The Gates

XII In Which We Meet, Once Again, the Unfortunate Nurd, Who Is About to Take Another Unexpected Trip

NURD, THE SCOURGE OF Five Deities, had been devoting a lot of thought to his recent experiences. Given that he didn’t have a whole lot else to think about beyond whether or not Wormwood was looking even mangier than usual, or, “My, isn’t it flat around here?” it was quite a welcome distraction.

Among the subjects under consideration was his size. Was he, Nurd wondered, very, very small, small enough to be crushed by what he now believed was a mechanism of some kind? He had never really speculated about this before, since demons came in all shapes and sizes. Indeed, some of them came in more than one shape or size all by themselves, such as O’Dear, the Demon of People Who Look in Mirrors and Think They’re Overweight, and his twin, O’Really, the Demon of People Who Look in Mirrors and Think They’re Slim When They’re Not.

A great many demons were little more than ethereal beings, wisps of nastiness that floated around like bad thoughts in a dark mind. Some chose physical forms just so that they could hold on to things, which made tea breaks much more satisfying. Others were given form by the Great Malevolence himself, for his own nefarious purposes. [19]

Nurd wasn’t privy to the Great Malevolence’s plans for the conquest of Earth. Few were, except those closest to him. The Great Malevolence had been stuck in Hell for an extraordinarily long time, marooned in that desolate place with only his fellow demons for company. He had managed to carve out a kingdom for himself, but it was a kingdom of rock and dirt and pain. He could hardly be blamed for wanting to get away from it.

The Great Malevolence was extremely angry, and unfathomably cruel, and what the Great Malevolence hated more than anything else was people. People had trees, and flowers, and dragonflies. They had dogs, and footballs, and summers. Most of all they were free to do pretty much whatever they liked where they liked and, as long as they didn’t hurt anybody else along the way, or break the law, life wasn’t bad. The Great Malevolence wanted nothing more than to bring that to an end, preferably an end that involved wailing and screaming, and big fires, and demons with pitchforks poking people where they didn’t like being poked.

Even though Nurd was a demon, the Great Malevolence frightened him a lot. If Nurd had been the Great Malevolence, he would have been afraid to look at himself in a mirror, so frightening was the Great Malevolence. The Great Malevolence probably didn’t even have a reflection, Nurd thought. Any mirror would be too scared to show it.

Nurd stared out at the Wasteland. Anywhere had to be better than here. If he could make his way to the Place of People, then he could rule it in his own manner, and perhaps be a little nicer about it than the Great Malevolence, once he’d got some of the fireballs and general terrifying of the population out of his system.

But he would need to be ready for his journey, if it were to happen again. He tried to remember the sensations he had experienced as he was dragged from one world to the next, but couldn’t. He had been so confused, and so terrified, that the journey was over before he’d realized what was happening, and then someone had, of course, dropped a heavy object on him, and that had been the end of that.

He did his best to recall whether he had been given any indication that he was about to pop out of existence in one place and pop up in another not very long afterward, and decided that the tips of his fingers had begun to itch something terrible in the seconds before he went off on his unanticipated trip.

Actually, just like they were itching now.

Oh.

Oh dear.

Nurd barely had time to concentrate on making himself significantly larger before there was a loud pop and he vanished from his throne.

As Professor Hilbert suspected, the Large Hadron Collider had, through only some fault of its own, managed to open a hole between our world and somewhere else entirely. It wasn’t quite a black hole, since it obeyed only some of the rules of a black hole while rudely ignoring others, which would have greatly irritated Einstein and other scientists like him. Neither was it quite a wormhole, although it obeyed some of the characteristics of a wormhole too. Nevertheless, it would do nicely until a black hole or wormhole came along.

Here are some things that are worth remembering about black holes, should it ever seem likely that you’re going to encounter one. The first is that if, at some time in the future, a group of nice scientists in white coats suggest that you-yes, you!-have been chosen as the lucky candidate to enter a black hole and find out what’s going on at the other side, it would be a very good idea for you-yes, you!-to find something else to do, preferably far away and not involving, even peripherally, black holes, space suits, or scientists with an unsettling gleam in their eyes.

Perhaps you’ve already worked this out for yourself, being a clever person. After all, if sticking a head, or any other part of oneself, into a black hole is such a great idea, then scientists would be queuing up to do it, instead of tapping someone else on the shoulder and inviting him to have a go.

Which brings us to the second thing worth noting about black holes: your life is likely to be very short, although spectacularly eventful, if you go messing about with one. There may well be all kinds of quite fascinating stuff at the other side of a black hole, but you’re unlikely to be able to tell anyone what it is. The gravitational force of a black hole is subject to quite dramatic changes, so just as you’re thinking to yourself, “Wow, a black hole. How interesting and swirly it is. Wait until I tell those nice scientists all about it!” your body will be ripped to shreds and then compacted to a point of infinite density.

Which will probably hurt a lot, although not for very long.

Figure 1: you in a black hole

Then again, you might be lucky enough to plummet into a supermassive black hole, where the gravitational changes are a little gentler. In that case you’ll still be torn apart, but more slowly, so you might have time to come to terms with what it feels like before you are crushed to that point of infinite density.

It all depends upon the sacrifices one is willing to make for the sake of science, really. It’s your choice. Frankly, I’d find a less risky job, if I were you, like being an accountant, or cleaning the teeth of great white sharks with a toothpick and some floss.

As it happened, Nurd, the Scourge of Five Deities, was learning a great deal about the nature of not-quite-black holes since he was, at that moment, plunging through one. He really didn’t want to be, either, because he felt that no good was going to come of it. He was pretty certain that he was falling, even though he had no sensation that he was doing so, and he was rapidly approaching a point of light in the distance that didn’t seem to be getting any closer, which was very confusing. He did his best to pull himself back in the direction from which he had come, like a swimmer kicking against a strong tide, but here is another interesting thing about black holes: the more you struggle to escape the force of one, the quicker you’ll reach that whole part about infinite density, and crushing and stuff, due to time and space being all muddled up. [20]

The awareness that, even though he was trying to move away from whatever he was falling toward, he was still approaching it with increasing rapidity, gave Nurd a headache. Fortunately he was distracted from it by the feeling that every atom of his demonic form was being stretched on an infinite number of tiny racks, each of which had helpfully been fitted with a selection of very sharp pins. Then that particular pain came to an end, to be replaced by the way a banana might feel if someone peeled it, briefly balanced it upright on a table, and then dropped a rock on it.

Just as Nurd began to think that this was the end for him, all the pain stopped, and he felt something firm beneath his feet. His eyes were squeezed shut. He opened one of them carefully, then another, and then a third, which he kept for special occasions.

He was standing in the middle of a road, and around him metal objects were whizzing by at what seemed like great speeds. One of them, he noticed, was sleek, and red, and pretty.

I don’t know what that is, said Nurd to himself, but I want one.

He heard a sound behind him. It was very loud, like the bellowing of some great beast.

Nurd turned just in time to be hit full in the face by a decidedly large version of one of the metal objects.

Samuel was staring out of his bedroom window. He had not yet changed out of his pajamas, and was reflecting on what had taken place during the night. The area beneath his bed had been a little slimy when he checked it once dawn came, but other than that there was no sign of the demon that had, until recently, been occupying the space.

He was wondering if the demon might return, despite its protestations to the contrary, when a figure with greenish skin, a large head, and pointed ears, wearing a red cloak and big boots, appeared briefly on the street below in a flash of blue light. The figure looked about, its attention caught by a passing car, and then was promptly hit by a truck. There was another flash of blue light, and the figure was gone. The truck driver stopped, climbed out of his cab, tried to find a body, and then quickly drove off.

Samuel considered telling his mum, but decided that it was probably better just to add it to the list of Things Nobody Was Likely to Believe.

At least, not until it was too late.

Back in the Wasteland, Wormwood was staring suspiciously at the throne, the crown, and the scepter. Once again, all three tempted him, but after what had happened the last time, he didn’t want to be caught waving them around if, and when, Nurd returned. Say what you liked about Nurd (and Wormwood had said most things, under his breath), but he wasn’t entirely stupid. It had not escaped his attention that he had rematerialized after his earlier disappearance to find a mangy demon waving his scepter and wearing his crown. Once Nurd had recovered from the shock of what had occurred, Wormwood had earned an extra bump for each offense, and one more between the eyes for good luck. Wormwood now decided to bide his time, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment when, not very long after he had vanished, Nurd reappeared, this time looking like an insect that had just been hit by the largest swatter ever created.

“So how did that go, Master?” asked Wormwood.

“Not terribly well, actually,” replied Nurd.

He was about to faint when his fingers and toes began to tingle again. “Oh no,” said Nurd, who was hurting in so many places that he was wondering if he’d somehow acquired new body parts simply so they could ache. “I’ve only just-”

Then he was gone again.

Samuel’s bedroom was suddenly lit by a blue flash, which was followed by a loud pop and a smell like eggs burning. Dank mist filled the room. Samuel dived to the floor, closely followed by Boswell, and peered over the edge of his bed.

Slowly the mist began to clear, revealing a green-skinned figure in a red cloak. The figure had one leg raised, and his head covered with his hands, as if he were expecting to receive a nasty blow at any moment. When the blow didn’t come, he peered out cautiously from between his fingers, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, that makes a pleasant change,” he said, and started to relax. Unfortunately, at that moment Boswell decided to make his presence known, and gave a bark, causing the new arrival to leap onto a chair and cover his head again.

“What are you doing?” asked Samuel from behind the bed.

“I’m cowering,” said the figure.

“Why?”

“Because every time I shift into this world, I get hurt. Frankly, it’s starting to become wearing.”

Samuel stood. Boswell, sensing that the figure on the chair wasn’t half as threatening as it had at first seemed, experimented with a growl, and was pleased to see the green-skinned personage tremble.

“Didn’t you just get run over by a truck?” asked Samuel.

“Is that what it was?” said Nurd. “I didn’t get time to exchange pleasantries with it before it knocked me into another dimension. The cheek!”

“What are you?”

“I’m a demon,” said Nurd. “Nurd, the Scourge of Five Deities.”

“Really?” said Samuel skeptically. The demon’s clothes looked tatty, and Samuel didn’t think that demons climbed on chairs to get away from small dogs. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m a saucepan,” hissed Nurd testily. “Of course I’m a demon.” He coughed. “I’m actually a very important demon.”

He looked at Samuel, who arched an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, I give up,” said Nurd. “No, I’m not important. I live in a wasteland with an irritating entity called Wormwood. Nobody likes me, and I have no power. Is that better?”

“I suppose,” said Samuel. “Who sent you here?”

“Nobody sent me. I just got… dragged here. Very uncomfortably, I might add.”

Nurd glanced at Boswell. “What’s that?”

“It’s my dog. His name is Boswell. And I’m Samuel.”

Boswell wagged his tail at the sound of his name, then, remembering that he was supposed to be ferocious, showed some teeth and growled again.

“He doesn’t seem very happy to see me,” said Nurd. “Then again, nobody ever is.”

“Well, you did pop up a little unexpectedly.”

Nurd sighed. “Sorry about that. Not my fault. Would you mind if I stopped cowering now? I’m beginning to get a cramp.”

Samuel had a good instinct for people. He could tell a good person from a bad one, often before the person in question had even spoken. Although his experience of demons was rather more limited, something told him that, if Nurd wasn’t exactly good- and, being a demon, it was hardly part of the job description (“Wanted: demon. Must be good…”)-he was not entirely bad either. He was just himself, like most ordinary people.

“All right,” said Samuel, then added, because he’d once heard someone say it in a police movie, “but no sudden movements.”

“Does shooting off into another dimension count?” asked Nurd.

“No.”

“Fine, then.” Nurd sat on the chair, and looked around the room. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“You decorate it yourself?”

“My dad did most of it.”

“Oh.”

They were silent for a time.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look very happy,” said Samuel.

“I think I’m in shock,” said Nurd. “You try being wrenched from one dimension to another, then being hit by a truck, sent back home again for long enough to start hurting, and then have the whole thing begin all over. It’s not conducive to a healthy outlook on life, let me tell you.”

Nurd put his very large chin in his hands and frowned.

“Anyway,” he said, “it’s not like you look overjoyed either.”

“I’m not,” said Samuel. “My dad’s left us, my mum cries in the evenings, and I think the woman down the road is trying to kill me. Are you sure she didn’t send you?”

“Quite sure,” said Nurd, and for the first time in many years, he felt sorry for someone other than himself. “That’s not very nice of her.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Well, like I said, I live in a wasteland. There’s nothing to see, nothing to do, and Wormwood and I have run out of things to talk about. In fact, this interdimensional travel has brightened up my days no end, or it would have if I didn’t keep being injured by hard metal objects. This is such an interesting place.”

He moved to the window and gazed out. “Look,” he said, and there were eons of longing and sadness in his voice. “You have fluffy white clouds, and sunshine. What I wouldn’t give to be able to see sunshine every day.”

Samuel picked up a bag of jelly beans from his nightstand.

“Would you like a sweet?”

“A what?”

“A sweetie. They’re jelly beans.”

Tentatively, Nurd reached into the bag and came out with a red bean.

“Oh, those ones are lovely,” said Samuel, popping an orange one into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Nurd followed his example, and seemed pleasantly surprised by the result.

“Ooooh, that’s good,” he said. “That’s very good. Fluffy clouds. Jelly beans. Big metal things that move fast. What a world you live in!”

Samuel sat down on his bed. Leaving the window, Nurd returned to his chair.

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” asked Samuel.

Nurd looked shocked. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a demon.”

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean that I’m bad,” said Nurd. A piece of jelly bean had stuck to his teeth, and he worked at it with a long fingernail. “I didn’t ask to be a demon. It just happened that way. I opened my eyes one day, and there I was. Nurd. Ugly bloke. No friends. Even other demons don’t care much for my company.”

“Why? You seem all right to me.”

“I suppose that’s it, really. I’ve never been very demonic. I don’t want to torture, or wreak havoc. I don’t want to be frightening, or terrible. I just want to potter along, minding my own business. But they told me I had to do something destructive or I’d be in trouble, so I tried to find a role that wouldn’t attract too much attention, or cause a lot of bother to people, but all those jobs were taken. You know, there’s a demon who looks after the little bit of toothpaste that you can’t squeeze out of the end of the tube, even though you know it’s there and there’s no other toothpaste in the house. There’s even a demon of shyness, or there’s supposed to be. Nobody’s ever seen him, so it’s hard to know for sure. I quite fancied a job like that.

“Eventually, some of the other demons just got irritated with me trying to muscle in on their action, and I was banished. It all seemed pretty hopeless, and then suddenly I started popping up here. I just feel like I could make something of myself in this world. There are so many opportunities.”

“This world is hard too,” said Samuel, and there was something in the boy’s voice that made Nurd want to reach out to him. The demon picked up the bag of jelly beans, and offered one to Samuel. He picked a green one.

“You can have another too,” he said to Nurd.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Nurd tried a black one. It tasted a bit funny, but it was still better than anything else he had ever eaten, except for that first jelly bean.

“Go on,” said Nurd. “You were saying?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Samuel.

“No, it does. I want to know. Really.”

So Samuel told him. He spoke of his mother and his father, and of how his dad had left and maybe it was Samuel’s fault, and maybe it wasn’t. He spoke of how the world doesn’t listen to children, even when it should. He spoke of Boswell, and of how he would be lost without the little dog for company.

And Nurd, who had never had a mother and father, and who had never loved or been loved, marveled at the ways in which a feeling so wonderful could also leave one open to so much pain. In a strange way, he envied Samuel even that. He wanted to care about someone so much that it could hurt.

Thus the boy and the demon sat as the day grew brighter, talking of places seen and unseen, of hopes and fears. The only shadow cast upon their conversation was Samuel’s description of the events in the Abernathys’ basement, which made Nurd uneasy, even as he struggled to understand what they might mean. It sounded to him as though there might be other demons in this world, demons with a plan. Well, Nurd had plans of his own, assuming he could find a way to stay in the world of men permanently and not simply spend the rest of his existence whizzing painfully between dimensions.

At last, Nurd’s fingers began to tingle again.

“I have to go,” he said, with regret. He smiled, a movement so unfamiliar that at first his muscles struggled with it. “It really has been very nice talking to you. When I work out how to rule this world, I’ll make sure that you’re well looked after.”

Just as Nurd was about to vanish, Samuel thrust the bag of jelly beans into his hand, so that when Nurd arrived back in the Wasteland he might have something with which to cheer himself and Wormwood up.

Nurd reappeared on his throne. He opened his eyes to find Wormwood staring anxiously at him.

“What’s wrong with your face?” asked Wormwood.

Nurd tested his mouth with his fingers.

“Wormwood,” he said, “I appear to be smiling. Here, have a jelly bean…”