“All right,” said Qrglr, Feaster of Souls. “This is your Soul Cube.”
I looked inside. “It looks like a normal cubicle to me,” I said. “Doesn’t really scream ‘Department of Infernal Affairs’ to me, you know?”
“It’s true, we have had great success getting Soul Cubes adopted as an industry standard, but the idea was ours first!” snapped Qrglr, burbling what smelled like lighter fluid from the largest of his maws.
“Sorry, sorry!” I said, holding up my hands. “It was probably more impressive in 1965, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Interns are confined to their Soul Cubes unless called for,” said Qrglr, gesturing into the space with one slimy, horrific psuedopod. “There, they will work in advancing the cause of the Other Side. This includes both inflicting and receiving suffering.”
“Inflicting?”
“The terminal is equipped with a computer and telephone. Annoy people, steal their personal information for your own gain…use your imagination. As long as somebody somewhere suffers, and every action is detailed in triplicate Form #97-32b, it’s acceptable. Just be sure to meet your quota, or you’ll be slain and consumed by the Beast of Revelations.”
I took a step back. “The Beast is here?”
“It’s a species, not a single organism,” sighed Qrglr with a gout of flame and a belch that sounded like the distant wailing of infants. “Naturally, being in the Soul Cube will also subject you to torment. This torment is used strictly locally, to maintain lower-level and supervisory demons without taking resources from the Great Stream of Agonized Souls that we send south every day on a dedicated fiber optic line.”
I was already beginning to regret my decision to intern the Infernal Affairs. “What kind of torment?”
“Triplicate forms to use the bathroom, lunches stolen from the fridge, random Soul Cube invasions by Glrktr the Taker of Hostages, and of course no pay,” said Qrglr. “Also the coffee sucks. But it’s what you’ve got to do if you want to sell your soul in a buyer’s market.”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 