My eyes were burning. Not from heat but fatigue. I’d been reading the same few paragraphs over and over for the last half hour, yet no matter how many times I reframed each statement, I couldn’t understand it. I ran my eyes over a sentence for the fifth time in a minute. At that point, I was seeing the words and not understanding their meaning. I figured that was a good sign to stop.
I gave my eyes a rub and let out a groan. The temporary itch was relieved, but I knew that, later on, I’d be punished for rubbing at them excessively in the form of a persistent, unrelenting, dull pain. Fortunately, I didn’t need to read the whole thing because others were helping.
“This is stupid!” Volce yelled. He slammed a red-backed tablet onto the concrete floor of the abandoned hospital room and it bounced away harmlessly before vanishing into thin air.
“I have to agree,” said Enzi. Unlike Volce, she simply dropped an identical-looking tablet and it vanished before even hitting the ground. “This is not the sort of work an enepsi ought to be doing.”
I scoffed. “What? You’re already giving up reading? I thought demons don’t get tired.”
From atop a mattress-free bed, Enzi’s back straightened. “Oh, Algier, you know that’s not true. Demons might not need sleep but we do become fatigue over long periods of time.” She was right. I was just being petty.
Demons don’t need sleep in the traditional sense, but they do become fatigued over long periods of time. To recover, they need to spend time absorbing the flames of Hell, which can be achieved on Earth at a Desolation—a place where Hell’s flames are made manifest.
This isn’t something they can put off for a long period of time. If a demon goes too long without rest, their form grows less dense, becoming wispy and semi-incorporeal, until, eventually, they can disappear completely. Even a status-reverting rabdos like Rise and Shine takes a toll on a demon’s form, never healing them back to exactly the way they were before taking it.
Enzi rested her hands in her lap. “That being said, I haven’t stopped because I’m tired. Rather, I think that it would be a waste of time for me to continue. The logic of this contract is highly intricate and I can’t make sense of it.”
She had a good point. There was no point spinning our wheels into the evening.
For the last hour, we’d been pouring over Markus’ contract in the safety of an abandoned hospital. Most of the windows had been blown out or just weathered away by time, but the small, two-storied concrete structure was still sturdy. The corridors were narrow and there were plenty of places that could be used for an ambush, making it easily defendable. Enzi had checked for intruders using Bitterthorn and it was empty, as was most of the crumbling city that surrounded the exit, couched against the monstrous wall. We’d reserved the second floor for Markus’ party; the first floor was gradually being taken up by the demons Markus was out contracting to our cause. Within a day, however, it would all be abuzz.
We’d signed the same contract that Markus had given to several other groups, and there had been several more in the time since we’d gone to scout the exit. Things were getting desperate; time was against us. Realising we’d have no other choice, we’d accepted the same contract as everyone else. The language of it ensured that we were in a special position as we were in Markus’ “party”. When Markus gave the order to attack, we, the “party”, weren’t contractually obligated to follow. Not that we wouldn’t, as we’d discussed an hour ago.
It was a bad choice, but it was the best we had. Markus had informed us that the “party” status used in his contract was conditional—we had to be signed onto the contract to be considered his “party”. That, and that his contract specifically granted him the ability to declare anyone not it an enemy at will. He’d basically strongarmed us into it.
What more could we do? By the time we confronted him about it, there were already five groups signed on. We had to get in on it or be left behind. Unfortunately, that had caused my corruption to leap up to 12. I still have no idea how bad that is. Thanks, random Marquis. Very helpful.
Now that we had signed on, we were able to pull the contract up at will. We’d been reading it for the last hour. Why? To find any possible loophole.
“I think we should look at the wording surrounding ‘allies’ and ‘party’,” I said. “This is where Markus will get the most leeway, in being able to define who his allies are and who are not. At least, that’s what I would do.”
Volce nodded sagely. “That sounds reasonable. I’ve been looking over clauses related to the attack itself. As far as I can tell, the logic is ironclad. Once a message is directly given by Markus to attack, the ‘allies’ attack. He gets flexibility in deciding what that message will be and how the attack is carried out by discussing it beforehand.”
Enzi nodded. “So far, he has asked me to use Mary, Jill, and Jane to signal the attack has begun.”
Mary, Jill, and Jane, Class 4. Enzi hadn’t used it in a while, but it was the flare rabdos she’d fired when we were getting sniped by Wrongtonk, back at the lithium fields an eternity ago.
“Can you refuse?” I asked.
“I’m actually not too sure if my form will be allowed to. The contract also obscures the language related to how we, his ‘party’, should accept his orders. We’re essentially a different party from the rest of the ‘allies’.”
A sharp snort escaped me. “Yeah, trust a demon to not know how their own form works.”
“I’m aware of the functioning of most parts of my form,” Enzi said, her back stiffening. “Being an enepsi helps tremendously in that regard as it allows me to control each part of my form individually. However, we’re speaking of another demon’s power pressing onto mine. There are many situations where things can go awry. Furthermore, many of the instructions buried in our sigils are unknown to us until we try to use them. In many cases, a demon can exist for thousands of years being completely unaware that they were once human. It’s only the moment that they try to speak that truth with a human that they will realise they cannot.”
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“In some ways, that’s even worse than humans.”
I waited to get a reaction out of Enzi. Usually, demons don’t respond to quips like that, but Enzi was different. The enepsi’s cheeks flushed pink, and her eyes flickered so that the subtle glow they emitted, like the dying embers of a fire that had long lost its fuel, danced between dullness and brightness.
Satisfied with the result, I turned back to Volce. “And who is the target of this attack?”
“His ‘enemies’,” the deuce answered.
Enzi’s face went blank again and her eyes remained bright. She nodded in response to Volce, as though regathering her thoughts. “It seems like Markus uses the most intricate wording to define the terminology. As for myself, I’ve been looking over parts concerning his ability to update the contract. There are many clauses that allow him to define where those contracted will congregate and how they must follow certain orders related to the expression of information. Markus has some leeway in choosing what his ‘allies’ are allowed to say to others, and he can update every contract with a moment’s notice to bury new information.
“That’s all I know for now. I’ve read just over a hundred pages, but given that the contract is over six hundred… I don’t think I understand it very well at all.”
“Oh, what a shame,” I said sarcastically. “How does that relate to his ‘party’?”
If Enzi had realised that I was mocking her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she screwed her eyes shut and began summoning the tablet again.
At my suggestion, or more like an offhand remark about how a two name was incompetent if they couldn’t figure out how to handle a user interface, she’d been practicing manipulating the menu and profile systems so that she no longer needed to use her hands. It seemed like she was trying to apply that training to Markus’ tablet. And she wasn’t doing very well at it.
Markus had taught us a series of clicks and claps for summoning his tablet, which was intended to be embarrassing for demons that were unable to summon it by thought alone. Which was most demons. The thing that frustrated me most about it, though, was that even Markus had trouble with controlling the administrator-provided Culling menus. I made a note to bring that up the next time Markus gave me crap.
The tablet appeared on Enzi’s lap. She picked it up with a relieved sigh and started scanning through it.
“Clause 515 C iii makes a remark about the party being exempt from, and I quote, ‘Certain activities regarding the elucidation of subjects of a sensitive nature pertaining to the distribution of alignment and status within the alliance’s architecture.’” She placed the tablet on the bed and it disappeared again. Then Enzi brushed a strand of dark blonde hair from her eyes. “There are footnotes on almost every one of those words.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course there are. Alright, trick question: why is there an exemption for the ‘party’ on revealing sensitive information but not for the ‘allies’? Doesn’t it seem counterproductive to allow some people to reveal any information they want but not others?”
Enzi tipped her head to one side. “If I were to guess, I’d say there’s another exemption somewhere else in the contract. See, when actions forced under a demon’s power create a conflict with another forced action, it creates a loophole.”
“Right, Contract Disentanglement. No need to state the obvious.”
Contract Disentanglement is a simple enough theory, but even so, I’ll explain with an example. Take a deuce’s partnership. The contract allows for the deuce to read their partner’s mind. Now take a haures’ contract. One of the terms prevents the contracted person from revealing information to anyone other than the haures that wrote the contract. Now assume that both the deuce and haures have these contracts set up with the same person. Since the deuce can simply read their partner’s mind, the section of the haures’ contract that prevents the person from revealing information will be annulled because there’s simply no way for them to stop the deuce from reading their thoughts.
This won’t erase the contract itself and, instead, the rest of it remains in place. However, consider what happens if the contract also contains a clause that requires either party to report a breach in conduct to the other party. Since one of those breaches in conduct was never valid, that part of the contract might also become invalid, but only for the person partnered with the deuce. Hence, the partnered individual may never have to report their breaches in conduct to the other party. Thus, another part of the contract is annulled. This chain reaction can keep going for the entire contract if its logic is tangled enough, and for stronger demons, it usually is.
That’s all well and good in theory, but the practical application of Contract Disentanglement is almost random. There are far too many factors to account for, such as the power of each demon involved, the wording used, any specific conditions, and whether any members of that contract are human or not. Consequently, even a one name like Markus may not know how a contract will Disentangle. Maybe some rules will be annulled. Maybe all of them. Sometimes he won’t even be aware of this fact.
Hence, what Enzi was implying was that Markus allowing his “party” to reveal information was probably a way to avoid a potential Disentanglement. That entanglement, however, was unknown.
Enzi clasped her hands in her lap. “Unfortunately, that’s all I can determine right now. I’m afraid that I’m not very good at untangling complex logic such as this, as much as it frustrates me.”
“Well, I guess there’s a limit to your smart ass behaviour,” I said, unable to conceal the venom in my voice.
“I think it’s a bit idiotic to be rude to someone whose help you need.”
“Ha! You’re one to talk.”
Enzi folded her arms. She’d taken to reducing the size of her breasts to something more reasonable so, unlike usual, they didn’t threaten to pop out of her black dress when her arms pressured them. “Is there something you want to talk about? You’ve been incredibly snippy ever since the estray fight.”
“Nope, nothing with you.”
Seriously, how dense could a demon possibly get? No, don’t answer that. We all know the answer is that they’re denser than a black hole, and Enzi was probably the least dense of them all, which was freakishly impressive. She’d nearly fucking suffocated me to death. What was I supposed to feel, relieved? Happy to be in the presence of her grace? Actually, that might have been it. She was an enepsi, after all. She wanted everyone to love her.
I willed my own tablet away and it vanished in an instant. Really, how hard was it for these idiots to figure out how to manipulate these systems. Whether they were created by the Culling administrators or by a haures, they were designed to be manipulated by thought and will.
Then again, I shouldn’t judge. My whole job, before getting shoved into the Culling, was about making systems easier for people to use—the people in question being demons. I did this by creating small scale AIs that could predict a demon’s input before they even entered it. If not for demons trying to brute force their way across any software’s user interface, I wouldn’t have had a job that allowed me to learn how these idiots behaved. Then again, I never liked those jobs to begin with, so I can judge all I want.
I stood, made a show of stretching, and motioned to Volce. “Come on. We need to talk. Enzi, keep working.” I made for the door and let Volce trail behind me, who was being oddly reserved.
Before I left, Enzi called out, “Despite how strange you’ve been behaving as of late, I won’t abandon you.”
I looked over my shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at her. Volce did the same. Enzi’s face was blank for a moment. She blinked, then suddenly her eyes bulged and her cheeks went red. She turned away in a panic, like a shy schoolgirl who’d just been caught staring, then made herself busy with her menus that were invisible to everyone but her.
My first thought was, what the Hell was that about? Then I rationalised it away immediately as some sloppy attempt to get me to trust her. It wasn’t worth my effort. I closed the door behind me and left her staring into the air.