With a resigned sigh, Kyle turned off the TV, leaned back in his chair, and put his hands over his face. As if he could somehow hide from reality. “I need a drink.” At eight a.m., it was definitely too early. But how else was he supposed to numb himself?
I won’t argue. But all the alcohol in the world won’t save you from that shit. It can’t hurt to try, though.
Groaning, Kyle tried to sink further into his seat. He knew watching the news was important, especially as a history teacher. But something about observing history as it happened was extremely depressing, at least lately. “Most of us really are going to Hell, huh?”
Oh yeah. The demon’s answer was uncomfortably cheerful.
“Why are we like this?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, even if Ryka did have the answer.
You’re willful.
“Willfully cruel and ignorant, I think you mean.”
You said it; not me. But mortals are strong-willed. You like to feel in control, even if it means being an asshole to prove you can make some sort of impact.
Sunday school memories came rushing back, though not as clearly as his pastor probably would have liked. More recent sources had also made his previous education seem not just woefully inadequate, but inaccurate as well. “Is this a free will deal, then? Is that a real thing? And do we really have it?”
It is and you do. It’s - what would you call it? - the factory standard. You’re all created with it. For better or worse. Usually worse.
“Great. So we’re just fucked?” Just when he thought the news couldn’t get any worse, it always somehow managed to.
Basically. But if you want to make things more tolerable or less depressing, you just have to ask.
That gave Kyle pause. There was no doubt what Ryka was insinuating - let him personally deal with the hordes of sinners and wipe the slate clean. Kyle had no aspirations for global domination, but his curiosity got the better of him. “How many people would have to die?” To casually ask such a thing - what was happening to him?
A lot. At least half, just to be safe.
Eyes wide, Kyle shook his head. “I think we can manage that without your help.” Humanity seemed to be doing a great job of culling the herd thus far. “But also, no offense, can you even do that?” Ryka had learned lots of new, and oftentimes disturbing, tricks since their initial meeting, but he felt sure there was no way Ryka could do what he was suggesting.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
I said free will was standard. But immortals can switch it off. You’ve seen me do it.
Kyle recalled the instances where just a word from Ryka had stopped people in their tracks or led them right into his clutches. And he shivered. It really had been more than their fear compelling them. It had been Ryka’s will overpowering their own. “Right.”
All we’d need to do is mess with the right people at the right time, and we could bring this world to its knees. Kyle’s moment of shocked hesitation was taken as something else entirely. Want options, then? I can get us into whatever supposedly secure room I need to and ask that one right person to push the button that starts the nuclear war you’re all so worried about. Or -
“I’ll pass. On any option. I think I’ll just ride out whatever happens. Probably watch less TV so I can sleep at night.”
If you say so.
“I do,” Kyle said, a little sternly. But he didn’t want to leave any room for doubt. Though he had one question, sure to keep him tossing and turning for days to come. “Any of you could do this?”
Yup. All of us can override free will temporarily. The stronger we are, the longer we can take over for. And the more mortals we can control at once. Any of us could shake things up here, but there’s really only two you need to worry about. One Kyle couldn’t name, the other Ryka would rather he didn’t. They’re the ones that could flip that switch on every last mortal on a whim. If they get bored with you all and decide to end everything ….
Kyle shuddered, and tried to close his eyes against the mental images Ryka sent him of the mass suicides that would result. “I get it.” The visions stopped, but Kyle didn’t feel any more at ease.
And now you’re worried about how much I’ve done this to you.
“Well ….”
I haven’t. I can’t. It’s different for us. We share the same body, so if I really need you to do something, like get your ass off the ground and get moving, I just do that. It’s really easy if you pass out, but even still … No need to turn you into a zombie. And you know I’m not lying.
“I know,” Kyle replied, sounding unsure all the same.
If you’re looking for some reassurance, I’m sure I can think of something. Get your mind off that bullshit you were just watching, too.
“I don’t think that will help.”
Bummer. What will?
“I really don’t know.”
How about this: all these assholes you worry yourself sick about get what they deserve - an eternity of suffering. And the people they torment get to spend their eternity in bliss, hardly remembering the bad things that happened to them when they were alive.
“That almost helps. It’s still really hard to see it happening.”
You’re too damn nice. But this is all temporary. You don’t need to worry about it so much.
“I do still have to survive it, though,” he reminded the demon, motioning at the newspaper spread out on the coffee table. Headlines blared news of hate, war, destruction and disease.
But you’ve got me. And I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.
“Thank you, Ry.”
No need to thank me.
“You can’t stop me. Free will, remember?”
Touché.