As soon as I saw the angel stagger into the shop, his wide grin almost totally hidden behind the huge, bulky computer monitor in his arms, I had to hold in a sigh.  This wasn’t going to be fun…

Barely able to even walk with his arms full of outdated electronics, the angel finally managed to reach one of the side tables, where he deposited his load with a crash.  I did have to admit, I was impressed he made it without tripping over the hem of his own robe.

After making sure that my employee had the front counter under control, I stepped out from behind the espresso machine and made my way over to the beaming angel.  I sized him up as I drew closer, looking for those tell-tale little details that reveal rank.

No flaming sword at his hip, so he wasn’t a guardian.  The halo had a slight pinkish hue to its glow, which said cherubim.  A crease along the back of his robe, as if a rectangular quiver usually rested there, further supported this hypothesis.

“So, what have we got here, um…” I always had trouble telling the cherubs apart.

“Galafim,” the angel filled in my waiting silence without rancor.  “Isn’t it amazing?  The latest technology!  You humans are amazing at creating these devices!”

This time, I couldn’t fully hold back my sigh as the cherub plopped down in his seat and eagerly began fiddling with the buttons on the front of the monitor.  This wasn’t the first time that an angel had brought some dilapidated piece of electronics into my coffee shop, insisting that he was “riding the wave of the future.”

First, there had been the whole “text-to-speech” incident.

I don’t even know how the poor angel managed to enable that function, but they all leapt up in shock, and a couple of the angels had their flaming swords drawn by the time I made it over, waving my hands and shouting “No, no, no!” over and over at the top of my lungs.

“The infernal adding machine is possessed!” thundered an especially feisty seraph as his blade burst into flaming life above his head.

“No, no!” I insisted, not even thinking as I rushed in between the smiting being and his target.  “It’s just a setting to help people with eyesight issues!  Here, I’ll turn it off!”

It took a few minutes of messing around in the machine’s settings menu, but I finally managed to turn off the text-to-speech function.  Compounding the matter was the issue that the angel had also somehow managed to invert the color scheme, changing it to a blend of neon lime and purple.  It was also surprisingly tough to work with angry angels holding swords peering in over my shoulder.

After that, I considered banning all electronics from my coffee shop.  But the angels promised to be good, and like a fool, I believed them.

Now, as I watched this angel poke and prod at his clunky monitor, I shook my head to myself.  I really should have known better…

When he stepped inside the coffee shop, his companion was already there, standing by the bulletin board and pretending to peruse the postings.  Of course he’d be early.

Lucifer forced himself to not grind his teeth.  Sure, he could regrow them with a moment’s thought, but one of his under-devils had told him that it made quite the awkward squeaking sound when he did so.  “Doesn’t exactly inspire fear of the ‘Prince of Darkness’,” the fallen angel had commented, snickering a little.

Of course, Lucifer promptly tossed the angel through a portal to the opposite end of the universe, inside quite the large star, but he still didn’t feel great about the whole thing.

And now he was here, having to meet with the one person he despised most in the world!  The man never came down here!  He might be the Voice, but he always seemed to busy, too arrogant, to deal with anything personally.

In fact, Lucern (as he still occasionally thought of himself, when he forgot that it was no longer his name) wasn’t sure about this whole thing.  Wasn’t Metatron not supposed to even set foot on Earth until the whole Apocalypse deal was about to start?

Lucifer thought about summoning up his calendar to check if he’d gotten the date wrong.  Before he snapped his fingers, however, he remembered that he’d upgraded to that little electronic doodad, and he still couldn’t get it to do anything except shoot small birds at pigs.  Not that squashing these pigs wasn’t fun, but it didn’t exactly predict the Apocalypse.

Now that he had arrived, the other man, standing by the billboard, turned and grinned at him.  It was, of course, a perfect smile.  Metatron might not visit this plane much, but he still could summon up the perfect teeth, the flawless skin, the amazing jawline, that would make most mortals weep.  “Good of you to come, Lucifer,” the man said in melodious tones.  “But really – a coffee shop?”

Lucifer grunted something back at him under his breath.  To be honest, although this place had become something of a hotspot among the lesser devils, Lucifer had never set foot here before.  Still, neither had Metatron, so that ensured he wasn’t walking into some sort of trap.

He hoped.

The pair of celestial beings proceeded up to the front counter, where the barista looked steadily back at them.  “Well, couple of male models, we’ve got here,” she commented.  “Lemme guess – seven creams, seven sugars, basically white sludge?”

The waitress clearly knew an angel’s palate.  Lucifer managed to keep a lid on his surprise, and felt a little bloom of petty-minded happiness when he saw Metatron stumble.  It was just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for the fallen angel to spot.

Coffees in hand (the waitress accepted a heavy gold coin from Metatron as payment without question, further showing that she had encountered angels and their lack of understanding about inflation before), the two beings settled into a booth near the window, where they gazed outside as they sipped at the tepid liquid.  It was a cold day in February, and most of the passers-by were bundled up tightly against the winter’s chill.

“So.”  Lucifer hated to talk first, but he didn’t want to spend forever just sitting here with his enemy.  “Why’d you call me up?”

Metatron took his time in drinking one more sip before turning his attention to the fallen angel.  Don’t grind your teeth, Lucifer reminded himself.  “It seems that there’s been a slight… problem… with the Prophecies,” the man finally stated.

Lucifer had to hold back from crowing aloud with delight.  Hah!  Hadn’t he always said that those old books were a load of crap?  And not just because they ended up sticking him in another elemental plane where it was unbearably hot, either.  But he wasn’t going to throw this in Metatwrong’s face.  He would be professional.

“So what did you do, mis-schedule the Apocalypse?” he asked.  Okay, mostly professional.

He was expecting Metatron to come back with an angry denial.  But to his amazement, the angel looked down into his coffee, as if there was an answer somewhere in the sludge.

“You did,” Lucifer marveled.  “When was it supposed to be?”

“Yesterday.”

For once, the fallen angel didn’t have a response.  He slumped back in his chair, staring out the window.  “Well, then,” he said after a minute, not sure what else to offer.

“Yeah.”

For a few minutes, the two angels, one holy and one fallen, sat there and drank their coffee.  Finally, just as had happened before, Lucifer couldn’t take it any longer, and had to break the silence.  “So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“Well, we could actually reschedule it for a few hundred years further down the road, actually,” Metatron shrugged.  “The other prophecies line up close enough for that to work.  But it does kind of seem like we ought to go ahead with it now, considering all the planning that’s gone into it.”

The angel raised his eyes to Lucifer, and the arch-devil realized something.  This all-powerful being wanted his opinion!  Casting his mind about, he glanced out the window.  “Here, watch this,” he said suddenly.

Outside, there was a very well-dressed man marching down the street, yelling into a cell phone.  Coming the other way, a young woman was also on the phone, not ignoring the small dog at the end of the leash she held.  The dog was running back and forth, yapping in quite the annoying manner.

“I don’t see-” Metatron began, but Lucifer paused him with a finger.

Finally, the dog apparently decided to release his bladder – right in front of the angrily yelling man.  The man looked down as his expensive shoe landed in something wet – and, with his attention not on his path, immediately collided with the young woman.  Both of them tumbled down into the dirty snow, with the dog now yapping and jumping on top of both of them, snarling and nipping at anything it could grab.

Although he covered his mouth, Metatron couldn’t hold back a little snort of laughter.  “These creatures are ridiculous,” he managed to get out between little barks of laughter.

Lucifer nodded.  He didn’t think he needed to say anything more.

After another minute of chuckling, the arch-angel tossed back the rest of his coffee.  “I’ll be seeing you, Lucern,” he said, shaking his shoulders a little.  “God, I gotta get out of this body.  All my wings are cramped in here.”

For a long few minutes after the angel had left, the devil remained there, sipping slowly at his coffee (which in his hand, never cooled off).  “Eh, a few more years won’t hurt them,” he finally said aloud to no one in particular.

And then he finished his own cup and stood up, heading out to the door and beyond.

Continued from here.

I stared at the most recent note in the file, my heart sinking.  The tech, apparently not satisfied with writing in the largest available font, had added both bold, underline, and italics to his final sentence.  “Insists on using summoning portals from 3 iterations ago,” it read.  “Totally tech illiterate, and heavy on the smiting.”

Not good…

Mordak was still on the phone, ranting on about his titles.  “Excuse me, sir,” I interrupted, knowing that he’d go on forever.  “Sir, are you trying to perform a demonic summons?”

“Of course I am!  That’s what I said!” the demon roared back at me, perhaps a bit out of shape that he hadn’t gotten to recite all of his titles.  “And it isn’t working!   What’s wrong?  I always have this same damned problem!”

I thought about pointing out that he was probably using the wrong summoning spell iteration, and that he needed to upgrade to the latest version of the spell if he wanted to get a proper connection with the cosmic ley lines.  However, given how the other tech’s mention of the smiting, I thought that perhaps it would be worth trying a different tactic.

“Of course, sir, just give me one moment,” I said into the phone, hitting some more keys on the computer.  Mordak began growling angry threats into the receiver, but I had already set it down while I typed.  It took a minute, but I soon had the instructions and schematics for the current summoning spell version displayed on-screen.

Now, however, came the tricky part.

I cast my eye around my cubicle.  All around me were massive, dusty volumes, most of them now long obsolete as they depicted arcane rituals and devilish practices that had long since gone out of style or had been replaced by much simpler and smoother protocols.  Somewhere in these books, I knew, was the version of the summoning ritual that Mordak insisted on using.

The only question now was whether I could manage to locate it before the cantankerous old devil figured out how to shoot a jet of flame through the phone line.

Given his inadequacy with any advanced technology, I figured that I had a bit of time.  But many of the older books were still not translated from their original demonic runes, a dense and complex language that hurt the eye with its twisting letters and occasionally managed to possess the weak-minded mortal.  Fortunately, I had plenty of coffee to help bolster my brain.

After several dusty books nearly crushed me as I labored them off the stacks, I finally found what I was looking for.  I propped the massive tome up next to the computer, comparing the two images.  “Okay, Mordak, I have the answer for you,” I said into the phone.

I had to repeat myself several times before the raging devil finally noticed that someone was speaking back to him, but he finally quieted enough to listen.  “Speak, mortal!” he roared.

“Okay, take the left-most black candle and push it three inches towards the center of the circle,” I read off, comparing the diagrams with one outstretched finger.  “And instead of using an emu egg, you’ll want to substitute in three chicken ones.  You’ll need to rework your summoning coordinates into hexidecimal from pentadecimal.  Finally, the fourth pirouette should be counter-clockwise.”

There were a few snorts as the devil labored to implement my changes.  “This isn’t how I know it,” he growled suspiciously, but I could hear that he wasn’t quite as angry as before.  Faced with simple changes, he was now suspicious, but not yet in a smiting mood.

“Yes, I’m sorry about this,” I said politely into the phone receiver.  “But if you try it with these changes from here on out, you should be able to summon up your target without difficulty.”  I crossed my fingers, closed my eyes, and prayed.

After a minute, the devil came back on the phone line.  “Well, it seems to be working now, whatever you did,” Mordak grunted.  “I’ll call again if there are more problems.”  And before I could respond, he disconnected.

I sagged back into my chair.  On Mordak’s file, I added a couple more notes outlining the differences between summoning versions.  Just another day in Hell, I thought to myself.

I didn’t get much respite.  Soon, the phone was ringing again.  I made several rude gestures towards it, and then picked it up.

“Hell Services, Tech department, this is Carob, how can I help you?”

The phone rang at me.  I glared down at it for a minute before I picked it up, wishing that I could send a curse through the line itself.  Unfortunately, the caller was probably higher ranked than me.  Otherwise, they wouldn’t be calling.

The persistent, shrill noise continued, until I finally grabbed the receiver just to make it stop.  “Hell Service, Tech department, this is Carob, how can I help you?” I said, the words sliding out in a single sentence.

“Yeah, uh, I’m having some problems,” came the response.  I rolled my eyes, holding the receiver out away from my mouth in case a swear word accidentally slipped free…

“Well, that’s what Hell Service is here for,” I said back into the phone, gritting my fangs.  “Would you mind telling me what the problem is, sir?”  The voice sounded male, which probably meant I wasn’t working with a succubus.

I actually didn’t mind when the succubi called in.  Sure, they were simpering idiots, but most of the time their problems were easy fixes, and they were usually more than willing to whisper some very naughty words of encouragement, as if this was a game that they could win by distracting me.  It might take a little longer, but their problems would eventually be solved, and I’d have to sit and stare off into nothing for a little while until my heart rate dropped back down.

This voice, however, was most definitely not a succubus.  Which meant that either a human sorceror had been sent to us by another department, or a devil somewhere was having trouble.

“It’s not working,” the voice on the other end of the line pointed out, and I snapped back to the present.

“What’s not working, sir?” I asked, praying that maybe the person at the other end would give me some details.

“This infernal spell, damn you!” the voice snarled, and I felt the undercurrent of demonic rage.  That little undercurrent was designed to make mortal souls quake in fear, but something was lost when it was transmitted over phone lines.  Instead of losing control of my bowels, I merely had a sudden urge to use the bathroom, and even that quickly passed.

So, I was working with a devil.  More good news for me.

“Sir, could I get your name, so that I might be able to provide better service?” I asked into the phone, as the echoes of his roar died away.  Of course, this wasn’t so that I could provide better service.  I merely wanted to pull up his file, hoping that another tech might have left notes telling me what I was dealing with.

“Name?” the devil growled.  “Mordak, Wreaker of Souls!  All tremble before me!  All fear my demonic might!  I am the destroyer of-“

“Mordak, yes, got it,” I hurriedly replied before he got too much further.  If I allowed him, the devil would babble on all day.

As I soothed the angry immortal on the other end of the line, I hit a couple keys on the ancient computer in front of me.  I kept on pestering my demonic overlords for a systems upgrade, but as immortals, the entire idea of obsolescence was beyond them.  Finally, I got Mordak’s file pulled up.  I stared at the notes left behind by other techs, and couldn’t hold back my sigh.

Pardon the cliche, but this was going to be hell…

To be continued!