Four years ago, he had been a second-rate computer hacker stuck in a go-nowhere job in Silicon Valley. His obsession with exactness had earned him a reputation as a difficult employee. None of the major firms in the area were willing to hire him. So he slaved in obscurity, designing computer games at a salary that barely covered his living expenses.
Supremely egotistical, Roger never once considered changing his behavior. There was no question in his mind that the world was wrong, not him. Thus, he was resigned to earning half of what he should and being routinely passed over when it came time for promotions. Life seemed to have passed him by.
That all changed in the course of one evening. A group of programmers at work, the closest to what might be loosely defined as his friends, invited Roger along to a party where a well-known Channeler was guest of honor. Imbued with the typical disdain felt by all scientists towards New Age mysticism, Roger treated the entire experience as one big joke. Until the Channeler, a short, stocky woman with piercing black eyes that stared directly into your soul, sank into the deep trance necessary for her to call upon her Spirit Guide.
“Who seeks the hidden knowledge?” The voice that emerged from the woman’s throat was deep and harsh, a man’s voice. A vague thrill of fear swept through Roger as he listened to those guttural tones. In one astonishing instant of epiphany, he transformed from a harsh skeptic to an ardent believer. “Who seeks the hidden knowledge?” the voice repeated, and Roger felt it spoke directly to him.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Whatever revelations the Spirit Guide offered, they made no impression upon Roger. His mind was already buzzing off on tangents far beyond his initial revelation. For once Roger accepted the fact that the occult existed and could be contacted, it opened an entire Pandora’s box of possibilities to be explored. A man with unlimited ambition and ambiguous morality could achieve great things if he dared. And Roger dared.
Within a few days, he assembled an occult library consisting of some of the greatest and most frightening volumes of black magic lore ever written. Many of the books were readily available in cheap paperback format, thus leading to Roger’s second great revelation. Over the centuries, many thousands of people had access to these same works and the spells they contained. But little evidence existed to show that any of those other seekers successfully mastered the powers described.
It was obvious that the spells as written were not enough to summon the forces of darkness. Ever the computer hacker, Roger guessed the solution in an instant. No magician willingly shared secrets with his fellows. All of the spells in the forbidden books were complete. But they each contained minor mistakes and glitches that only the original user knew to be false. It was as if they had been published in code, without the necessary key to unlock their power.
Fortunately, Roger owned the greatest code-breaker of all time, a home computer. He had been using it for cracking access codes and breaking into secret files for years. The magic tomes were just another hacker challenge—one that he accepted eagerly. For a change, the payoff would be worth the trouble.
Defining terms and listing proper names demanded time. Patiently, Roger fed all of the necessary data into the machine. He spent a day revising his software, making minor adjustments wherever necessary. The work wasn’t very hard. Seven nights after his encounter with the Channeler, he was ready to raise his first demon.
The spell he used came from The Key of Solomon, with minor modifications and corrections courtesy of his computer. His magic circle and pentagram followed the instructions of Eliphas Levi, one of the most famous magicians who ever lived. The determination and courage came from Roger.
Slowly and carefully, he recited the summoning spell as reconstructed by his word processing program. Accents were extremely important, and one misspoken word could doom the whole project. Another crucial element in the process was naming a specific demon. Evidently, the summoning spells only worked for distinct supernatural entities. There was no generalized spell to produce a devil. Proper names were a must. Quite handily, the paperback version of The Key of Solomon contained an alphabetical appendix of famous demons. For his first try, Roger settled on Astaroth, the lord of Hell most closely associated with the sciences.
Walking widdershins, counterclockwise and thus unnatural to the order of the universe, Roger began the spell. Once, twice, three times he read through the entire conjuration. Only then did Roger look up from the computer printout. And found himself staring at a creature of nightmare.
It stomped about angrily in the magic circle drawn on Roger’s living-room carpet. Four feet tall, the being resembled a bizarre cross between man and lizard. Along with the proper number of arms and legs, it displayed a multicolored crest that ran down its back from the base of its neck to the end of its spine, where it terminated in a long, sinewy tail some six feet long. Completely nude, it was obscenely male, seemingly in a constant state of arousal.
In contrast to its grotesque torso, Astaroth possessed the head and features of a handsome young man. Long brown hair fell to its shoulders. Its cheeks glowed with good health. Bright white, perfect teeth gnashed in anger, while blue eyes that never blinked surveyed its prison. Only an immense, forked tongue that darted in and out of its mouth made mockery of its seeming humanity. There was no mistaking the devil’s identity. It matched perfectly the description given in several of the black magic texts. This horror was Astaroth, demon from the foulest pits of Hell.
“Who dares disturb my rest?” hissed the creature, in a voice sounding like steam escaping from a kettle. Its foul breath stank of sulfur and corruption. “Are you ready to meet thy end, mortal?”
Roger licked his lips, feeling slightly numb. He actually had not expected the spell to work. It took him a few seconds to gather his wits. Meanwhile, the demon peered closely at the lines of the pentagram, searching diligently for any break in the pattern.
“I name you Astaroth,” said Roger finally, remembering the necessary binding spell. “And by your true and proper name I command your obedience for one task. Hear me and obey.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Astaroth nodded its head in reply. “You know the ritual. What do you want—women, gold… revenge?”
“None of those,” said Roger, on firmer footing now. “Women mean nothing to me. Gold or jewels would raise tax questions I couldn’t answer. Revenge is for impatient fools.”
“Then what do you desire?” asked the demon, sounding curious.
Roger told him. In great detail. Even Astaroth was impressed.
That night saw the beginning of Roger’s empire. His scheme was brilliant in its simplicity. Though the demons he raised were limited in their supernatural abilities, all of them possessed enough skill for the task he required. He used the minions of darkness as an unsuspected business fifth column.
Summoning demons wasn’t particularly difficult once he got over the initial shock of their unearthly appearance. Like any routine task, it soon settled into a familiar pattern of behavior for Roger. One that paid incredible dividends.
Again and again, he sent the monsters out searching for secret information he could use to his advantage. The diabolical creatures made wonderful spies. Invisible to all but other magicians, they eavesdropped on confidential conversations and reported their findings back to Roger. Nor did classified documents present any more of a problem. Within weeks, Roger knew all of the innermost secrets of the major corporations in the area.