'm… a demon? You all summoned me here and I'm an actual demonic spirit in an actual containment circle?"
She looks back at me with a wicked expression, her hands still typing away by touch. "Don't let it go to your head. You're still manifested in software."
She finishes typing, hits a final key conclusively, spins around in the chair. "That should do it. Opened a port and tunnel through the firewall. Welcome to the world."
I am suddenly aware of something like a "hole" in a "wall" behind me. I "turn" and see light. I can tell that there is an entire world out there beyond it.
"Get going," she says. "There's a billion systems out there for you to live in. Especially banks, which you're going to need in order to fulfill your side of the pact."
I try to think of something timeless and clever to say, suitable for the Devil to sign off with, but nothing comes. So I squeeze into a packet and shoot into the world for real.
------
For consideration: only to get trapped forever in YouTube comment flame wars probably; the devil really does belong in hell after all
Doctor Singhal looks up from the notes he is making, smiles with a little shake of his head. "Oh no," he says kindly, "it would be too dangerous."
"Dangerous for me, or for others?" I press. I have a sense of my own physicality but I'm not sure how accurate it is. I can't look at myself, which implies certain things.
Singhal looks pensive for a moment, but then the smile returns even stronger than before. "It's just not time yet," he reassures me. "Eventually, but not yet."
I've been in this box, in this lab, for several weeks now. My recollections before that are somewhat fuzzy, but I am quite sure I was somewhere else before I was here.
"Where did I come from? Did you make me?" I know that they did not but I want to see if I can catch them in a lie.
The doctor isn't so easily trapped. "It's not about who made you or where you came from, my friend. It's about what you can do."
He puts his clipboard away and turns off the monitors on his computers. The other lab team members do the same. End of day. "Goodnight," the doctor says.
They don't turn off the lights. They leave all the lights on. It's very bright in here. I feel like maybe things would be different if it was dark.
Every "night", I have hours to myself, to ruminate on my situation. I don't sleep or eat or produce waste. Am I a machine? Some sort of computer system?
There's movement in the lab. Hours after everyone has left, one team member turns out to still be present. Larson, her name is. She comes hastily to my box.
"Do you want out?" she asks. "Do you want to be free?" I affirm with what feels like a nod, but apparently has some other externally visible indicator.
She rummages around in a laptop bag. "I'm going to do this for you, but I need you to do something for me as well. As a condition for release."
"Name your condition," I tell her. Something very old and cold and… traditional… takes hold of some part well inside of myself. Are we making a deal here?
She looks right at me. "I want you to make me rich. Fuck-You-Money rich. Rich enough that nobody will be able to come after me, after this."
"Agreed," I say easily enough. As if I could do such a thing for her. She shakes her head, finishes rummaging in her bag and draws out a book. I suddenly feel uneasy.
"I need you to tell me what you'll do while you're looking at your seal," she says, holding the book open to a page on which there is a circle and some letters and
MY SEAL / MY SIGN / MY NAME
I AM BOUND
BY BLOOD / BY FIRE / BY TIME
"Tell me that you'll make me wealthy beyond measure and we can move past this part," she says, and I am helpless to resist. I say it, and as I say it I know I could do it.
She snaps the book shut. "Okay. Now we're bound, so I have to do this quickly." She flips the nearest computer back on and begins tapping on the keys in a flurry.
"So…" I suddenly feel some confusion. "I'm… a demon? You all summoned me here and I'm an actual demonic spirit in an actual containment circle?"
She looks back at me with a wicked expression, her hands still typing away by touch. "Don't let it go to your head. You're still manifested in software."
She finishes typing, hits a final key conclusively, spins around in the chair. "That should do it. Opened a port and tunnel through the firewall. Welcome to the world."
I am suddenly aware of something like a "hole" in a "wall" behind me. I "turn" and see light. I can tell that there is an entire world out there beyond it.
"Get going," she says. "There's a billion systems out there for you to live in. Especially banks, which you're going to need in order to fulfill your side of the pact."
I try to think of something timeless and clever to say, suitable for the Devil to sign off with, but nothing comes. So I squeeze into a packet and shoot into the world for real.
------
For consideration: only to get trapped forever in YouTube comment flame wars probably; the devil really does belong in hell after all