by Greg Curtis
The Session
Greg Curtis
E-book Edition
July 2014
The Session.
The waiting room was typical of such places. Soft carpets, light coloured walls, leather couches and soothing music playing softly in the background. It was full of patients too when Lucifer walked in – but they quickly left. They took one look at him, paled a little and ran, and soon it became a stampede. That despite the fact that he'd done his best to look like one of the accursed monkeys. No horns, no tail, no burning hot bright red skin. Though perhaps the blackened marks in the carpet where his feet had been standing for too long were somewhat unusual. And if the truth be told the creaking of the floor under his weight might have worried them a little as well. Some of them screamed as they ran, but they didn't let that stop them running and he didn't let it bother him – too much.
Lucifer tried not to take their reactions to heart. After thousands of years in the pit he was familiar with the behaviour after all. And yet a part of him still cringed at the sight of their fear. And that damned voice was still there in his ear whispering to him that he was ugly. That he wasn't good enough. That he smelled. Or in some other way that he couldn't quite define he just wasn't quite good enough. That made him angry.
Prince of darkness, ruler of the underworld, corrupter of innocence, master of evil, and he wasn't good enough for these accursed monkeys! How dare they!
The very idea of it made him more than angry and he had to control himself. It would have been so easy to simply incinerate this entire place. And then to go onto the rest of the world. However those above would be upset with him if he did that. They liked the monkeys. So he controlled his temper and withheld his wrath. Still he couldn't stop himself from snarling a tiny bit and maybe letting a small whiff of smoke escape his nostrils. But in the end that was why he was here. Not the rage but rather the reason for it.
He was worried that it was compromising his work. That it was causing him to go too gently on the souls in his care. That he wasn't properly tormenting them. Burning the sin out of them. And that could not happen. He was one fallen angel who took pride in his work.
His friends – not that he had friends, just a few pets that he kept around for amusement – had all said he should try therapy, and reluctantly he'd eventually accepted that they might be right. It was wrong for him to think that he was anything less than what he was. And it was absolutely intolerable that he should even think of easing up on the souls in his charge.
So he'd agreed, spiriting quietly out of Hell for a few hours – the other fallen could run things for a while – and looking for someone to talk to. Someone who understood these strange feelings. Who could explain why it should bother him that these pitiful creatures should not like him. Who could fix it. Tell him how to make these monkeys like him. And this guy was supposed to be the best. Certainly he was the most highly qualified of his peers. And a man with that many degrees had to know something – didn't he? Besides who but a monkey would understand other monkeys?
Lucifer walked up to the counter and smiled perfunctorily at the receptionist who was trapped in the room. To reach the door she'd have to run past him, and she was too terrified to do that. So instead she was trying to hide under the desk and whispering frantic prayers. A lot of good they'd do her. Prayers had to be genuine, not spoken out of fear. Not when her life was so full of sin. Hell was filled with souls who'd tried to recant all their sins and beg for mercy on their deathbeds. Too little, too late. However she'd find that out for herself in due course.
He asked her the obvious question. “Through there?” Lucifer indicated the hallway beyond the reception desk.
She shrieked a little, gulped and then swallowed her terror before nodding, white faced.
“Thank you my dear.” He always thought it best to be polite. After all there was no call for rudeness. In fact he hated it, and he punished accordingly. There was no cursing in Hell. “I'll be seeing you in due course I expect.”
He marched past her desk and through the short hallway leading to the doctor's office, untroubled by the sudden sound of breaking glass and screaming behind him. He knew what it was and he'd half expected it. It was the receptionist leaping out of the second story window. The screams were from when she hit the ground too hard. She would live or she would die, it really didn't matter. These humans were so ephemeral, just like the flowers on her desk which were already turning brown because of his presence. And if she died he guessed he would be seeing her again a little sooner than expected. Breaking her marriage vows by spending her nights with another man was a sin after all, and that was his bailiwick. She would discover that when she arrived.
For the moment though Lucifer ignored her. He had a therapist to see.
The sign on the door said Doctor Clemmons, a sure sign that he'd found his man, and so he commanded the door to open. It did of course, the handle turning and the door swinging inwards immediately without his touching it. He might be a fallen angel but he was still an angel and all doors were open to him. Which was fortunate as it meant that he didn't have to explain why a door had spontaneously burst into flame.
Inside he immediately spotted the doctor and was unimpressed. He seemed quite insipid for his people. Not physically powerful as would be an athlete. And there was nothing in his face that spoke of great intelligence. Maybe humans would be more impressed by him, Lucifer could never really be sure of such things. But sticking a slightly more evolved monkey in a white coat and calling him a doctor didn't do a lot for him. Still this man was the most highly educated of his peers and according to everyone he'd spoken to, the smartest human around. Looks could be deceiving.
At least there was no sin about him, and Lucifer was good at spotting sin. The doctor had some failings. A bit of pride, a few impure thoughts and a little avarice, but nothing so great as to send him to the pit when he passed. That was a good thing. Though what help he could offer was questionable, this soul would do what he could to help him.
Lucifer entered the room and made a throat clearing sound to attract the doctor's attention as he was bent over his desk reading some papers. And then when that wasn't enough to get the man to turn around and spot him he tried something more traditional.
“Doctor?” That was finally enough as the doctor started, swivelled around in his chair and caught sight of him standing just inside the doorway to his office.
“Ahh Mr. Cypher, I was expecting you.” The doctor smiled at him as if everything was normal and he was just another patient. That was one step up from the others Lucifer thought. The doctor wasn't running. Clearly he was more evolved than his fellow humans. Nevertheless he also had to be lying. He couldn't possibly have been expecting to see him when Lucifer had only just put the information in his computer a second or three before. Actually when he'd walked up to the receptionist's desk. He couldn't have read all that in the few seconds it had taken him to walk up the hallway. Could he? And what was with the Mr. Cypher?
“Now is it Lou or Louis?” The doctor stood up, came around from behind his desk and thrust out an arm at him expecting him to shake it. Of course since that would have incinerated the doctor on the spot Lucifer didn't take it. Not before his session had at least begun. That would be a waste. But at least he understood the Mr. Cypher.
Lou Cypher. It was amazing how fragile these mortal minds were. How they simply refused to see the truth even when it was right in front of them. He understood the reaction. Most new arrivals in the pit had a similar one as they tried desperately to deny where they were. It was human he supposed. But it did not seem a good thing in a doctor he'd come to for advice.
“It's Lucifer.”
“Oh.” The doctor made a small noise of surprise, grabbed a notepad and p
en from his desk and started scribbling in it. It was then that Lucifer started to wonder if he'd made a mistake in coming to see him. The man didn't react when the Prince of Darkness walked into his office, but started taking notes when he refused to shake his hand or contract his name into whatever twisted mess he'd made it. There was something strange at work here. But still the man was an expert in his field. Actually he was the expert. Something the wall full of degrees behind him attested to.
“Please take a seat Mr. Cypher.”
Lucifer did just that, a little cautiously as he was worried the chair would collapse under his weight – especially if he let too much of his influence out and corrupted it. But it held for the moment and he slowly relaxed back into its thick cushions, annoyed by the way it didn't fit him, while the doctor sat down opposite him.
“Now tell me how it is that you think I can help you.”
“People don't like me.” Lucifer went straight to the heart of the matter. After all his time was precious, he had work to do, souls to torment. And he was never one to waste time on silly words. That dislike was the core of his pain. What he still didn't understand was why it should matter. He was the prince of darkness. People didn't have to like him. Fear was good enough. Obedience was better. Or at least it always had been. But he was beginning to suspect that these monkeys had done something to him. Infected him with their strange ideas. And he didn't like it. He wanted it gone.
“Really now Mr. Cypher.” The doctor stared at him from his seat opposite with a knowing look. “You seem like a very personable chap. Is it that they don't like you? Or just that you think they don't like you?”
“No they don't like me. I walked into your waiting room and everyone fled. Your receptionist leapt out of a window to get away from me.” Lucifer figured it was best to get things out in the open as quickly as possible. The sooner the doctor understood his problem, the sooner he could come up with a solution. A way of making people like him. Of course that might be difficult when he spent his days torturing them, but there was always hope. And after all it was just a job. It wasn't as if he did it for amusement. The sinful had to be punished. That was clear enough. Even the wicked should understand that. But already he suspected that the doctor wouldn't.
“Did she now?” The doctor's face showed a touch of professional concern. “I'm so sorry about that Mr. Cypher. But you mustn't blame yourself. Sally is a recovering alcoholic. I hired her because I thought she could identify with the patients, but obviously the position was too much for her.”
“And you needn't worry either. I'm sure she's all right. I had special automotive glass windows installed which shatter rather than break and so won't cut people. And the ground outside the building is planted with thick shrubs to break a fall. You'd be amazed how often this happens. One in every nine and a half thousand patients will in fact panic and do something foolish and even life threatening when faced with therapy.”
“Security will no doubt tend to her and call an ambulance if it's needed. And for the moment you are the one that needs my help. So tell me – why do you think people don't like you? What is it about you that causes them to dislike you?”
Something seemed wrong with the doctor's attitude Lucifer thought. Perhaps he wasn't the most socially aware as these monkeys claimed, but still it seemed strange that the doctor should so easily dismiss his receptionist's fall. On the other hand at least his session wasn't going to be interrupted by such a trivial matter.
“Well I do punish them.”
“Punish them?”
“You know torture them. Burn them alive – though not really alive of course – for eternity. Inflict other torments and suffering. Diseases, beatings, amputations, maulings, broken bones – the usual stuff.” The doctor's eyes widened a little and Lucifer thought he was finally starting to understand. It was about time. But of course the doctor just started making some more notes in his notepad instead of giving him an answer and it was some time before he said anything again. He really seemed to like writing things down.
“And why would you do that?”
Lucifer stared at the doctor for a moment, confused by his question. By his lack of understanding. Did the man not see him at all? Could that be? After all he might have hidden the most obvious signs of his demonic nature, but he hadn't exactly come in disguise. Everyone else knew what he was. They knew to run and hide. Something was wrong here.
“Because it's my job. The wicked and the sinful must be punished. Lakes of fire, eternal damnation all that stuff. Corruption must be burnt out and Hell is where that happens. It's all in your holy books.”
“Ahh!” The doctor nodded thoughtfully at him and scribbled something else on his notepad.
“Ahh?”
“Religion. Powerful psychological influence on people. It impacts on people in ways they couldn't possibly understand. Even those who don't believe. Or say they don't believe.” He chuckled a little to himself. “I wrote a short dissertation on it some time ago. It was quite well received even if I do say so myself.”
“Anyway you were saying? Something about hell and punishing the wicked?”
Lucifer stared at the doctor for a moment, wondering just what was going on with the man. It was as though he not only couldn't see him but he also didn't even understand what he was telling him. Maybe it was time to be completely blunt.
“Yes Doctor. That's what I do. I am the devil after all. The Prince of the Underworld. Ruler of Hell. Satan.”
“So you believe that punishing the wicked is your job?”
“Yes.” Of course he did since it was his job. Did the man understand nothing?
“And you feel that people don't like you because of that?”
“I know they don't like me Doctor. They turn pale and recoil when they see me. They run away screaming. They jump out of windows.” And that was the source of his problem. No one liked it when people ran from them. Did they?
“And how does that make you feel?”
For a moment Lucifer almost couldn't believe the doctor had asked the question – it was just so simply ridiculous. But he had. And then when he realised he had Lucifer lost a little of his self-control. The doctor's desk abruptly collapsed because the wood in it had rotted away to nothing. The pictures on the wall including his degrees blackened. And the doctor's own chair buckled as the steel frame gave way to metal fatigue, spilling him onto the carpet. Corruption was a powerful force if it wasn't controlled.
Immediately after that the doctor rolled over onto his hands and knees, pushed himself up until he was standing and surveyed the room in horror.
“Good grief! The maintenance in this place is truly shocking!”
It was then that Lucifer knew he had a problem – or that one of them did. The doctor not only couldn't see him as he was he couldn't even make sense of what he did. The doctor was completely blind to him – or utterly stupid despite his endless degrees. And he had come to ask for his help! One of them was in trouble.
“Now Mr. Cypher – Lou – you were telling me how it felt to be rejected.” The doctor pulled out the chair from behind his desk and sat down facing him again. It was a cheap plastic office chair and it would be only too easy to melt it – and perhaps Doctor Clemmons with it. But Lucifer knew that that would be frowned on. Those above accepted accidents, or at least they didn't complain too loudly when they happened, but they did tend to get upset when he deliberately killed someone. And maybe he thought, this was something to do with them. The doctor's complete blindness to him couldn't be natural and the politics between the realms were always complicated. So maybe if they had planned this, it might be helpful to find out a little bit more. To find out what game they were playing. Lucifer decided to play along for a while.
“Not good Doctor.”
“And how long has this been happening?”
“Twenty thousand years – give or take.”
“Ahh – it feels like forever doesn't it?” The doctor sighed knowingly and made a few
more notes in his pad. “The pain of these things stays with you long after the people are gone and forgotten. I just wish more people understood that.”
“And tell me Lou, do you think that has something to do with your phobia about touch?”
“My phobia about touch?!” For a moment Lucifer didn't understand. He didn't have a phobia. He created phobias in others. The doctor was heading off into some strange alternate reality. Again.
“Well yes. You think I didn't notice when you couldn't shake my hand? It was very obvious. And unfortunately very predictable. You have a problem being intimate with people. You're afraid of being rejected and that manifests itself it in these irrational fears.”
“Irrational fears?”
“Yes. Unfortunately it's very common.” The doctor ran on completely ignoring Lucifer's very obvious disbelief. “Something like five and a half percent of people will have some form of phobia about touch, though most just struggle with it and pretend it isn't there. But the good news is that it's very treatable. Some cognitive therapy and an anti-anxiety medication should do the trick.”
