Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen)

by Babbitt, Aaron

  “Is it possible that what is speaking to you is your computer?” Marla asked, measuredly.

  “I have never seen anything like this. For my computer to have sentience, it would have almost had to contract a virus with the sole purpose of problem-solving and adaptation. I’ve never installed any kind of program that would’ve allowed for this. And I use the word ‘sentience’ with some reservation. If this is the computer, and not some other person, then what I’ve seen leads me to believe that it has the capability to assess very human emotions and, at the very least, compare them to previous emotions, while factoring consequences and the desired effects.”

  Marla laid her hand on Elizabeth’s and smiled, warmly, “Isn’t that the nature of problem solving?”

  Elizabeth smiled, too, and nodded. “Yes, if all of those emotions and desired effects could be quantified. But how do you assign love a variable? What kind of computer code would account for the supernatural abilities of prophets and demons? How would it comprehend actions and powers that transcend logic and reason? Whatever this is has expressed compassion and a need to see to my well-being. I mean, I know computers are problem solvers, but this is far beyond standard operating procedures. We’re not talking about how this computer could run more efficiently; we’re talking about how this computer can run my life more efficiently.”

  Marla looked contemplative. “Well, I wish there were something I could do, but I don’t know that much about computers.”

  Elizabeth pulled out her cell phone and contemplated calling Jeremiah again. After a moment, she decided that the demon would only respond the way he already had, by pushing it back on her. No, she would have to do this on her own. But it would take so long to determine the origin of this problem, and, by that time, someone could use her computer against the compound.

  Liz shook her head in frustration. “I need to determine whether or not this computer is thinking like it’s alive. And I need to do it very soon, or the mansion could be in jeopardy. I don’t have any idea how I’m going to do it.”

  ***

  “You’d better get your scrawny ass over here, and bring me a beer,” a gruff voice from beyond Alex’s comprehension called. It sounded distorted, and there was an undertone to it that sent shivers up Alex’s spine.

  Shapes all around him were coming into focus, but he couldn’t tell where he was, and, what was worse, he couldn’t see Matt.

  “Boy!” the voice thundered again, this time clearer. It was deep, and ominous. “If I have to come get you,” the voice continued, “you’re going to have a date with my belt.”

  Alex could begin to see what looked to be the inside of a house. He could see an old recliner that revealed stuffing through tears in the fabric. Next to the recliner, there was a folding metal TV tray, with a half-finished TV dinner. There was a television, playing something that Alex couldn’t hear. A lamp lay on its side on the ground. There were stains in the carpet of different hues and sizes. And on a drab gray couch, that showed much the same wear as the recliner, lay a small boy, maybe eight or ten. He had light brown hair and a small frame. He wore a plain blue shirt, and he was sporting cut-off jean shorts. He was curled up, watching whatever was on the television. Upon closer inspection, Alex could see that the boy had a black eye. The child got up slowly and shuffled to another room.

  Alex followed the boy into the kitchen and toward the refrigerator. The boy seemed to be nursing his right arm, and he cringed a little as he tugged on the door. Alex already knew what this was. He feared what he was going to see, but he knew it had to be important, or he wouldn’t be here.

  The boy closed the fridge and walked back toward the living room, when he was met by the assumed owner of the gruff voice. The man had a belt in his hand. He grabbed the boy by the shirt and lifted him off the ground.

  “You don’t seem to understand,” the words were partially slurred, “that when I tell you to do something, you do it immediately.”

  There was real fear in the kid’s eyes. He held out the beer and whimpered, “I was bringing it to you.”

  The belt slapped the boy across the face, and the bottle fell to the ground, shattering. Roaring in frustration, the man threw the child to the floor after it. The kid screamed. And as the man pulled the boy up off the floor by his hair, Alex could see blood on the ground and in the boy’s palms.

  “What are you doing?” Alex yelled, but no one responded. “Leave him alone!” Again, there was no response.

  The boy was pulled into the living room and thrown onto the couch.

  “I wish,” the man said as he stood over the boy, “that God hadn’t given me such a stupid son.”

  The belt struck the boy with a sickening snap, and then again, and again.

  The child cried, “Daddy, please...”

  The man stopped. He looked kind of perplexed. He stared at the weeping, bleeding boy for more than a minute.

  “Matt, I really do love you, Son. But you’ve got to learn respect.”

  “Okay, Dad,” the boy sobbed.

  The man smiled, and he bent down and kissed the boy on the forehead. The boy calmed a little from the action. But Matt’s father just stared deeply into his son’s eyes. After a moment of contemplation, he kissed the boy on the mouth. Alex saw the man’s hand go into the boy’s shorts, and Alex could take no more. He looked away, and the scene faded from him.

  ***

  Elizabeth was looking at her computer again. She couldn’t pull herself away from the screen. She knew that there had to be answers here, somewhere. Over the intercom, a voice told her that someone had come to the mansion to see her.

  Not recalling any appointments, she walked over to the intercom and asked, “Who?”

  “Abigail Martin,” was the response.

  Elizabeth’s heart jumped. She hadn’t seen Abbie in over two years. She rushed out of the room and flew through the hallway and down the stairs. In the foyer stood Abbie. Elizabeth rushed up and embraced the prophet.

  After a moment, Elizabeth asked, “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  Abbie looked confused. “You sent me a message.”

  Now, it was Liz’s turn to look confused. “I sent you a message?”

  “Yes,” Abbie verified as she pulled out a cell phone. “A text message. It says, ‘I need to determine whether this computer is thinking like it’s alive. And I need to do it very soon, or the mansion could be in jeopardy.’ It sounded like an intriguing emergency, so I came as soon as I got it.”

  “I didn’t send that,” Elizabeth replied, furrowing her eyebrows.

  “It’s from your phone,” Abbie indicated the screen of her own phone to show the origin of the message. “It’s curious that I would get this message if it were not true.”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, “it’s true, but I didn’t call you.”

  “Well,” Abbie decided, “I suppose, whatever the reason for me knowing, it’s a good thing that I’m here. Let’s go look at that computer.”

  “Abbie, I’m sorry that you had to come all the way out here. If I sent that to you, I didn’t mean to. I don’t think this is your area of expertise.”

  Abbie smiled, “The computer seems to be thinking like it’s alive, right? If a potentially thinking mind isn’t my area of expertise, I don’t know what is.” She peered over Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Jeremiah still has that gaudy portrait, I see. A demon dressed in crusader’s attire.... It’s a little tactless, if you ask me.”

  Liz laughed. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Let’s go look at that computer,” Abbie repeated.

  Elizabeth nodded, “Okay.”

  They ascended the stairs, and Abbie asked Elizabeth how she was doing, cooped up in this huge mansion. They talked for a little while about the stress of trying to bring order to disorder and the frustration of working for a demon. Abbie informed Liz that Matt and Alex had come to see her earlier in the day. At the mention of Alex’s name, Elizabeth looked away.

  “What’s the
matter?”

  “I just don’t have the faith in Alex that everyone else seems to have.”

  “Everyone?” Abbie said. “To my knowledge, Jeremiah seems to have the most faith. I know the boy has it in him to be what we have needed, but it remains to be seen if he has the motivation.”

  “He’s just so sure of himself,” Elizabeth complained. She walked near her computer.

  “Really?” Abbie retorted. "That isn’t the impression I get at all. I think that he’s very lost in a brand new world. If he has the force of will to present the façade of assuredness, let’s allow him to hold onto that.” She looked at the computer. “So this is the little devil that’s been causing all the ruckus? Let’s take a look.”

  Abbie closed her eyes and placed her hands near the monitor. After about a minute, she moved her hands to the keyboard, and then to the hard drive. There she stopped and looked at Elizabeth.

  “There is an anomaly here,” she told Liz. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

  “Is my computer alive?”

  “Not as such,” Abbie observed. “But it does seem to be thinking.”

  “Thinking? Like processing?”

  “No. Thinking like thinking.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Abbie thought for a moment. “This is your personal computer, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You spend a lot of time on it, correct?”

  “Well, yeah, but I still don’t understand--”

  “Somehow,” Abbie interrupted, “you got a message to me, even though you had no intention of doing so. Through some form of technology, you told me you were in need.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, “Abbie, you’re not suggesting...”

  “You are a prophet, Liz. We knew that your powers would begin manifesting soon.”

  “But how?”

  Abbie breathed deeply. “I doubt that I can fully explain. I can hypothesize that, because you are so connected to technology, technology has become sympathetic to you.”

  Elizabeth pointed at the computer. “It claims it’s alive.”

  Abbie shrugged. “Maybe it is. However, it’s definitely not alive in the way you and I are.”

  At that moment, Abbie’s phone rang.

  “Ah,” she groaned. “Now what?” She looked at the caller ID and shot Elizabeth a curious glance. “This is Abbie,” she said. After a silence, she stated, “Jeremiah, I was just telling Elizabeth how ugly you look in chain mail.” She paused again and smiled at Elizabeth, who couldn’t help but smile back. Then, Abbie’s face contorted. “What?”

  She walked out of the computer lab and moved toward the stairs. Elizabeth, sensing distress, followed her. Abbie was descending the stairs quickly. “How long ago were they found like that?” she asked the demon. “Damn it, Jeremiah, I told you not to let Matt go with him, that it wasn’t time yet.... This is your show. How can you say you don’t have any control?” By this time, she had reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth yelled at her. Her heart had leapt into her throat when Abbie indicated something had happened to Matt and Alex.

  Abbie said, “Hold on,” to the phone. She turned back to Elizabeth. “I’ve got to go,” she explained. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong, Abbie?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she answered honestly. She put the phone back to her ear and headed for the door.

  ***

  Alex had been accustomed to waking up after he could no longer see, but this time was different. He felt like he was in for quite a ride with this vision. He was in a different place. It looked to be a high school gymnasium, and there was a crowd of people standing in the middle of the floor, shouting and cheering. Alex moved closer to the crowd.

  He could hear one boy, above the murmur of the mob of teenagers, yelling something.

  “Fucking faggot!” he screamed.

  It was surreal how the crowd parted for Alex. A wall of people stood aside, like a door, and filled in behind him. It gave him a better view, but it trapped him near the action.

  There was a boy standing in the middle of the crowd, looking very scared. There was no doubt about it. It was Matt. He was younger and much smaller than the Matt whom Alex knew, but it was Matt. He looked like he was going to cry. His eyes were scanning the crowd. Alex wondered what he hoped to find. A way out? A friend? Alex wanted, so badly, to go to him. He wanted to get between Matt and this adversary, but it was impossible. He tried to touch Matt, but his fingers passed right through Matt’s arm. No. There would be no intervening. The other boy was enormous. Alex guessed he must have been a linebacker for the high school football team at some point.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Derek,” Matt said.

  “Don’t you fucking lie to me, you goddamn cocksucker,” Derek shouted. “You’re not getting out of this one. I saw you staring at me in the showers. I warned you once.”

  A quick jab from Derek sent Matt falling backwards, flailing his arms. In a second, Derek was on top of him, pinning Matt’s arms to the ground with his knees. He was pummeling Matt’s face, and the back of the would-be prophet’s head was bouncing against the hard wood floor of the gym. Derek just laid into him, and no one stepped in to help or even questioned what was going on. Matt’s head rocked from one side to the other from a couple strikes, and blood flew into the air.

  Alex felt that he’d seen this before. Then, he remembered this was what he’d felt in the car, on the night that he’d first met Matt and Elizabeth.

  Derek stood up; it looked like he was finally done smashing Matt’s face. He had blood all over his own face and arms. He looked down at his shirt and, horrified, he saw blood there, too. He motioned to someone in the crowd.

  “Pick him up,” Derek commanded.

  Another pretty big guy did as was commanded. He held Matt in a full nelson, and Derek walked up.

  “This shirt cost sixty bucks, which is more than you’re worth.” With that, he kneed Matt in the groin. Matt tried to double over but couldn’t. “And this,” Derek added as he kneed him again, “is for the blood all over my face.” Again, Matt tried to double over, but the brute behind him held fast. “Drop him,” Derek commanded.

  The brute dropped Matt, and the prophet landed with a dull thud. Matt curled up on the ground, in a pool of his own blood. Moments later, he threw up. That made the crowd part a little. Matt looked like he would soon lose consciousness.

  Derek spat on him. “You better not have AIDS, faggot, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

  And Alex believed he would have, too.

  Alex looked at Matt as the boy moaned on the floor, and the mob of teenagers walked away, unconcernedly. Derek kicked Matt in the ribs before leaving, for good measure. Matt recoiled, but only a little. As they were leaving, Matt just lay there. He looked like he was crying. Blood, mixed with vomit, mixed with tears. Alex looked away, and the scene faded.

  ***

  Elizabeth stood midway on the stairs. She was in a state of disbelief. She didn’t know what to do, and her heart was racing. Even though Abbie was the most accomplished prophet Elizabeth had ever met, it gave her little comfort to know that she was going to help Matt, who was, for all Elizabeth knew, dying. She couldn’t call anyone because anyone who would be able to help either couldn’t get there in time or was already there. So she stood, motionless, helpless.

  “Is there something wrong?” a soft voice from below queried.

  Elizabeth looked down and saw a tan-complexioned young man with a nearly shaved head. His clothing was very modest, very plain. He held himself completely upright, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel the peace that radiated from him. Lao Shi. She wondered if the commotion had woken him, but the walls in the mansion were thick enough that a concert could be held in the foyer, and nothing would be heard in the bedrooms.

  “I hope not,” Elizabeth replied.

  “You look distressed,” Lao Shi observed. />
  “I think my friend may be in danger.”

  “Alex?” Lao Shi asked.

  “No,” she returned, looking at him sternly, “Matt.”

  “I think he will be fine,” Lao Shi commented, coolly

  Her look changed. “Why?”

  “He has much to do yet,” the Lama replied.

  “Doesn’t Alex?”

  “Of course,” Lao Shi affirmed. “But he will soon be in danger. So, naturally, I thought that it was for him that you worried.”

  Elizabeth was intrigued. “You’ve seen that?”

  “Not as you see things.”

  “I know,” Elizabeth agreed. “But you dream things, the future.”

  “I do not always dream of the future. Sometimes, I dream of the past, and sometimes I dream of the present. Sometimes, I dream of things that never happened and never will happen.”

  “And you know that Alex will be in danger?”

  “Is he not in a constant state of danger?” Lao Shi countered.

  “That isn’t what I’m asking, and I think you know it.”

  “Then, you should be specific in your meaning.”

  Elizabeth sighed deeply. “Will Alex soon be in mortal danger?”

  Lao Shi looked at her, curiously, for a moment and answered, “Yes.”

  Elizabeth was shocked. “From what?”

  “Demons,” Lao Shi answered, shortly.

  “You’re very difficult to talk to.”

  “That is interesting.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I have been told that I am very easy to talk to but very difficult to understand.”

  “Okay,” she said, giving up. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to find out what’s going on. I may be needed, soon.”

  “I think you do mean to be rude, but you do not want to appear that way,” Lao Shi responded. “But I understand your concern. And if it is any consolation, I believe he does need you, and will continue to need you, more than you know.” With that, the Lama walked back the way he had come.

  ***

  Alex found himself sitting at a bar. He’d never been in a bar before, but this one seemed odd. There was a crazy light show going on, and people were moving to the rhythm. It wasn’t so much an issue of dancing; they were just really getting into the music. It was at this point that Alex realized why the bar seemed so out of the ordinary—there were no women.