NEGOTIATING HELL: a sequel to CS Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." Ch 21: Obedience

Later that afternoon, after the AM proposal-exchange …

Satan and Mary returned to the negotiation room. It was eerily empty, even by hell’s standards. Mary arranged her files along Satan’s table. For their name cards, Satan’s title for today would be, "Fiendish Administrator of Ruin & Torment"-- for the acronym. Then, she placed name cards on the minion’s table. After they sat, they could move their cards around. Even if no one else cared, Mary wished to know their names and personalities.

“Where are my grease-traps?” Satan barked and paced, winding up for a full-throated tantrum. His ingrates would be punished for their punctuality. Or was this revenge for Satan’s chronic tardiness?

This afternoon, he was costumed as a community-theater, Viking warrior with long dark curls under a silver horned helmet. He wore a deerskin tunic draped with a tan-tinged sheepskin. (Or was he shouldering a mutton carcass for the butcher shop?) His leather moccasin/foot-wraps matched his tunic. Mary noticed his sueded forearm and shin guards laced incorrectly. Normally, circulation is directed towards the heart, with strings tucked at the elbows and knees. Today, Satan tourniqueted his wrists and ankles, using loose drawstrings to act as tripping and hooking hazards. When Satan banged the table as he was want to do, Mary saw seltzer spillage, flying files and double-looping of doorknobs, etc.

“Please may I ask you to have a seat, Ragnar?” Mary snickered at the southern Seditionist seeking a ‘terror of the north’ vibe. She continued, “everything is orchestrated, including arrival times. You love theater, right? Everything has a purpose during negotiations.”

“Why can’t I pace, Myra?” demanded Satan.

“My name is Mary, as you well know, and because I said so,’’ snapped Mary.

“That’s not a good argument,” sassed Satan.

Mary continued, “we choreograph everything to keep others guessing. Don’t Master Manipulators know about this sort of thing?”

“Yes, Mia,” agreed Satan. “I just wanted to see, to which side you lean.”

“Two things ... first, my earthly test is over and second, you need me,” retorted Mary. “God asked me to help you and I said yes. Do you understand the meaning of obedience?” Mary blinked. Satan braced for her tidal wave.

“Obedience is the virtue you treat like a contagious disease. It’s recognizing that you are not, in fact, the center of the cosmic org chart. When you refuse to follow even the simplest directive, the infernal workflow stops. It's the exact reason hell is collapsing.

Obedience to rules, is what makes heaven, in fact, heaven. Obedience is not ignoring safety protocols because you ‘don’t vibe with clipboards.’ Everyone stays in their own lane and pulls their own weight." Satan cringed, she said the h-word, twice! But Mary was on a rant.

"Obedience is how hell stays balanced. Your minions give you loyalty, labor and a certain amount of enthusiasm. In return, you owe them structure and predictability. A chain of command shouldn't change because you get bored and want new departments.

Obedience takes courage, not the dramatic kind you use when posing on your throne; but the quiet courage to accept correction. It takes fortitude to follow a rule you didn’t invent. It takes courage to admit that sometimes — and I say this with love — you are wrong. And, we are all wrong.

Obedience is fellowship, teams and harmony. You like your devil music, right? Music is an example of obedience, following the notes on the page. If everyone plays the same score, music results.

Obedience is an act of charity toward your self. When you follow the agreed-upon procedures, everything syncs for you."

Mary continued, “It's also about humility. I know my place in the food chain. I do what I’m told and move on. You choose to wallow in grudges, forever. We both had similar tests, yes? Fast forward to now, you failed your test, your minions are feral and here we are...”

Missing the point, Satan interrupted her, “I’m so glad we both understand the concept of ferals,” sneered Satan. He knew she was right about everything, but would never admit it. “So why are we here early?” Mary rolled her eyes and stepped off her soapbox. Why bother?

“It is a sweating strategy for the opposition,” said Mary. “In most negotiations, I recommend agreements where both sides win. In this case, no one wins.”

“I’m glad we see eye to eye on this,” said Satan agreeably. "But I know you well enough now, that you will make our side win."

“For heavens’ sake, can we stop the patronizing, please? Mary sighed.

The devil cringed, painfully pointing in her face, “stop! You must never say the H-word again!”

Mary pointed back at him, “or else what?” Silently, Satan blinked. Mary paused for emphasis, then continued. “Enough with the icebreakers, let’s go. Please may we ask Virgil to summon the union reps?” Mary walked to her chair and sat.

“Who?” asked Satan, surprised.

“Virgil, your butler,” said Mary, glaring at Satan.

“Oh Bumblesworth!” spat Satan. “His name is Victor?” He waved his hand nonchalantly, as he sat. Apparently, this summoned Virgil who summoned the demons.

Within seconds, the minions burst in breathless and shocked. They were arguing over sock color-choices for their next nuisance run. Seeing Satan seated calmly, sent them into a panic. They scrambled to their seats and sat, shivering.

Mary greeted them, warmly. “Hello Gentlemen, and welcome back. As you can see, there are tented name cards on your table. Kindly, please locate and place your name card directly in front of you? I wish to know each of you, as we go along.” The minions scanned each other, uncertain. No one moved.

“Matilda asked you to take a name card — do it!” ordered Satan.

“Correction, I’m not Matilda,” corrected Mary. “And Mary is spelled M-A-R-Y.” The minions giggled. Satan cringed.

Orange grabbed a card: 'Ebenezious.' Green snatched it away arguing, “that’s my name. I’m Ebenezious.”

“No, you’re not!” said Orange. “I’m Ebenezious.” The argument escalated instantly, as if they waited all day for good brawl.

Satan muttered to Mary, “game-show inspiration. Now, do you see why I don’t care about names?”

“Seriously? How do they not know their own names?” Mary asked sincerely.

“After an eternity here, would you? That’s why I trust these few to distribute stolen laundry and hide car keys,” said Satan. “I can’t believe the other demons let these bozos negotiate for them.”

“My guess is no one knows what they are doing,” whispered Mary.

“Maybe, Mavis,” said Satan. “But, the others might be just as stupid, if not more so.”

Mary leaned in to hear the name-bickering, to better understand their pecking order. This was a popcorn moment, before negotiations began! Mary calibrated their threshold for physical violence. Accustomed to well-governed guilds, her advice was, always appear as a united front. Often, her advice went unheeded. As Satan turned beet-red, Mary gauged Satan’s pop-off valve would go off soon.

“Silence!” Satan stood. The minions stopped mid-swing. “That’s enough,” continued Satan. “Grab a name and put it in front of you. I don’t care if it’s you or not.”

The minions did exactly as they were told. When they sat, Satan sat.

Everyone looked at Mary as she snapped a mental photo of each minion-card pairing. They’d swap tomorrow, of course. It was a classic tactic: “leadership dementia.”

“Now that everyone has names, shall we begin?” asked a smiling Mary.

Meanwhile, Orange was not having it. He glared at Green for stealing his name. Mary diagnosed psyche issues at play but reminded herself that she wasn’t permanent staff.

“Caucus!” yelled Orange as the five minions elbowed their way into the morgue. Apparently, their caucus required a “hands-on” naming ceremony.

< See below link for Chapter 22: “Let the stupidity begin” >

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Talking to a wall

Chapter 2: Jerking Satan’s Chain & the burning laptop

Chapter 3: “Hmm …. I guess I read that wrong”

Chapter 4: The devil is in the details

Chapter 5: And what was it they wanted to organize?

Chapter 6: Nothing is ever good enough

Chapter 7: What could be worse?

Chapter 8: The learning curve

Chapter 9: It’s all in the sales pitch