The room is not a room. Furniture simply bobs gently around in an unseen or felt orbit. At the grand oak desk Satan is seated, trying to find a comfortable position for his tail in the tall leather chair. A girl with a shaved head and tattoos curling around her neck and skull files her fluro pink fingernails, muddy boots resting on Lucifer's desk. Another girl with bright green dreadlocks smokes on the leather couch. Next to her, a boy with a crewcut is sprawled, nursing a hangover.
"Report," Lucifer demands, seriously considering cutting off his tail.
"Misty's printing it," Peyton inspects her fuchsia nails.
"Printing!?" He explodes, "How much earthly crap are you sluts dragging down here?"
"Relax, Lucy," Tori pushes smoke through her nostrils upwards, "We aren't bringing useless things like clocks and dolls."
"Yet," Satan snorts.
"Shhh!" Issac calls from through the couch cushion, "Keep it down.
"Here it is," Misty frisbees a stack of papers, dissolving into the room from the thick, inky space surrounding the jouncing furniture. She flops down on an incoming armchair, chains connecting her nipple piercings jingling under her short, loose shirt.
"Misty?" Lucifer fingers the paper, staring intently, "What is this fucking shit? I can't decipher mortals' scribbles."
"Then why the fuck did I have to print it?" Misty pours herself some wine, the one thing she does not regret bringing down to Hades.
"Shut up!" Issac cuddles a pillow over his head.
"You didn't need to," Peyton trails a drop of paint across her toenail, "You just wanted to try out your new printer."
"Says the one splattering nail polish on Lucy's new desk."
"GIVE ME THE REPORT!" Satan howls.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Issac sits up, revealing his red rimmed eyes, bags hanging under and chapped lips.
"My my, someone had fun," Tori smiles, smoke trickling through her teeth.
"Shut it, Tori," he cradles his face in his hands.
Lucifer rubs his temples, careful not to cut himself with his overgrown, dirty nails, "Why, oh why are you the new sins?"
"Because lust, gluttony, laziness and pride are acceptable on modern earth," Issac mumbles, "So naturally misery, pain, torture and illness had to come in."
"Seriously? No wonder business is so bad," Satan twists his tail around his finger.
"Oh, the world is starting to legalize gay marriage," Peyton informs absently.
"What!?" He slams his scathed fist down on the heavy desk. "This is madness! Who else is going to fill up all this wasteland!?" Lucifer waves his hand around, indicating to the lulling blackness.
"We could always, y'know, turn humans into demons," Misty says carefully.
The not-quite-room is silent with thought. "That's brilliant, Misty!" Lucifer cries.
Issac grumbles.
"If you didn't want to suffer, you shouldn't work for me!" Satan shouts. "Anyway, I'm putting you all on the job. Issac"— an evil smirk creeps across Lucifer's face — "your job is to watch over them. Girls, stay gay. Enforce it, make it a sin, please! I'm losing my pride here, which is rather ironic. Now go, I have some … business to attend to." The four youths look at each other, knowing he has an orgy scheduled. They leave abruptly, off to join the land of the mortal.
Satan gathers up the escaping papers, despite not being able to read them. He know his new sins will exit if it involves him and sex. In truth, he has another meeting to attend. Other gods and devils of earth gather in heaven— as Jesus had claimed 'upstairs'— then go off unanimously to meet with the other gods and devils of other planets, galaxies, universes and dimensions.
Oddly, in spite of what humans believe, their known universe didn't just 'poof' into existence. No, a creature known as Jkakeshge in English, had carefully constructed it, commit by commit. He, presuming it's male, positioned everything thoughtfully and placed life where he thought it should go.
Lucifer loathed these meetings with a passion. Not only because he had to leave his beloved den, but had to listen to over eight hundred languages and solve the problems of this speaker. Why should he care? Satan often thought of skipping these dreary meetings but was reminded of the pant Mars, so dubbed by humans. Jkakeshge could take life faster than he could make it.
The trip to heaven is quite tedious. A massive gap lay between hell and heaven; Earth. Lucifer, having such long, messy hair and being rather careless, has been spotted numerous times. Nicknamed 'Bigfoot'. It's very difficult to travel, inconspicuous, in the land of the mortals with all their satellites, cameras and the damn spread of their population. He never quite grasped why his presence had to be hidden, but Jkakeshge was extremely strict on it. Satan's only form of cover is the trees. He frequently cursed the human motto 'curiosity'. Aren't things better a mystery? Why do they need to understand everything that surrounds them? Humans are indeed baffling. Life far was more amusing when they ran around, miscalculating everything. Now, with 'theories' they're figuring everything out. It's all slowly falling apart.
The North-pole is safe. Lucifer breathes at long last when he sees it. He jogs forth, then halts. And winces. Allah is here. He can't stand Allah, bragging about his loyal followers. He particularly favours a latest member, labelled the 'White Widow'.
"Lulu!" Allah calls, "I see you made it."
"Allie," Satan shoots back. Both males glare at one another and make a robotically polite way to the Stairwell.
The Stairwell is run by evolutionarily failed creatures, tittering around with black, soulless eyes and sharp teeth. No matter how much each passing devil or god wants to hit the bitter things, they were Jkakeshge's henchmen on earth, untouchable. One visiting god made the mistake of striking a creature. He was sentenced to to live among the evil things. All who pass glance at him; his lagging, tangled beard and veil-like hair. His eyes haunt one unlucky enough to meet them; filled with longing, hatred, pain, loneliness, unable to speak out in native tongue. No one speaks his name.
Lucifer is grateful to climb the Stairs at last. Towards the top, he has to stop. "What;'s the hold up, Lulu?" Allah yodels from just below.
"Clogging," he replies, 'Humans are lined up for processing." He starts to push past, "Move it deceased mortals! Stan coming through!" Oceans of bodies later, Lucifer reaches the Processing Desks. A woman clacks furiously at her computer. Her dark curls are raked back into a bun, wrinkles prominent in her forehead and mouth. "Mary?" Lucifer leans on the desk, "Wow. What century are you up to now?"
"Seventeenth," Mary looks away from the screen, clearly relived to take a break, "They're breeding like crazy down there. Man, when my son said I could have eternal life, I expected walking on the beach everyday, sipping wine and eating salted bread. Of course not! I have to spend eternity dividing mortals into their factions. Thanks, 'son'!"
"How is he by the way? Get a haircut yet?"
She sighs, "You know little Joe; he'll sooner cut off his own penis than that ratty ponytail."
Satan laughs, "That's true. Well, I'll let you go on. Hopefully there are more sinners and Satanists in that line."
'Heaven' isn't what any human books describe. It's a circular room with many doors, one for each religion and its counterpart, past or present. A special, unmarked door located in the centre. God's office. Only open to family; such as his mother Mary, working at the desk or his four sons, the three archangels, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. Lucifer enters the office cautiously.
"Hello, Lucy," Jesus smiles.
"Hi Father," he grumbles. Anyone who knows the story of the bible, understands Lucifer is a fallen angel, a descendant of Jesus himself. So are Raphael, Michael and Gabriel, Satan's annoyingly sexy younger triplet brothers. They are one of the many reasons he left. "Ugh," Jesus gives a disapproving look at his eldest son, "What have you done with your hair this time?"
Satan's hair is a mass of the occasional braid or dreadlock with beads or loose curls. He's never been able to settle on a single color for his mad mane. "At least I change it every now and then."
"There was nothing wrong with your original, normal hair, Lucifer."
"And there was nothing wrong with your original, normal name, Joseph junior." It's no secret God's real name is Joseph, after his father. "Oh, Lucifer," Joe rubs his messy brows, "Must we always fight?"
"Even mortals know we argue, father. Why hide it?"
"Let's go, son. We're going o be late." Joe pushes past his son. Satan smiles, satisfied. He does enjoy winning a fight.
To his dismay, Lucifer sees Gabriel and Michael chatting up Buddah. As this is the right location, Satan prays Raphael doesn't see him. "Lucy! Big brother!" Shit, it's too late. Raphael jogs over, sculptured muscles rippling under his toned skin. The other two thirds come over too. Innocent questions are fired into Lucifer's eardrums. "Oh for fuck's sake!" He explodes, "Ask me how big her tits were! Go on! Ask!" The triplets frown together.
"Oh right! You're virgins!" Satan breathes for a minutes, "I swear women keep their faith just to look at you."
Lucifer knows his brothers won't reply as it's 'unkind'. He's already in the mood for wine and earth mystical population hasn't even arrived yet.
Satan tries to makes scenes with his unkept hair on the table. Some god from a different dimention is listing his planet's problems. He has to last another two beings before it's his turn. All devils and gods are arranged in alphabetical order by their title ('God' or 'Satan' is a title), regardless whether they are good or bad. Lucifer is happy his title isn't Rvlichme, which, if written in it's origin, is the earthly equivalent of z. He blames all these alphabets, languages and pronunciations or his reading disability. A lot of letters look similar, some are even the same! Satan gave up many millennia ago on learning to read; it's extremely difficult to remember close to one thousand languages.
"Satan," Jkakeshge calls, first in English then it's many, many translations. Waiting several minutes to present isn't exactly convenient. Especially with the ring of scribes asking him to repeat or reword what he's just said every minute. This is the true hell.
"Uhh," Lucifer fumbles with the papers. This is a que for his scribe, loyal Olivia, to fix and read the mass of symbols to her boss. Though she curses at him , she enjoys the attention. Olivia rests on her haunches and whispers the words for Satan to amplify. This is why Misty had to print it. "The usual things," he begins, straining to hear his scribe, "Pollution, poverty ... pr-probing and quest-questioning." A chorus of thoughtful muttering. Jesus intervenes. His son takes a seat and dozes off immediately. Joe knows Lucifer is unprepared and rude. despite their bickering, he will save him if he needs it. And besides, Satan would have stopped even if no one intercepted. Olivia returns to her pen and paper. The eternal meeting continues.