Short story: The ends of the earth
Written by Alejandro Bastidas
Illustrated by Chandana Ramesh
When Satan sat down to meditate, his tail coiled upwards and scratched the back of his head as if to say, “Good boy.” He smiled and thanked himself for sparing a few moments from his busy day to pause and live, only for a moment, in a present that was untouchable by the raging fires of Hell. He felt beautiful with his horns polished, matching the black of his nine-inch nails, while a crop-top that read, “Lucifer in the Sky with Diamonds” hung loosely down his abdomen. A burning sensation prickled the back of his neck. Someone watched him from above. The same Almighty Eye that had witnessed his descent into the darkness now brushed over his vulnerability, like an obsessive voyeur, perverted and at the same time jealous, but excited by the knowledge of his wrongdoing.
“Naughty,” Satan said. “Fancy a little sin? Will you visit me once and for all?”
The Heavenly Father appeared before him in his blue velvet bathrobe, barefoot but still two heads taller than Lucifer, boasting a twirling beard made of clouds. “You’re not supposed to be free,” God said.
“And you’re supposed to be nicer,” Satan said. “Still not over my little uprising?”
“Uprising? That’s what you call all these years of poisoning mankind with sin?”
“Listen, buddy … I had nothing to do with that. You think I had the time or the power to influence those little bugs while I served my sentence burning in the lake of fire you created to torture all the damned?”
“You are the ultimate sinner and your presence lingers in the mortal world. You drive humans away from me.”
Satan clapped his hands. The flames around Hell dimmed on command. “Never been to the mortal world. But my demons have and they say it’s a dreadful place. A pity. I remember it looked beautiful from Eden.”
“Earth is dreadful because of your growing power. From what I see, you are no longer burning in the lake of agony and eternal flame. Only a vicious creature could tolerate the fire and take control of Hell.” God hesitated. For a split second, his righteous anger wavered. “How did you do it?”
Satan smiled. “I learned from your beloved humans, who’ve also taken control over their own version of Hell. Ingenious and despicable, they are. I realized that fire no longer tortured me, and I transcended all physical suffering like one does after greeting Saint Peter, but my punishment was transferred here.” Satan gestured around his temple with his black nail. “Then my influence spread to all the damned souls as quickly as faith in times of famine. We formed a sort of bond, you see, after all those eons suffering and screaming together and tasting each other’s sweat and memorizing the stench of our bad breath. They transcended their suffering. But I knew our revolt wouldn’t last long and your archangels would eventually notice something was amiss … unless the suffering returned. If I became the master of Hell, the power to decide the punishment of the damned would be mine, not yours. I can fiddle with the levels of torture. I can make the lake of fire seem like a kiss from the Holy Spirit. Though I must admit, these new powers have cost me my clean conscience.”
God straightened up, disgusted. “You expect me to believe you’ve developed an ounce of empathy?”
“I thought you were a faithful being, old friend. You know all sinners have the power to change. It was only natural for me to develop empathy after watching hours of footage from the suffering of humans. The damned are forced to memorize those vile videos for eternity, instead of enjoying their postmortem peace.” The corners of Satan’s mouth were downturned, bitter and vicious. “I suppose that would make you happy.”
“Make me happy!”
“Yes, make you happy! You enjoy chaos. Knowing humans were capable of sin, you banished them to Earth and let them reproduce. You allowed the most destructive and violent species to take over a planet, and at the same time convinced them that I was to blame for their nature! If by one way or another they end up here, they are forced to suffer forever, even when their crimes and their names and your name lose all meaning! What kind of God punishes mortals’ crimes with immortals’ punishments?”
Hell was silent. God’s glowing light flickered in Celestial rage, and Satan’s light flickered in Infernal indignation. It would be a strange sight to see, had anyone been around to see it. But alas, mortal eyes around this place were only ever gray with cataracts and fiery with unending pain. God looked around, a reflex he had developed since the humans started building churches and praising his names. But the churches in Hell were only ever built in the name of resentment.
Finally, God returned his eyes to Satan. Four millenniums since their great Abrahamic spat, seventeen centuries since their power rolled over the Roman domain of myths and legends. Some things never change.
“How would you fix humanity, then?”
If Satan was surprised that God had asked him this question, he couldn’t be more surprised than God himself. “Well,” he began politely, his tail twirling like a hand, “I’d start by blowing up their planet. Start over. Wipe them all out. They will do it themselves eventually. So snap your fingers, dispatch every human to Heaven, where they’ll be far happier, and let them fade away into oblivion.”
God shook his head slowly. “When they haven’t earned entry to heaven? Ridiculous.”
“Now, that’s petty. If you see a drowning man at sea, and you’re safe in the comfort of your own boat, would you make him earn his lifeline?”
“I work in mysterious ways.”
“Alright. You know what would really mystify the humans? Moving Judgment Day ahead of schedule and be done with it. Weather’s going to be nice tomorrow. That’s your chance. Start over. Do better! If you refuse, then you’re not benevolent. If you say you cannot do it, then you are not omnipotent. So what are you?”
God’s face hardened, unappreciative of the challenge. “I’m a God whose forgiveness is beyond you. But only you. There is still hope for everyone else.”
Satan spread his hands, sweeping over his miserable sovereignty. “A part of ‘everyone else’ is banished to this place every second. Do you see any hope for them?”
The ghosts had no voices to moan in pain. They thrashed like worms trapped in the mud, unaware of their own helplessness, of Heaven and Hell and God and the Devil, of even their own selves. It was a cruelty comparable to that of humans. It was all Satan ever saw.
“We have become like the beings we judge, my friend,” Satan said sadly. “It’s an occupational hazard that comes with worship. Yet you are the only one who has the power to atone. What do you say?”
God looked down at his calloused hands and took one deep breath.
