Selfish Beings. J Morris LЧитать онлайн книгу.
others who did not even know them or the departed leave spiteful, hurtful comments. Mastema was truly in awe of some of the despicable things written for the world to see.
‘All of this random hate and malice; some of these people are so close to becoming ours, they don’t even realise it. What does that mean?’ he asked, pointing to a line on the screen of a memorial page.
‘This “lolurmu -’
‘It means “laugh out loud, your mother is dead” ‘
‘Delightful’
‘It is a commonly held belief that what humans say in the relative anonymity of the Internet is mostly at odds with how they act in real life Father.’
Mastema was so pleased with what he had learnt he did not reprimand Kaarl for his familiarity. ‘That is not important, Kaarl; this lack of compassion is under the surface. It seems a good proportion of them are thinking it. All that is needed is to bring this to the surface, make them act like they speak and Perdition is back in business, well and truly.’
Deumos came in with their dinner hours later as Mastema had forgotten all about eating. As Kaarl had continued his crash course in human development using the Internet, he had been absorbed in the possibilities the new world of man presented for gathering souls. His wife gave him an all-knowing smile and left father and son to their work.
As the night progressed, talk turned to other facets of modern-day life and Mastema found a measure of respect for his son. The child was weak and feeble, but he was cunning and knowledgeable and that made up for it a little. Kaarl’s insight into the workings of the contemporary Mortal was remarkable and his understanding of their ways was extensive. Mastema decided that Kaarl and his information would be integral to “his” plan and proceeded to fill the child in on the rest of Abaddon’s announcement. Sans Lucifer’s judgement in person and the familicide that would follow if everyone failed. He was sure the boy wouldn’t respond well to pressure.
‘You mean you’d get to go to the Mortal realm?’ Kaarl asked, unable to mask his excitement and envy at such a prospect.
‘Not necessarily. Abaddon said the best demon for the job, and I doubt if myself or any other Demon Lord could match your knowledge of the Earth as it is today.’
Kaarl’s jaw dropped as the reality of what his father was saying dawned on him. ‘You think they would let me go?’ he asked.
‘If the plan is sound I’m sure I can convince the Board that you are the only logical choice.’
Mastema had seen enough over the evening to be sure his studious son was up to the task of assembling the basis of the proposal. He told him how to set out his ideas and the format that would be required. A little more time spent with Kaarl now meant less editing when he came to put his own name on the work. Mastema knew the boy wanted to visit Earth desperately, and would break his own back to do so. He was more than willing to be the patsy who went up to enact the plan, and that provided a safety net for Mastema. If anything went wrong the boy could take most of the blame.
Mastema found it slightly odd that the cerebral challenge of the task and the chance to go to Earth was more of a motivation to Kaarl than helping to deprive the Hated One of souls. He would have assumed that with the boy’s lack of social status he would be champing at the bit for some acceptance. Any normal Demon would be focusing on reaping the Damned and denying them entry to Heaven rather than seeing it as merely the by-product of solving a problem and the chance to play tourist. Whilst strange, it was not really important, and his son was far from normal. The end result would be the same and that was all that mattered. Confident that his son’s fervour and intelligence would be more than enough to get the task done, Mastema headed back to his own bedroom, contemplating a week of golf whilst the other Lords worked themselves into a stupor.
Chapter Three: Meeting the Master
The visit had left Kaarl with a lot of work to do and the faint tang of irony in his mouth. After the initial enthusiasm of discussing his favourite topic had faded he realised how ridiculous the situation was. The very interests that had relegated him to a status just below something his father had scraped off his hand-made shoes were suddenly in hot demand. It had been the opportunity to fulfil a lifelong dream that had swayed him to take up the challenge instead of telling his father to shove it.
That fact in itself was troubling; it was exactly the sort of ploy his father, a master manipulator, would use to secure his help. It was possible that Mastema would take the position on Earth, along with all the credit, and laugh in his face. A slim chance was still better than none, though, and Kaarl knew how to increase his odds.
It was obvious the Lords knew squat about the modern world: the colossal jerk that was his father had already said as much. It was a shortcoming Kaarl could use. As long as the Lords grasped its potential and little else beyond the basics, the trip was as good as his. Kaarl cracked his knuckles and went to work.
As Mastema had predicted, Kaarl’s proposal was inspired and the parts he understood needed very little editing. During the week he had stopped in a few times to check on progress; not to micro-manage but to ensure he wouldn’t be left empty-handed come presentation time. On the whole, the thing had looked rather impressive. Whilst his faith in his apparently not entirely useless son’s ability was firm, one did not rise to the exalted ranks of the Board based on assumptions that everything was in order.
The fact that he and his fellow Lords had done exactly that after achieving their positions was the reason he was in such a dire situation to begin with. Mastema was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He would not make the same mistake twice if it could be avoided. He spent the morning before the meeting revising Kaarl’s work and for the most part was delighted with the final result.
The only part of the plan Mastema did not like was that it required Verin and Vetis, the twin sisters of Impatience and Corruption, to accompany Kaarl. It made sense in some ways; they had been to Earth before and could help Kaarl adapt to the Mortal realm. Their skills in manipulating Mortals would also prove invaluable. The main problem Mastema saw was the cost; Kaarl’s plan asked for three times the outlay that Abaddon had promised.
For Perdition to send a single Demon to Earth, a sacrifice of one hundred thousand souls was required. Whilst in the grand scheme of souls already claimed by Hell it was a relatively small number, anything that increased the deficit in favour of the Hated One was considered very costly indeed. Asking for three hundred thousand to be struck from the tally was audacious, to say the least. Kaarl convinced his father that for the plan to work it was necessary and Mastema could only hope it seemed a worthwhile investment to Lucifer.
He ordered Kaarl to join him at the meeting; he would be lost if any technical queries came up. If the need for the sisters to be sent was questioned, the boy could handle that as well. Mastema didn’t want to be begging for extra resources at a meeting where his life hinged on the outcome.
As Mastema entered the meeting room, Kaarl in tow, his eyes were drawn to the throne at the head of the table. It sat empty, but even so the sheer power of Lucifer, Light Bearer and Son of the Morning, surrounded it. Carved from the purest white marble and inlaid with golden depictions of his heroic deeds, it was a stark reminder of the importance of the meeting. Samael, poster child of the fuzzy underpants movement, saw Kaarl and laughed.
‘I didn’t know it was “bring your daughter to work day”, Mastema,’ he said.
The more sycophantic of the Lords joined in with him and Mastema strode up to the behemoth, oblivious to their mirth.
‘Ah, Samael, if only your intellect were as sharp as your wit. I see your proposal is a mere two pages.’
Samael glanced down at Mastema’s much thicker and rather more academic-looking document.
‘It also seems that the first one is a covering sheet. I’m going to hazard a guess that the second has “Kill everything” misspelled horribly in large letters and a crude crayon