If he could, with a little thought and guidance, make hundreds of millions unhappy, why couldn't he give happiness to a few?
The botching of the spell on himself and Gloria had been his fault. Had it? He hadn't known he was casting a spell until it was too late. Did that mean that Johnson had deliberately let him tangle himself in a degrading mess? Impossible! Johnson always lived up to his promises. But had Johnson promised him happiness? Hale thought back. He hadn't, actually; he had merely told Hale to get all the happiness possible.
But Johnson had understood the reason for giving the Burkes money. Why hadn't he warned Hale that they would be worse off than before?
Hale sat up. What was the last thing Johnson had said before he sailed? "Anything you do, no matter what it is, will increase the misery and torments of the people, because that is how Hell is constructed!"
Had Hale imagined that? He must have. There was no logic in it. Even Lucifer must understand that to appreciate unhappiness you must have something to compare it with. To cause unhappiness, you ought to be able to create joy, or at least contentment. Certainly he could effect misery, but that wasn't the real test of a ruler. Could he create happiness, also?
Well, he could have made Gloria and himself happy, if he'd been told. He put that thought out of his mind, for it raised the suspicion of treachery. He refused to think about the Burkes. After all, he couldn't base his argument on the lives of four insignificant people.
The big thing was his paralyzing the hemisphere. He had done it, but he hadn't seen the magnitude of the results: millions out of work; increase in the relief budget attacked by the economy lobby — and effectively, since they were now so powerful; hunger marches, riots, strikes, lockouts, freezing of credit. Out of all that torment and strife there should have been a little happiness. The isolationists and the economizers should have felt jubilant. But actually they were as frightened as the rest of the country.
If he and Johnson hadn't intervened, the government supporters, at least, would have been happy. Or would they? It seemed that people were unhappy no matter what you did. Then he had heard Johnson correctly? Like a sign shoved before his imprisoned eyes, a single point forced itself into his mind: the basic philosophy of Hell. The damned were in Hell because they deserved to be there, and if they belonged there their function was to suffer torment. But why didn't they know what their crimes were? And what were the crimes that deserved such frightful punishment?
He — Lucifer's partner — didn't know. But Johnson — Lucifer — would know. Lucifer would tell him.
Chapter XXII
GLORIA was tired of reading through the pile of magazines. They were only picture magazines, but at least they had more print on them than anything else she had looked at since they were married. Now she yawned and went back to her maddening knitting.
"Why don't you try to read something worthwhile?" asked Hale.
"I don't know. Those things don't interest me." She shrugged, and went on with as much eagerness as if she were saying it for the first time: "I guess the only thing —"
"Yeah, the only thing you're interested in is us. Damn it, Gloria —" He hesitated.
"Are you angry with me, Billie-willie?"
"No." He wasn't. It was his fault that she would never outgrow adolescent archness, tearfulness, obsession with herself and him; not hers. It was his incompetence — or Johnson's treachery. He could no longer down that last suspicion. Until then he had been unwilling to call Johnson; it would be an admission of weakness.
Hell, he thought, always the damned intellectual; must find excuses, rationalizations for everything. If you want to call up, call up. What if Johnson's sore about the expense? Assert yourself! He picked up the telephone, said, "Get me Mr. Johnson," and put it down to wait.
When the instrument rang, Johnson's voice said: "Hello; that you, William?" Hale's sense of outrage went limp. It was odd how that friendly voice reassured him.
"Yes, this is Hale —"
"I'm very glad you called, William, though it isn't thrifty. Wouldn't a cablegram have done?"
"No!"
"Well, it saves the expense of a cable from this end. I was just about to send you one. Everything's finished here — signed, sealed, and delivered. Worked out splendidly, William. I really must congratulate myself. But now I'm leaving for Asia —"
"Asia!"
"Yes, my boy. Very imperative. The conflict there shows signs of faltering, perhaps stopping altogether. I must correct that. Hesitation now might lead to the collapse of the aggressor nation. How long it will take I have no idea. Perhaps a year, more or less."
Hale nerved himself for the plunge. "Look here: People are in Hell to suffer, aren't they?"
Johnson paused. "What's troubling you now, William?"
"A fundamental point. A damned fundamental one! Can people be happy or can't they? Or must everybody be unhappy, all the time?"
"Individually, a small amount of contentment, for a limited time, is possible. In the aggregate, man mostly suffers. Men may be happy for a while; mankind, never. Why?"
"Then they can't really be happy because they're being punished. Right?"
"Of course."
Hale gripped the telephone, hard. "Why are they being punished?"
Silence.
"What's the sense in it?" Hale pursued angrily. "Answer me!"
Slowly Johnson's voice asked: "You want to know their crimes?"
"Certainly. You don't slap a puppy without letting him know what he's done wrong. How can you punish human beings properly if they don't know that they're being punished, and why?"
"But, William, that wouldn't be efficient. If they knew where they were, they'd be resigned to punishment, and wouldn't suffer so much because they'd expect it. Then again, a lot of the weaker ones, instead of being activated by an instinct of self-preservation, would escape by killing themselves. The way the place is organized now, they suffer more in not knowing, since they torment themselves with futile hopes of happiness."
"All right. But why are they being punished?"
SILENCE again. Then: "I can't tell you that, William."
"You mean you won't!"
"No," the distant voice answered patiently, "I mean I can't. I'm abiding by our agreement faithfully, but the contract doesn't extend beyond this region. I can't tell you the secrets of the other domains; this is the only one I have power over."
Gloria was nudging his elbow, begging to be allowed to say hello to Mr. Johnson. Hale shoved her away.
"You tricked me, damn you! You said you've given me everything I needed for happiness!"
"I did. I fulfilled my promise."
"But you didn't tell me I could work spells. You didn't tell me how they worked, or how to go about it."
"Naturally, William. I let you learn the same way I did — by actual practice. It's much more effective than mere academic explanations. But I did warn you not to be hasty. I can't tell you to do this and not to do that. You wouldn't really have learned. You have to experiment to find out the dangers and limitations of your power."
"Damn you, don't be so glib! That doesn't go with me. You doublecrossed —"
A polite voice interrupted: "I'm sorry, sir; your three minutes are up. Do you want to go on talking?"
"Yes!" Hale shouted.
"No," Johnson's smooth voice answered. "Economy, William. Forget your peeve. It's childish. You can't escape first principles. Good-by, my boy. I'll get in touch with you as soon as I'm settled." And the telephone went dead.
Hale furiously jiggled the studs. When the operator said, "Yes, sir?" he snarled: "Get me that number again!"
"I'm sorry, sir. Your party gave instructions not to be connected with your line. They say they won't answer."