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Will You Wait?
by Alfred Bester
They keep writing those antiquated stories about bargains with the Devil. You know . . . sulphur, spells and pentagrams; tricks, snares and delusions. They donТt know what theyТre talking about. Twentieth century diabolism is slick and streamlined, like jukeboxes and automatic elevators and television and all the other modern efficiencies that leave you helpless and infuriated.
A year ago I got fired from an agency job for the third time in ten months. I had to face the fact that I was a failure. I was also dead broke. I decided to sell my soul to the Devil, but the problem was how to find him. I went down to the main reference room of the library and read everything on demonology and devillore. Like I said, it was all just talk. Anyway, if I could have afforded the expensive ingredients which they claimed could raise the Devil, I wouldnТt have had to deal with him in the first place.
I was stumped, so I did the obvious thing; I called Celebrity Service. A delicate young man answered.
I asked, УCan you tell me where the Devil is?Ф
УAre you a subscriber to Celebrity Service?Ф
C "No." .
УThen I can give you no information.Ф
УI can afford to pay a small fee for one item.Ф
УYou wish limited service?Ф
УYes.Ф
УVVho is the celebrity, please?Ф
УThe Devil.Ф
"Who?"
УThe Devil. . . Satan, Lucifer, Scratch, Old Nick . . . The Devil.Ф
УOne moment, please.Ф In five minutes he was back, extremely annoyed. УVeddy soddy. The Devil is no longer a celebrity.Ф
He hung up. I did the sensible thing and looked through the telephone directory. On a page decorated with ads for SardiТs Restaurant I found Satan, Shaitan, Carnage & Bael, 477 Madison Avenue, Judson 3-1900. I called them. A bright young woman answered.
УSSC&B. Good morning.Ф
УMay I speak to Mr. Satan, please?Ф
УThe lines are busy. V/ill you wait?Ф
I waited and lost my dime. I wrangled with the operator and lost another dime but got the promise of a refund in postage stamps. I called Satan, Shaitan, Carnage & Bae again.
УSSC&B. Good morning.Ф
УMay I speak to Mr. Satan? And please donТt leave me hanging on the phone. IТm calling from aЧФ
The switchboard cut me off and buzzed. I waited. The coin-box gave a warning click. At last a line opened.
УMiss HoganТs office.Ф
УMay I speak to Mr. Satan?Ф
УWhoТs calling?Ф
УHe doesnТt know me. ItТs a personal matter.Ф
УIТm sorry. Mr. Satan is no longer with our organization.Ф
УCan you tell me where I can find him?Ф
There was muffled discussion in broad Brooklyn and then Miss Hogan spoke in crisp Secretary: УMr. Satan is now with Beыlzebub, Belial, Devil & Orgy.Ф
I looked them up in the phone directory. 383 Madison Avenue, Plaza 6-19oo. I dialed. The phone rang once and then choked. A metallic voice spoke in sing-song: УThe number you are dialing is not a working number. Kindly consult your directory for the correct number. This is a recorded message.Ф I consulted my directory. It said Plaza 6-1900. I dialed again and got the same recorded message.
I finally broke through to a live operator who was persuaded to give me the new number of Beыlzebub, Belial, Devil & Orgy. I called them. A bright young woman answered.
УB.B.D.O. Good morning.Ф
УMay I speak to Mr. Satan, please?Ф
УV/ho?Ф
УMr. Satan.Ф
УIТm sorry. There is no suыh person with our organization.Ф
УThen give me Beыlzebub or the Devil.Ф
УOne moment, please.Ф
I waited. Every half minute she opened my wire long enough to gasp: УStill ringing the DcvЧФ and then cut off before I had a chance to answer. At last a bright young woman spoke. УMr. DevilТs office.Ф
УMay I speak to him?Ф
УV/hoТs calling?Ф
I gave her my name.
УHeТs on another line. V/ill you wait?Ф
I waited. I was fortified with a dwindling reserve of nickels and dimes. After twenty minutes, the bright young woman spoke again: УHeТs just gone into an emergency meeting. Can he call you back?Ф
УNo. IТll try again.Ф
Nine days later I finally got him.
УYes, sir? V/hat can I do for you?Ф