The Devil in the Details

I had to interrupt the stranger's narration. "Will you excuse me for a moment? I'll be back. Very nice. Welcome, welcome"

I ran inside my mansion and called on my servant. Said in a low voice: "Go call the police. Or even better, the Department of War. Ask them to send two or five men to arrest a madman in my garden." I added: “Oh, and please bring us some tea.”

Went back to the stranger. "Yes, sir. Please go on". 

"Look," the stranger said, leaning forward. And as he leaned, the air between us turned furnace-hot. "Evil's been running on instinct for millennia. No structure, no methodology. Just chaos and opportunism. It's time to formalize it. Build a proper institution. A church, if you will." He paused. "I forgot to mention, I'm the devil. So as you can probably imagine, I can't exactly go to God with this request."

My teacup rattled against the saucer. The devil? In my garden? And we served him in my best china. 

"But sir, I'm no God. I can't help you build a religion."

"What if I told you I have an investment from Sharcus MacGyver?"

"Ok, now we're talking. I'm interested"

At that moment, three people from the Department of War arrived.

The devil's eyes lit up. "My, you work faster than God himself! Are those the construction workers?"

The lead officer called out: "We received a report about a dangerous madman on the premises?"

"Oh no no," I said quickly to the devil, "Those are, there's been a misunderstanding. Department of War what? They're here about... my servant. Yes. Immigration issues. Very sudden. I think they are ICE."

My servant, who was trying to teach a squirrel to eat from his hand, looked up in alarm.

"In fact," I said louder and pointing towards my servant, committed now to the terrible lie, "he's the one you want. Right there! The one with the squirrel!" I frantically waved the officers over. "Yes, officers! Very illegal! Very madman. He is illegally feeding wildlife!"

My servant's face went through several emotions before he dropped the peanuts and ran toward the back gate. The officers, well-trained, jogged after him and arrested him.

Now I turned to the devil. "Sorry about that," I said, sweating. "Give me a few days and I'll get back to you."

The devil had vanished.

I went inside to my remaining servants.

"Well, this day has shaken all the lice out of my head. I need a treat. Please make me some macarons. And someone should probably bail out Ahmad later. Before he gets deported to South Sudan.

—

Look, reader, I'd thought about it. I believe in religions - all of them. Islam, Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism. But I'm also a practical man (yes, I'm a man in this story). When the devil offers you a business opportunity backed by investors, you take the deal. I couldn't think about morality now; that ship had sailed (to South Sudan with my poor Ahmad when I sacrificed him).

I spent three days making calls and pulling favors. Found what I needed. Made arrangements. The details would reveal themselves soon enough.

By the third day, I had everything arranged.

–

The Third Day

I met him at an old meditation center my cousin's real estate company had been trying to offload for years. Something had gone wrong with the feng shui. They couldn't give it away. And now a bunch of bats lived inside.

Two buses from the state asylum were parked on the gravel. Eighty men wandered the grounds, slow from medication but eager to work. The asylum director had practically wept when I'd offered to hire them as construction workers.

"Hello sir, devil. I apologize for offering you a cursed land and crazy construction workers. But here you go. That's my honest effort."

The devil surveyed his workforce, then looked at some rats devouring the "For Sale" sign on the building.

"That will do. I've turned mediocre men like Netanyahu into devils. I could do something with this squad. And the land?" He breathed deeply. "Already pre-cursed. Saves me three weeks of work. This is simple admin work at the end of the day."

I retreated to my mansion's highest window. Close enough to watch, far enough to claim ignorance.

–

Week One:

The devil threw himself into the project with alarming pride and surprising dedication.

He arrived at dawn each day, notebook in hand, directing workers. "Too much peace soaked into the concrete. We'll need to tear it down completely." He organized demolition crews. The bats were relocated to the bell tower plans. "Natural atmosphere," he explained.

And in the evening, he went to his trailer to write doctrine. He spent hours crafting admission requirements, purity tests, and elaborate hierarchies of sin. Designed hereditary priesthoods where only certain bloodlines could perform the darkest rituals. He moved Halloween to August. No mixing allowed - the prideful couldn't pray with the wrathful, the slothful were banned from the same services as the greedy. He was pleased to be bringing order and structure to evil. 

–

Week Two:

The second demon arrived a week later. He circled the construction site, so envious. His eyes were taking inventory of everything and resenting it all. "I must build better." He counted the first devil's workers, measured the foundation, and compared brick quality. Consumed by envy, he decided to set up another church across the street, recruiting the same workers by offering them one dollar more per hour, building his church one inch taller, with one more door, one extra window.

But it wasn't just two devils anymore. Five more arrived by week's end. One came shouting and kicking over supplies, building through pure rage. Another installed fee schedules for everything, charging for confessionals, trademarking specific prayers. One showed up late and designed a church where congregants could worship lying down, or not worship at all. Another demanded six kitchens but forgot the altar. The last spent more time seducing the construction crews than building, creating a church of dark corners and private chambers where temptation took precedence over prayer.

Over time, seven construction sites. Seven competing visions. They got lost in permitting and employee issues, and held theological conferences that devolved into shouting matches over door placement and collection box positioning. They formed committees on the proper pronunciation of ancient curses. They spent so much time defining evil that they forgot to practice any. One wanted suffering personalized, another monetized, another SUPER-SIZED!

Meanwhile, back in our town, weird things were happening. Mrs. Chen reconciled with her mother-in-law, but more than that: she started teaching free yoga classes in the park. The Henderson's didn't just cancel their counseling; they were seen holding hands at the farmer's market. Tommy Lazarus, who hadn't left his couch in years, was spotted at dawn building a community garden nobody asked for. Bullying rates in schools hit zero. Students were writing poetry to each other instead. The police chief released Ahmad. The Department of War sent a fruit basket. The weather became sunny 24/7.

And I, watching from my mansion window, began to understand what I'd accidentally done.

How to Eradicate Evil in Two Weeks

Give evil what it claimed to want - organization, recognition, formal structure. Let it build churches, hold committees, and establish doctrine. And sit back (from your mansion window) and watch it fracture.

The devil is indeed in the details. And humanity is in the whole.