Dilogy: Discussion with Satan (part 4)

Dilogy

Dil´o`gy    n.    1.    (Rhet.) An ambiguous speech; a figure in which a word is used an equivocal sense.   

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“Ultimately a hero is a man who would argue with the gods, and so awakens devils to contest his vision. The more a man can achieve, the more he may be certain that the devil will inhabit a part of his creation.”

 Norman Mailer

 Micheal Gilburt's dream is a discussion with Satan, to this point the mood of the discussion has changed, with Satan now in a state of anger.  Gilburt just sits and listens.  The bar area is dark, with just a faint outline of Satan, all but his blueish, illuminating eyes.
  "You see, you haven't got time.  No one has, time maybe an illusion but you must obey it.  There is no plotting a path, your path should already be made.  The con you all follow is the belief of that highest order, your goverments, your faith in a custodian who has deserted you. This subconscious power in which you have suppressed, that being your primal longing.  All to follow a leader who is a fool.  Which he owes..."  Satan points back at him self.  "Not just me..."  He then points at Gilburt.
  "He owes you, that crumbling fucking empire...Owes you!"
 Gilburt feeling quite nervous, hoping that this dream is not morphing into a nightmare.
 "And the sands of time are nearly all spent,"  Satan says, as opposite where Gilburt is sitting on his right hand side near the bar.  He sees a woman, it is Nemesis, she is standing at the bar, next to her are the sands of time,  her dress is one of a warrior, a sword is attached to her back angled across.  The outfit all black, tightly pressed leather clothing.  She stands looking at Gilburt.  A man walks past her, dressed in a suit, he looks bewildered.  He stands there, hair neatly cropped, the man looks in his late 30s or early 40s.  Nemesis still looking at Gilburt grins.  In seconds she unsheathes her sword and decapitates the man, a fountain of blood spurts upwards as the man's body collapses to the ground.  She calmingly picks up the head, holding it by the hair, it's startled dead look stares blankly at Gilburt.
  "What the fuck?" Gilburt says.
 Satan has a sip from his cocktail as Nemesis walks towards him, holding the severed head.
  "He didn't pay up," Satan says pointing in the direction of Nemesis, who is holding the man's head.  She stands by Satan's left side.
  "That's right, um, you do souls right?"  Gilburt says noticing the light within the bar area although dim, lifts the darkness that was prominent before.
  "No, not souls.  What is a soul?  It's thoughts, memories, ideas...You breath life into me, let me become..." Satan says looking at the abyss above him, the Art Nouveau styled ceiling no longer there, he looks back at Gilburt "...whole.  To live, to exist and I'll guide you from the darkness.  That's the trade, I need humanities imagination."
  "Right and if we don't deliver?" Gilburt says
  "You always do, you call I answer.  The question is do you always honor the deal, the payment?  Sometimes you don't then I send Nemesis after you, or myself..." Satan says smiling.  "But it's getting tiresome," 
  "Punishing humanity?"  Gilburt says
  "That's not my job, I don't punish.  But I eradicate gene lines, faulty memes, the slime of humanity, damn their history into nothing."
  "Evil doers?"
  "Evil?  Man is a flawed beast, your problem is your-self, as I showed you earlier.  It is extinction that will cleanse those flaws.  I accept that, just tinker with it, trying to keep you all afloat.  I'll clean the program now and again, flush out the irregularities, fulfill desires which, as I said you are entitled too, but it's not for free, not without a cost.  But I would never oppress you like a landlord, a bank, a pitiful goverment.  Never desert you.  Never let you down.  You taste the fruit that you indulge.  Why not?  It's here, it's yours!"
 The light in the bar returns, Nemesis is still standing at Satan's side, her leather clad skintight outfit is replaced by the cocktail dress she was wearing earlier, the severed head and bloodied decapitated body have gone.  In it's place are the patrons that were there before, chatting, laughing.
  "Who was he?  The dead guy?"  Gilburt says, feeling calmer.
  "An example, an aberration.  Got to greedy, that's ok.  But, he went too far, tried to play me.  Didn't honor the deal.  His wife will lose her mind, daughter will become a drug addict, the family wealth will dissipate into nothing. "
 "I understand,"
 "You see, as I said before, luck, and defining bad luck, effort, pain, stress...death are all interlinked.  You can't afford the luxury of time.  Nemesis controls that distribution, I focus on the details.  All of you, humanity, subconsciously are hustlers, that's kinda fascinating, this repression of that urge doesn't allow for the leaks into the consciousness.  You make a play, it's for your advantage, you want that object of desire, have it.  Unlock the subconscious, fuse it with the conscious and create your world.  That is the trick."  Satan gulps down the remainder of the Monkey Gland cocktail, he seems excited.
  "My favorite quote from Sun Tzu's The Art of War, 'know yourself and don't know the enemy, you win one and lose one, don't know your self or the enemy you lose every time, know your self and know the enemy you will never be imperiled in any battle' "
 "That's good, you wrote that right?"  Gilburt leaning back in his chair lifting a small glass of clear fluid.  He smells it.  "Tequila...fuck yes," he then takes a sip .
  "Yes I did, 3000 years ago in China, fantastic time.  It really was, I created Sun Tzu and the Art of War, wrote in down and left it for the generals at the time.  It mystified it's self through the centuries.  See the point is, the ones that make it, want it so bad, actually tap that subconsciousness of know thy self, but they flip a coin.  Rush into battle, win one, then lose one.  You see this all the time.  You wonder how someone got great? You think they put in 10,000 hours?  No, they are confident in that move.  They move quick..."  Satan using his hands, fans his fingers out.  "Like little Hawks, they watch for the one true moment and strike."
  "But they miss the long hauler truck coming in the opposite direction and then BANG!  Dead, with feathers everywhere,"  Gilburt says smiling, now in that state of drunkenness where he is seeing double, two lots of Satan and Nemesis.
 Satan turns and looks up at Nemesis who is leaning against him.
  "You know I am beginning to really like Micheal Gilburt,"  Satan lifts the Tequila shot glass and knocks it back.  "You like the Peyote juice mixed with Tequila, sweetened with the Damiana flower?"
  "Hell yeah, oh sorry is that an insult?  You know, hell, I mean it's your home, right?"  He says looking at his hands in wonder, moving them across his face as colors look pixelized, broken distorted.  In fact the whole environment looks distorted, Satan sits across from him, he is still clear and not distorted.
  "No Gilburt, this is my home, here."  He points around to the bar.  Gilburt turns his head to the right, despite the merging of colors and fragmented imagery, he sees a male and female patron having sex, the woman's skirt pulled up revealing her naked buttocks, a man thrusting from behind, leaning over her - clasping her breasts.  Their eyes closed in ecstasy.  Other patrons are also seen having sex, all in various positions.
  "An orgy!  Where is Nemesis?" Gilburt says
 "I don't think you could handle her, she is more like a prey mantis,"  Satan says smiling.
  Gilburt now looks like he is in a state of wonder, colors, the pixelated psychedelics, the orgy that is happening around him.
  "Now Micheal listen to me very carefully, this story, the idea for the novel and the script.  A stranger wakes up in an alleyway in New York City, is the fallen angel, later that night he is mugged and shot.  Near death, he is taken to a hospital.  The nurse, a somewhat tragic figure herself, attending him falls in love with this stranger who turns out to be..."
  "Satan," Gilburt says.
  "Correct.  It is the fall and rise.  The fluidity of the story is all yours, complete it.  That's it."
  "And the deal with you, do I sign anything?"
  "Already done Micheal, till next time...Remember what I said."

Micheal Gilburt awakes, looking down on him is his cat, it's eyes bore straight into his.
  "What a dream," he says looking at his watch, noting it's well after 9.00am
  "Fuck!  Slept in..."  Gilburt's cell phone rings.  He quickly rushes out of bed, that cat scurries away, he reached across to his bed sitter and picks up the phone.
  "Micheal, it's Jane Summers from Tigus Management, you sent us a synopsis three months ago and also three chapters of a book you wrote called The Fall and Rise of Helel, we also note that a partial script was also submitted.  We are very interested in meeting with you and discussing in depth this story.  Could we arrange a meeting for Tuesday this week at 12:00pm?"
 Gilburt pauses before saying anything, stunned.
 "Yes, yes that would be fine, do I need to bring anything?"
 "No, we have the file, but we just need to discuss some management arrangements with you on the day, also some of our producer contacts in the film industry want to attend the meeting."
 "Great! Ok, well...I'll see you then."
 "See you then Micheal, bye."
 Gilburt is in a state of excitement, trying to control his happiness, he wants to yell out.  This is his big break, what he always desired.  Quickly makes his way to the bathroom, he pauses and looks down at his cat which is sitting quietly licking it's paws.  The cat looks up and stares at Gilburt.
  "Don't worry I'll honor the deal," he says.

(c) Adrian Glass