The Last Candle

The last candle is lit. The chalk pentagram is perfectly inscribed. My black robe is freshly pressed and linted. The hood rests just above my eyes. The Infernal incense is burning. The time is exactly 2:59:45 AM. I have spoken the opening incantation flawlessly. I have named the demon I seek. I’m taking some breaths now to pause, so I can sync up my final syllable exactly with the stroke of 3, which the books stress is very important. I’m very proud because no one has thought of that idea before, and it lets me get the timing perfect with only 1/10th the practice.

Also, it’s my last chance to change my mind. But I’m not going to.

“Appear now, in this circle. My will be done below, as it is above. Appear!”

Only something is already wrong. Halfway through I begin to hear a screeching voice speaking in sync with me. Only it reverses the words “below” and “above”. Never mind. It worked, after all. A demon stands in the circle. Wow, it barely fits. Maybe I should have gone with the larger pattern. I thought I asked for a smart one, not a big one.

“OK, demon. What I desire is very simple, so this shouldn’t take long.”

The demon laughs and then looks at me with what I’d call pity if I didn’t know better. “Sorry, you’re probably very confused right now,” it says. “See, you believe that you’ve summoned me to your domain. When actually, the fact is that I’ve summoned you to my domain.”

“That’s absurd. Look, we’re in my room.” Shit. I’m already off script. The books are very clear that you shouldn’t let them get you off script.

“Of course it looks like your room. That’s the hardest part of the Infernal summoning ritual, to create a room that looks exactly right. We have to fool reality itself, after all.”

“That can’t be right… uh, well — then why are you in the chalk circle?” I knew it was dumb as soon as I said it.

“This old thing? Obviously I drew it as protection against you touching me and disrupting the spell. Go ahead and test it if you like, you’ll find it completely impassible.” The demon tilted its head, as if to add, isn’t that obvious? Or are you a dummy?

“Nice try, but no, I’m not going to disrupt the circle. I’m not an idiot. And your story doesn’t make any sense. I spent days preparing for this ritual, and an hour casting it just now. Clearly I’m the instigator here, not you.”

The demon laughs again. “Yes, of course you tried to do a ritual. But time in Hell works differently than in your domain. Once I felt the tiniest tinge of a summoning I began my own summoning ritual. It is a difficult feat, taking me more than a subjective year, but I just barely managed to complete my ritual before you could complete yours. Therefore, you are my guest here in Hell. Take a look out the door if you don’t believe me (the window is painted, so don’t bother).”

I blink. Shit. Is this why no one else had the bright idea of inserting a pause to sync up to the exact time. Obviously I can’t open the door, or the window either, for that matter. That will disrupt the ritual.

“You have no idea what I went through to reproduce your curtains and the pile of dirty laundry down to the stray hairs,” the demon continued. “It wasn’t unpleasant work, though. Even though we only have one raw material to work with in the 7th circle, we’re very proficient at working with it. Do you know what it is?” Big, toothy grin.

I shudder. I pick up the ritual book. Maybe there is some paragraph about the Infernal version of the ritual that I missed.

“I’m flattered that you trust the contents of the books I placed here.” That grin again. At least I think it’s supposed to be a grin.

But the demon is right — if its version of the story is correct, I dare not read anything in the book. I put it back. “OK, demon, look here. You make some good arguments, but generally speaking, we humans have found that it’s best not to believe anything you lot say.

“So this is the deal we’re going to make. You’re going to go visit my Summoning 101 professor and get the asshole to change my grade to a passing one. By any means necessary. And then I’ll end the ritual and you can go home.”

The demon gave me that look again. The one that you’d give a small, stupid child. “That’s what you have to offer? An early end? You realize the longer my ritual lasts, the more of your soul is permanently transported to Hell. I decline your offer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Souls can’t exist in both planes at once. That’s one of the best known laws of Summoning.” Shit, I had just gotten back on script and now I’m derailed again.

“Of course, of course. But the summoning ritual I just performed — well, OK, you helped out, I suppose — anyway, it bridges the two planes for the moment. When they snap back apart as the ritual ends, some fraction of your soul stays with me. Your scholars haven’t understood this because they haven’t thought to ask what it would feel like, subjectively, to have your soul split.”

“What… would that feel like?” Argh, I’m so dumb. It’s a liar, don’t ask it!

“Well, it’s very simple math, really. Even a child could understand it. Each fraction of the soul perceives and remembers its past, but has no knowledge of the split itself. This has been going on for six minutes or so? I think that means about 2% of your soul has now relocated to the balmy 7th circle. If this ritual ended right now, the fragment of your soul here would be 1/50th of your original soul, and the remaining 49 parts would stay in the upper plane.

“Subjectively speaking, that feels like rolling a 50 sided die. If it comes up a 1, then you get to be the soul that stays with me! The other you will never know your suffering. At least not until it eventually joins you.” A pause. The look of pity again. “Of course, you’re a bit slow, so by the time you comprehend this, the odds will be even better.” The grin again.

I notice that I’m sweating. “That’s impossible. If my soul were smaller, it couldn’t carry the full weight of my experiences. It wouldn’t be me any more.”

The demon shook its head. “I can see it’s going to be a long night. Souls are infinite in size, splitting them up doesn’t make them any smaller. I think we’ll spend the first few centuries of your sojourn with me reading about measures, wouldn’t that be delightful? I mean, just the parts right after your eyes have grown back, obviously. The rest of the time you won’t be able to read.”

I finally notice a flaw in the demon’s argument. “That means that I’m still in my plane, or at least most of me is. You still have to make a deal with me or you’ll never escape back to your domain! And another thing, it doesn’t matter how much of my soul ends up there, it’ll look the same to you. Not that I believe you.”

“Maybe we’ll spend the next few centuries after that learning about the delightful various sorts of infinities. The more of you that ends up here, the more delightful it is to cause you pain!” The demon’s grin is going from ear to ear now, literally. It would be more comical if it weren’t exposing so many sharp teeth.

But the demon didn’t respond to my point. It does have to make a deal with me after all. “So here’s the deal then. You do what I asked while I wait here, or I end the ritual right now.”

“I accep— ” the demon starts, when I see the flaw in my deal.

“AND you have to finish within an hour,” I add, panicked. That was a close call.

“Very well. We have an agreement.” For once, a sad expression. The circle flickers, the demon is no longer visible.

I wait. The candles burn low. Maybe an hour was too long; I’m not sure how long it would really take to persuade the instructor. Not much can be done about it now, though.

Exactly one hour later, the demon reappears. “It is as you wish, my lord,” it mocks. “Would you like to know how much of your soul this has cost you?”

“No,” I say. I blow out the candle.