A chill washed over me and I was grateful that there was no microphone on my piano for this performance.
“What?”, I breathed, trying to keep my mouth from obviously moving.
“I said, or rather suggested to the area of your brain that controls speech that I said, ‘well since you asked’. Did it come through alright? I do sometimes leave myself on mute when I first make contact”
“Mute?”
“Well, no obviously not exactly, but I felt like it would be easier to shortcut explaining how this is happening.”
I felt my head turning to face the audience without any input from me. It was at once terrifying, and a massive relief. Handing control to someone else for the first time in my adult life.
“Especially”, continued the suggestion of the voice in my head, “as it looks like you have some immediate time pressure. What with all these people expecting you to do something.”
“It’s OK. I’ve got a few moments. Silent contemplation from the ‘artist’ is all the rage these days before a show”, I muttered. “So am I possessed by the Devil?”
There was a burst of laughter in my head, that rumbled around and around. “No! Obviously not. Who even are you? I had no handover on this one, so I assume you’re a first-timer? The Devil isn’t getting out of bed for a first-timer.”
I felt the colour rise to my cheeks. “Well then, who are you? And how good is your Chopin?”
“Chopin? No, he’s one of the other sides favourites. But I can’t play anything. Not a musical scale in my hide, no pun intended. Can’t tell my arpeggio from my elbow. I’m sort of a clerk, actually. Putting people in touch with the right department, based on what they need.”
I closed my eyes and tried to look meditative. “You can’t even help me?”
“Well not right now, no. I’m going to turn full control back to you. I hope your piano playing is more precise than the way you ask for demonic possession. Otherwise, these people are in for a bad time. What were you going to do?”
“Play as well as I can, and claim I was sick afterwards.”
I felt myself nodding to myself. “Sounds like the best plan. I’ll pop myself back on mute and we can talk afterwards about what you really desire and how I can help you today. OK?”
I shook my head, put my hands on the keys, and played the most mediocre version of Chopin’s incredible work that this audience had ever heard.
When the deafeningly weak applause finally died away, and my excuses and explanations had died even faster, I found myself looking in the mirror of the small dressing room, that the local library had set aside for the ‘big star’.
“What the hell was that? Did I just imagine myself talking to myself?”, I said to myself with no sense of irony.
I felt my head shaking without my consent.
“Fuck”, I said. “Must be a muscle spasm. I’m losing it!”
My head shook again, and I put my hand up in front of me, holding my index finger upright.
“Sorry. Sorry, 1 sec. I couldn’t find the mute button. How did it go?”
“Surely you know how it went?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it started so badly I couldn’t watch it to the end. I cringed so hard I was in danger of spiking myself with me own horns.”
“Yes! Exactly! That’s why I needed your help!”
I frowned in confusion. “Really? You asked for Satans help to impress 27 old people in a small, I presume unpaid gig in a local library?”
“Well, no. More musical ability in general. Fame and stardom and all that”, I protested. “This was just the start.”
“Ah. Now we are getting somewhere. So why do you want to be famous? For the money? To stop having to work? For the ladies or men or whatever you like to rub up against?”
“Well, that’s a rude question!”
“No, I need to put you in touch with the right Sin team. The Lust Boys will help you with the sex. The Greedy Gang if its about cash. The Sloths will eventually get around to helping you be lazy. Fame is just a means to an end.”
“Well, what if I said it’s for the love of the music?”
“Are you?.”
“Am I what?”
“Are you saying that? About the love of the music?”
I paused. “No. I suppose it’s the sex thing.”
I clapped my hands together. “OK, great. So I know just the demon for you on this one. He handled Wilt Chamberlain back in the day. He’s still dining out on that one actually. He’ll hook you up.”
“OK”, I said. “I hope it works. I’ve not been able to stop thinking about her since I was 12 years old. There’s just something about—”
“Hang on. Do you want sex with lots of people? Or do you want one person in particular?”
“Just one. The only one.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hands. “Right. Fine. That’s a different thing, you’ve come through to the wrong number. Can I give you some advice? Just be yourself, and it’ll work out.”
“I tried that. And it hasn’t worked so far.”
“OK. Sounds good. Listen, do you think you could fill out a small questionnaire rating how well I helped direct your possession today? Would really help my stats, and I did save you from blowing your immortal soul on something as silly as playing Chopin well to impress a girl.”
I nodded without wanting to. “Hey! You did that!”
“Just trying to move it along. Sometimes helps to feel yourself agreeing. About this questionnaire?”
I had an idea. An idea that would reshape my life. “I’ll do your questionnaire.”
“Great. Question 1. On a scale of 1 to 5 with 5 being Devilishly Good, how well did your operat—”
“I’ll do it if you stay in control and help me talk to Sarah. I’m meeting her after the show.”
There was a pause while the demon thought about it. “Did she just hear you 'play' that drivel?”
“No. She was stuck at work.”
“Thank Dog for that. You’ve still got a chance then. Fine. I’ve got half hour or so. I’m going to need all 5’s though.”
“Sure. Whatever. Anything to get me a second date.”
“I’m a demon, not a wizard.”
“Fine. Please. What do I call you?”
“You can call me Rathron”, I said to myself out loud. “And I’ll be taking full control of speech now. Just so you don’t fuck this up. Now, where are we meeting this wench?”
