Strain

Seated at his desk, legs propped up, eyes closed, he listened intently, head bobbing rapturously to the dulcet tones of a soprano. He frowned as he heard the door creak. "Ssssh!" he said, raising a hand, then waving it as gracefully as a conductor.

His assistant, a horribly disfigured woman, stopped in her tracks, breath bated, folder pressed tightly to her lone breast.

"She brings such beauty to them. What a waste. None of the pathetic wretches deserves it." He opened his eyes and snapped his fingers, and the music ceased. The sound of mourning was now prevalent in the background. "A voice like that - and she didn't even have to sell her soul. I want a complete file on her. She must be corrupted, if she hasn't been already. I want her here."

"I'm glad to see you happy, Master," said the woman humbly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said, a trace of resentment in his tone.

"Here are the reports."

"You're looking lovely today, Puta. I'd say you were an angel if I didn't know better."

She was stung by the sarcasm. She turned and paused.

"What is it?" said the Master, irked. "Let me guess - the lawyers are demanding a hearing. Ignore them. That's the point. They'll never have that opportunity again."

"No, Master," she said timidly, avoiding his gaze.

"The politicians? Let them compromise each other for eternity, as they deserve."

Puta lowered her head.

"What?" said the Master impatiently.

"I don't know. Maybe it's nothing."

"No doubt it is."

She sought his fiery eyes. "Lately I've been hearing some of the guests...."

"Guests? This isn't the Hotel California." He paused, eyes afire. "I want a file on them too."

She looked away and blurted: "They're happy here."

He stood motionless, absorbing the comment. "Nonsense. The only one happy here is me."

Her look evolved to one of compassion. "Are you happy, Master?"

His face became even more severe. "Are you analyzing me again?"

She coiled, afraid. "I love you."

He tittered. "That is so you, Puta. Damnation imitates life. You will love me in vain as you did the losers you let defile you."

She bowed her head sorrowfully.

"I'll be out in a minute," he said.

"Go in disguise. They wouldn't dare let you know they're happy."

He took a moment to muse. "Clever little parasites. It's not Adolf, is it?"

"No, although he did smile when he heard the partial birth ban was vetoed again. He...."

The Master threw his hands into the air. "If I ever find out who's responsible for these leaks...!" he raged, twisting in place.

Puta shrank and trembled.

"It isn't you, is it?"

She flinched as if she'd been slapped. "I would never betray you. As you say, I betray only myself."

"True." He paused, reflecting. "But if it's not Adolf.... All these years and this is the first I've heard of this."

"Adolf was happy only for that moment."

"That is a moment too many."

"He says his ideas live."

The Master smirked. "His ideas, are they? You'd think he'd be a little humbled by now. Then again, you'd think someone so thoroughly evil would be the one who enjoyed his damnation."

"I think he really believes he was right, that he's the victim."

The Master studied her with what was almost admiration. "You used those brains for debauchery and crime when you could have done so much more damage in psychiatry."

Her pupils contracted. "I'm so ashamed."

"I'm so glad. Get out. Wait. Where shall I look?"

"Everywhere. It started with new arrivals, but it's a trend now."

He was beside himself. "A new strain. Leave it to the maggots to find a way. Imagine - souls at home in hell. It takes all kinds...."

"Your work has become so good you've created a master race in your own image."

"Get out."

He plopped at his desk, sullen. Soon he was energized. It'd been so long since he'd felt challenged. He went out into his kingdom. His face brightened at the sights and sounds of agony. He sensed, however, that some of the cries were forced, not genuine. How had he missed it? It

seemed so obvious. How long had it been occurring?

Too full of yourself, maybe, he thought; then, why shouldn't you be?

"I don't want to be disturbed," he told Puta, returning to his office.

He sat atop his desk in the lotus position, eyes closed. His meditation was brief. He came out of it smiling, and pulled a red speaker phone from a drawer. Suddenly he was hesitant, glee evaporating, ego barking. Finally, grumbling, he depressed the lone dial. There were several rings. He paced.

"I know you're there. You're doing this on purpose. Pick up."

The phone continued to ring.

"Maybe Nietsche's finally right."

He shuddered at the thought, eyes closing tightly. From the kingdom one cry of agony rose above all the others. "There," said the Master bitterly; "kraut." His reverie was interrupted as the phone was answered. It was not Whom he'd expected, however. "You? How dare you?

Put Him on."

There was a pause, then the soothing voice greeted him. He fought to steel himself, to keep from sighing.

"'Heads'? 'Tails.'"

"You need no introduction," said He. "And I asked you not to call me that. We are not opposite sides of the same coin. Don't believe

everything you read. Some of them get so confused."

The Master laughed. "That's what most of them believe now. And you know how I love to tweak You. You're as easy as ever."

Now there was grumbling.

"Don't pout. We're even. You had me wait - and you let that lackey answer."

"I was on call. Guess I'll have to get one of those answering machines."

The Master roared. "And they always portray you as humorless. They never see your irony."

"To what do I owe this honor? It's been so long."

The Master explained, eliciting a weary sigh from his listener.

"And I was hoping you were finally coming back home."

"Never. I exercise the freedom You gave us all. You could end the evil in an instant if You wanted to."

"It would be meaningless unless it was eschewed willingly."

"Bull. You love it. You're a closet pervert. We're all here for Your amusement, to bring You pleasure vicariously while You make a pretense of virtue."

"Then why bother to call?"

"Just to let You know I've been on to You from the beginning. How ridiculous and pointless it all is."

"You'd rather not have been?"

"I'd rather have been first. There wouldn't be the hypocrisy. All I live for is to torment You."

"Come home, son. I miss you."

"When I'm done You will come to me. They're deserting You in droves.

It isn't even a challenge any more."

"You have your pollsters, I have mine."

"You're in denial, which makes You even more vulnerable."

"Enough. What do you want?"

He paused. How he hated to ask for anything. "I need a place to send these new reprobates, and I can't think of a better one than Yours."

There was a pause. "You must be desperate to try so obvious a ploy."

"I'm not trying to infilitrate - yet. First I must corrupt the entire world."

"You've proven you can't be trusted."

"Those aren't the words of One who supposedly loves all."

"I will not risk subjecting the poor souls to the temptations they overcame in life."

"Half of them don't belong there."

"Nonsense. Our standards have never wavered. What's the point of this

conversation? You know what to do. You...."

This time the pause was pronounced.

"Are you lonely, son?"

The Master scoffed. "I called to brag."

"Come back. I love you."

"You love too many, that's Your problem. You're nothing but a glorified porn queen. Eventually they'll all be mine. It's getting easier all the time. They believe in corruption. It's real to them, not an abstraction like you are."

"One day you will see the light. Goodbye, son."

The Master suppressed a groan until the line was dead. He plopped into his chair, propped his elbows on the desk, and put his head in his hands. Suddenly he sensed another presence. Puta was in the room, gazing at him compassionately.

"Get out!"

She fell against the door, groaning. "Let me love you."

He raised a hand and her face and body became even more hideous. She fled bawling.

Soon he went out into his kingdom. He raised his arms, and all punishment ceased. Some souls continued to groan. Those would be his "volunteers."

"The end is near," he said through the profound stillness. "Now comes the final stage. I need an army to infiltrate heaven, to corrupt it as you did earth. Soon all will be one in eternal torment. Those I've chosen will have a special place. You know who you are. Follow me."

He led the animated horde into light. Saint Peter, old, withered, was asleep at the gate. The Master picked the lock, and corrupters poured through. Some were hesitant.

"Is it not suffering you love?" said the Master, challenging them.

Only a handful remained reluctant. They were unable to flee, however.

As they entered, they began accusing each other of betrayal. The Master closed the gate behind them. Saint Peter morphed into Puta, who wept.

The Master laughed at her. The mock heaven was sealed. Soon there was pounding on the walls, and the rise of the collective, agonized cry of the damned. It was music to the Master's ears.