“Well, if you aren’t going to listen to what I am saying, there’s no point in my staying here!” stormed Sheila, barging out of the room into the haven of her kitchen.

The arguments always seemed to end in that way.

Tom simply stood, fuming in exasperation. “The way I feel just now, if the Devil appeared I would willingly sell my immortal soul to him.”

The was an expanding puff of smoke just in front of him, and as Tom backed away, coughing, an apparition formed itself from the midst of the smoke. As the apparition wafted the smoke from in front of him, he spotted Tom behind the haze.

“Ah, there you are: you rang, sir?” came a soft voice tinged with humour, aping the butler being summoned. “Sorry about the smoke; rather an over-liberal application, but I have no control of the special effects,” he said apologetically.

The voice came from the mouth of a smallish man outlandishly clad in a macabre but rumpled devil costume, complete with a pair of tiny ivory horns curving up from the man’s forehead. They looked a trifle unstable, not sticking well to his skin.

“Who the Hell are you?” Tom demanded of the invader of his home.

“No need to be scared, old boy,” the newcomer assured him. “You simply declared your willingness to sell your soul to the Devil, and here I am; ready to do business with you. I am not Old Nick himself, you will appreciate,” he admitted, “but the boss is a trifle preoccupied in countering these nuisances from Christian Aid, Caritas, Oxfam, and all these other do-gooder organisations that hand out aid and otherwise help many of our potential customers who might be getting ready to do a deal.”

He snorted his disgust.

“Anyway,” he continued, noticing Tom standing there with his open mouth hanging slackly in amazement, “As I say, I’m here to do business, and so if you fancy a contract, simply say the word and I’m your man. We can offer a variety of valuable services, all at the same low price; not even a down payment is required,” he declared as he launched into his sales talk.

“But you are not in the least what I expected!” Tom interjected. “And surely that is just a costume you are wearing; not the real thing as part of your physical body?”

“That?” he looked down at his costume in embarrassment. “Oh, yes; not really worth a mention. It may seem a bit anachronistic, but our market researchers tell us that it is expected by the majority of our potential clients. Who are we to disappoint them? Good customer relations, you see. Well now, what range of services were you contemplating?”

Tom was startled at this switch to business talk.

“Eh? Oh, I don’t knowÖ loads of money, I supposeÖ andÖ ahÖ immortalityÖ ahÖ” he glanced at his visitor in sudden wariness of this minion of evil. “Aren’t you supposed to put limitations on what I can ask for?”

“Naturally,” said the other. “There are various constraints on the practical availability of services, for a number of sensible reasons. We aren’t allowed to upset the normal scheme of things as laid down by the original Planning Authority. For instance, you may want all the money in the world, but this couldn’t be made available all at once. We would have to contract to supply your stated demand in instalments over a considerable period of years, so that present reality is not disturbed overmuch.

As for immortality, there are practical, philosophical and emotional problems involved in altering your appearance every so often to disguise your immortality.

To publicly exhibit your immortality condition would destroy so many concepts of thought and behaviour that our Managing Director, as we sometimes call Him, might lose his official permission to conduct business, at least for a time. We cannot afford to really contemplate such an outcome.

So, what we do about immortality is that we offer to maintain the client in good health for an upper limit of one thousand years ñ near enough to immortality as makes no difference. Most clients decide to reduce their lifespan much earlier, through boredom. We will of course arrange for you to change your location or appearance every twenty-five years.

The same type of limitations applies in other offers. After all, our resources are spread out over a large number of clients, and it is only as current contracts run out that new resources become available. All the money in the world cannot be allocated to thousands of clients at the same time. You will understand the practicalities.”

Tom thought it over carefully, and saw the logic behind this statement.

“I see. Well, I want to live in a good state of health for a thousand years, but free to do what I want, not stuck in a prison or similar restriction; basically, no strings attached, and possess a high proportion of the money supply for the duration of the contract, and to be able to get all the women I want in the same period of the contract, and to be ableÖ”

“Sorry,” the Devil’s representative interrupted, “But the usual three wishes apply to a contract. Resources again, I am afraid. In fact, due to the increase in business in recent centuries, partly owing to the vastly increased population of this world, we are seriously considering reducing our offers to only two requests. The law of supply and demand applies here too, so you may have just joined our community in time, you lucky fellow.”

He went on, “Of course, on the odd occasion we are able to offer slightly more than the three requests, if the potential client is able to give us an option on other souls that he knows of as having potential; but on this planet I have to say that seldom are such options worth our while investigating. It is something to do with the generally perverse nature of man, I believe.”

“Well, I’ll have these three wishes, anyway,” said Tom. “What arrangement have I to make about my soul, and before I forget, shouldn’t there be an escape clause, or something like that, in case I want out?”

“Escape clause??” The fiend put on an exaggerated display of injured innocence. “Escape clause?” then, “Oh, I think I know what you mean. Actually we have a fairly standard for of contract which has been vetted by the Almighty so that there are no legal traps in it such that have been outlawed by the Decision on Business Practices that was given by Himself way back near the Beginning. There is no fine print which might worry you. The contract is clear and simple, with you offering your soul in exchange for the stated three wishes; then there is the bit that interests you, obviously.

The Higher Power has stipulated that as a soul is a very valuable commodity, the vendor must have some opportunity of being able to nullify the contract should he change his mind after signing.

Well, allowing the contract to be nullified too easily after we have spent so much time and effort on arranging to provide the services would be rather a waste of time for us and our Leader, so by permission the form of annulment is worded so the vendor ñ that is you ñ may cancel the contract by posing to the purchaser ñ my Master ñ a question which he is unable to satisfactorily answer.

The maximum number of questions is three, to match the number of wishes to be granted, and the arbiter in all cases is the Creator Himself.”

“And how many clients manage to Ö ah Ö annul the contract?”

“Quite a large number, I understand. By my reckoning, it is something like 0.000621 per cent of our clientele, averaged over the last two centuries.”

“So the odds are extremely large that the client will not succeed?”

“That is a fair assessment of your chances, Tom. It is similar to the chances of you winning any national lottery top prize. Do you fancy the odds? Many people accept them with their lottery ticket.”

Tom had fatalistically assumed that his chances were almost nil, but people do win the lottery top prize from time to time, so his chances were greater than he at first expected. He announced, “Okay, I accept.”

“Fine! I admit to being somewhat of a gambler, myself, but that is an occupational hazard. You have accepted a worthy challenge, my dear fellow.”

The demon materialised a long elaborately inscribed scroll, which he unrolled and laid flat on the nearest chair. As Tom watched in fascination, the friendly fiend waved his hands over the scroll, mumbled a few indecipherable words over the surface, and gradually neat lines of beautiful handwriting appeared on the scroll below a majestic-looking introduction.

The minion of the Evil One glanced at it and, satisfied, passed it to Tom for his perusal. As Tom scrutinised the perfectly legible text, he was handed a pen for his use.

“Red ink instead of blood, these days; so much more convenient,” the creature admitted. “Now, if you would favour us with your esteemed signature, here, and hereÖ. Lovely.”

Ever smiling, the demon waved the scroll gently to assist the drying process, deftly rolled it up, and then it was carefully placed into a large pocket which magically appeared in the side of his outlandish costume.

“There we are then,” he said. “Signed and sealed, in a manner of speaking. A pleasure to do business with you, sir. You would be surprised at the number of times one has to calm down a client who has difficulty in accepting the reality of one’s presence. It is occasions like these that make the rest worth suffering.”

“That’s all very well for you, but when do I get my Ö ahÖ requests?”

“Simple, my dear fellow. Do you do that gambling device known as ëfootball pools’? You do? FineÖ” A thick wad of papers appeared in his hand from somewhere, and he flicked through them, glancing at the headers. “Bingo, Racing, Clerical Errors, Stocks and Shares, legacies, Internet Gaming, ah, here we areÖ football pools! Now, take this coupon” ñ the form he handed over was already filled in, “Add your name and address and any other personal information that may be asked for, and send it in by the next post. It should net you in the region of £2,305,002. You must invest that sum in a company called, let me see,” he fished around for another batch of papers and extracted one. This company is called Science Developments Limited. That company will announce a technical breakthrough and your investment to swell to over a million pounds shortly afterwards. That should give you a good start, and one of my associated will be in touch with you for the next step, as part of our after-sales service.”

Tom nodded, then asked, “What about the immortality, and the Ö other thing? Is there anything special that has to be done, or does it just happen?”

The artfully costumed little man replied, “From your personal point of view, it just happens; but you must surely appreciate that there is a great deal of effort that goes on behind the scenes to provide you with these services.

You have no idea of the amount of paperwork this contract involves me in, on account of all the reports on the arrangements that I have to make; in triplicate. One goes to Head office, one to the Highest for His legals to check for compatibility with the rules, and a filing copy for a permanent record. It is sheer Hell at times, and I often wonder what dreadful things I did as a mortal to deserve this torture. In case you are wondering, all new entrants are deprived of their memory of their past life on arrival. That may encourage you to enjoy your contract while you still have it.”

He laughed again, a trifle uneasily, causing Tom to frown.

!Is that it, the?” Tom asked. “I get what I asked for during that thousand years, and I get three chances to ask a question that your Master can’t answer?”

“That’s it. Naturally, there must BE an answer to the question, or it will be disallowed by the Arbiter. We ourselves have some rights and protections against mortals, you know. But very few limitations on the actual questions, you may be happy to hear; just no tricks like asking the best way to get a transfer to Heaven! Someone asked that, half in jest, and the demon on the spot told him that there wasn’t a way.

However, some funny man on the Judge’s staff took the joke a bit farther. He popped in to ask the victim if he would like to repent. The man said ëyes’ and the angel got him transferred to Heaven! Old Horny was hopping mad, and now we refuse to accept any more like that.”

He halted his tale, and changed his tack.

“My, here I am chatting away, and there are probably other clients yelling for service. I must be off. Incidentally, in case you were worrying about me wasting your time, I have been holding time static while we are engaged in business; and very pleasant it has been, too. Good day to you, old boy.”

With a pop of air filling the vacant space where the demon had been standing, the vision vanished, and Tom became aware of all the minor sounds which had been absent all the time this fiendish apparition had been with him. He shook his head to clear it, wondering whether it had really happened. Only his bad temper had urged him to say what he had to the demon, his ego bolstered by the bravado brought on by fear.

It felt real to him at the time, and surely one couldn’t imagine a peculiar conversation like that? There was one simple way of finding out.

He straightened himself, marched through to the kitchen, and bearded his wife in her den.

She was standing at her shiny stainless steel sink unit, looking out of the window above at their carefully planned and maintained garden. On either side of her were ranged her cooker, freezer, dishwasher and fridge, with the washing machine tucked unobtrusively in a corner. She always gave the impression of returning to an armoury whenever she retreated here from an argument. Often, if he looked in the door, she could be found with her food-mixer or mincer in electric action, or marching the lino-covered floor with her floor polisher, marshalling her forces against any invader.

Now he charged into her domain.

“Sheila! This whole argument is ridiculous. We shouldn’t be quarrelling over such molehills. Let’s drop the whole thing and forget about it for now. We can chat it over sensibly when we feel like discussing inconsiderable trifles, but at the moment we don’t want to ruin our love for each other by arguing so bitterly. Why don’t we just kiss and make up?”

She whirled, her mouth drooping open, with tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

“Oh, Tom! If only you had said that long ago. I didn’t really mean to be so nasty to you, but I was terribly upset and you were handy to take out my stress on. I do still love you so much!”

She ran over to him, sobbing in her joy, and he held her close in his welcoming arms, running his hand over her head, caressing her long hair.

Well, step one is a success, he told himself.

It took Tom several days to even start thinking about other women, for he wondered if the devilish influence had been at work, or whether hi change of attitude had been the real turning point in his relations with his wife. His approaches to other women he encountered were welcomed, but he didn’t push himself on them, for he much preferred his wife’s company and gave up deliberately chasing women.

As for the financial side, as he had that football pools coupon already filled out, he posted it on the basis that it wouldn’t do him any harm if the promise did not come up to expectations. To his delight and astonishment, he duly received a cheques for the sum stated by the demon.

He immediately disregarded all offers of assistance with his windfall from the promoters, and instead searched out a broker with a good reputation, to invest his cash in accordance with the instructions he had received on the day he signed his contract.

When he asked for the entirety to be invested in Science Developments Limited, the broker tried to dissuade him from that course of action, but Tom insisted. The broker was impressed enough by Tom’s determination to invest in this company’s shares that he shuffled some of his clients’ shares about and gave them small investments in this obscure company. He was rather pleased with this calculated risk when suddenly the shares rocketed in value at the announcement of a technical breakthrough made by their scientists in the field of battery power. The new battery concept meant a lightweight electric battery design that would boost the electric motor vehicle industry, and that was enough to excite investors. A large market would be assured for the new battery.

Tom found himself a millionaire, on paper at least, and was about to start cashing in when he encountered another small man in the broker’s outer office where customers waited to be seen. The man held up a hand as Tom went to head for the inner sanctum, and announced, “I am from your soul broker”. The words sounded like ësole broker’, so did not appear unusual to anyone listening, but Tom knew. The man went on, “Your instructions are to cash in your shares and buy into Wearepure instead, which is a firm engaged in water purification systems. Do it right away, today.”