London. The offices of Triple S Security, inside a nondescript building in a rundown northern suburb. Weeks after the Hell mobile phone hack. Crowley, Evgeny, and Bohdan are sitting around Bohdan's console, watching the camera stream from Beelzebub's Hell phone. Bohdan presses himself back into his ergonomic chair as Beelzebub's face appears on the screen. He turns his head away from the selfie of glowing eyes and radiant hate.
What if she comes to get us?
Evgeny rises, goes to Bohdan's chair, takes the small man's hands and pulls him up. Embraces him in a tight hug. Bohdan trembles.
Then we get to meet her _before_ we die and go to hell.
Bohdan gives a nervous giggle. Evgeny escorts him over to his own chair, sits and pulls Bohdan into his lap. Bohdan nestles his head against Evgeny's shoulder as the older man pats and soothes him. Crowley, however, sees something else in Beelzebub's face as she gazes at her phone. Suspicion.
I think she's onto us.
Crowley activates the hot-mike, listens intently as Beelzebub apparently leaves her office, storms through the corridors of hell, and enters the Communications department. The jerky camera feed goes from dark inside of pocket to room packed with cluttered desks fading off into the shadows.
Demons look up and freeze in alarm. A large pudgy male demon with pig's ears rises from what seems to be an executive desk and saunters over to Beelzebub. He gives a slight bow.
Lord Beelzebub. How can we be of service?
Beelzebub is holding up a mobile phone.
Explain to me how this works.
It is for disposable demons dispatched to Earth. You tap a contact, the phone connects you.
I know that, fool.
Well. I . . . uh . . .
The demon makes the mistake of turning to give an inquiring look to his vice director. The entire room cringes as Beelzebub discorporates him with a gout of fire. She turns to regard the executive assistant (in ages past known as the office secretary).
Tell Reincorporation to escort him directly to the sulfur pools.
The assistant lifts the handset from her/his (it's hard to tell) 1970s intercom set and makes a call. Beelzebub turns and regards the vice director.
Explain.
The demon quails as he realizes he doesn't really know how a mobile phone works.
Lord. We . . . uh . . . simply purchased them from an Earth supplier a few years ago. Better range than walkie-talkies for communicating with Earth assignments.
Beelzebub discorporates him. Regards the assistant, who promptly places another call to Reincorporation. Beelzebub gives a curt nod of approval. Turns to gaze over the room.
Anyone? . . . Anyone?
A small demon far back in the smoky shadows rises and navigates through the maze of desks. She has fox ears and nine bedraggled, mangy fox tails. Finally reaching the front of the room, she kowtows to Beelzebub.
Daji. Rise.
Lord Beelzebub. The phones are machines that emit and receive signals over specific bands of the electromagnetic spectrum. The humans have set up a network of towers to capture and route these signals.
Can anyone listen in on these signals?
My lord, not unless they make a special effort and have the right devices. It is a complex system. Half the humans on Earth use these phones and seemingly do not care if anyone is listening.
How do you know this?
I have an Earth passport, my lord. I spend time in buildings they call "libraries." Humans no longer rely solely upon paper and books to transmit information. They have built machines that - like their mobile phones - make use of the electromagnetic spectrum as a medium to store knowledge.
Computers.
Yes, my lord. Connected by what they call "The Internet." The libraries have computers available for use by anyone.
Come to my office.
London. Exterior of Heaven & Hell office tower. Daji exits the doors, walks briskly down the sidewalk. Her Earth guise is that of a petite Asian clad in forgettable black, from the beanie through the scruffy denim jacket right down to the trainers. She carries a messenger bag. One of the twin Tadfield Erics emerges from the crowd and confronts her. Bows hurriedly and looks anxiously at her, as if he's contemplating doing a bunk if she makes any sudden moves.
Demon Daji. I cannot kowtow in the street. Demon Crowley summons you.
Daji says nothing as she regards him.
This way, if it pleases you.
Daji gracefully gestures as if to say "Go ahead," and the two walk around a corner to where the Bentley is parked. Crowley leans out the window.
Get in. We'll have a chat elsewhere.
Eric scoots around and escorts Daji through the passenger door with the grace of a hotel doorman. Stands beside the car.
You too, Eric.
Eric hops in and crouches anxiously on the back seat as the Bentley eases into London traffic.