The Contract

Chapter 8 - Issue

September 5th, 8:09am

If ever there was a technology invented by humans that would enable people of the present to commune with people of the past, I would immediately meet with the me back then. The me who made an irrational decision to sign a contract with the Devil. I had been blinded by a burning, insatiable rage that led me into signing a contract that I didn't know any of the details of. Stupid, wasn't it? It was laughably stupid now that I thought about it from a calmer perspective.

If I were to go to the Devil's class, I would be close to ten minutes late. His alter persona as "Mr. Isaiah" would probably give me a telling off if today would play out as how I remembered correctly. It may have been a repeated day - twice, but I think that would be likely to happen if I zoned out in his class again. I fought the urge to head off to the nearby basketball court to practice my shot and steeled my nerves as I walked toward the lecture hall.

When the name 'Satan', or the 'Devil' came to mind, words like crafty, treacherous, and evil stood out to me. He may have said his intentions were to aid me in preventing my father's death against that fiendish Adro, and I may have believed him at the time, but who was I to say for certain that he wouldn't double-cross me in the near future? I was still immersed in my thoughts even as I passed by the many students in the study block, several of them looking strangely at me - probably because I had been wearing sunglasses indoors the whole time I had been walking.

I decided to take the longer route to my microeconomics lecture hall. I needed some time by myself for now - needed to recollect all the loose thoughts floating about in my head. As confused as I was, I had to get this over and done with so that my father's life would be free from jeopardy.

Unease. That was the correct word to describe what I was feeling in every molecule of my body the deeper I walked in campus. Every step I took made my feet feel wobbly and my head throb ever so slightly. Every breath I took sent chills running up and down my spine; making my lungs burn icily. I was still wearing my sunglasses in an effort to protect my identity. My eyes swept every direction with the fear that my father would suddenly pop up bruised and bloody with Adro trailing behind him.

As I finally approached the door of my microeconomics class after nearly half an hour, I was unsure whether or not to enter, given the fact that the lecturer - Isaiah, his false moniker for 'Satan' - kicked me out of his class the last time when I didn't bother with the lesson; instead I daydreamed and got lost in my thoughts. I removed my sunglasses before taking a deep breath; as I pushed open the door, the lecture suddenly swerved to a stop - the redheaded lecturer and all the students in the class were staring right at me.

Discomfort was now the sensation that overwhelmed every fiber of my being. I never liked being the center of attention, but something about this time felt very, very odd. The first time I had experienced this day, everyone was silent as though they were at a funeral and paying their respects. The second time, not a single soul paid any attention to me; just like the first time, they were focused at copying down notes from the board. But today. Today was different.

"Do you know what time it is?" Mr. Isaiah's eyes shined coyly behind a tight-lipped expression.

I bowed apologetically.

Whispers were abundant in the air; I heard a lot of faint voices chanting my name as I tried to find an empty seat. I remembered their tone; it was that of gossip. Trying to drown out the incessant murmurs that drifted throughout the air, I forced myself to look around for an empty seat before my nerves gave out.

Again, reminiscent to the time I was late for class and I couldn't find a seat, a girl's voice called for me, offering the open seating beside her - I knew who it was without even bothering to look. This felt vaguely familiar, as usual. As amiable as Melia was, I couldn't help but feel wary at the notion of befriending her.

Something about her just seemed very out of place; be it the way her eyes seemed to suck your soul in, or the fact that her skin was so perfect it could almost reflect light - you tell me. She was just too perfect of a human being, and that made me question if she was even a human at all. That, and the fact that she casually beat me - the top basketball recruit in the nation - whilst dressed in movement restricting denim overalls.

"Hey." Melia's eyes twinkled brightly as I took a seat beside her, attempting to disguise my suspicions by putting on a rather calm facade as a mask.

"Hey." I hesitantly replied, unsure of what to say to her. Had it been a regular day, I would have been embarrassed and twitchy at the thought of sitting next to a girl so flawless and pristine, but I wasn't now. The lecture was progressing along very slowly; I felt as though I was trapped in the slowly dripping sands of an hourglass, trickling bit by bit as the time passed. Looking down at my watch only to realize I didn't wear a watch, and realizing that the girl sitting beside you was observing your every move was unsettling.

It seemed as though the Devil himself was being true to his identity; he was portraying a college lecturer with utmost diligence. You wouldn't be able to tell who he was even if he said he was Satan. As he further droned on about how the price elasticity of demand and supply was essential in us - the consumers - buying goods and services, I fiddled with my thumbs and wondered if Adro was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His patterns had already varied a notch from the last time we met. Instead of driving his white sedan over two times - the first being the time where he impersonated a house inspector and I remembered chasing after him only to see nothing but a white sedan at the barren road; the second being the time where he drove past me in the midst of dawn, splashing mud water all over my legs.

This day, however, was different. I was on my guard and tried to stay as vigilant as possible, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary today; discounting my faulty assumption earlier this morning, where I stopped the wrong car in the middle of the road. It wasn't hard to pinpoint the differences and similarities between the previous two repeated days as I compared them, but today was beginning to feel unlike.

"Can someone tell me the difference between substitute and complementary goods? I won't take 'I don't know' for an answer." Isaiah, the lecturer in front grinned as his eyes scanned the whole diameter of the room; his gaze finally settling upon my direction. There was a feeling in my gut that told me he was intentionally picking me out of the class, though I wasn't sure exactly what for.

"You there, sitting on the far right wing in the fifth row, seven seats from the wall - I'd like you to embark on this question. I'll run a rule where if you guys want extra credit marks for your final grade, you volunteer to answer, starting now." His finger pointed at me as the class groaned with the fact that if they wanted free marks, they'd have to participate more often.

"Well, you see, Isaiah, the difference between substitute and -" I started.

"Mr. Isaiah." He cut me off rather brusquely, then motioned for me to continue.

"Well, you see, Mr. Isaiah," I put in further emphasis on his name, and was starting to get mildly irritated. "The difference between substitute and -"

"Stand up when you're answering my questions; that goes for all of you sitting in my class." The man interrupted me once more, and I heaved a long sigh before forcing myself to stand.

I didn't like teachers or lecturers like these, who always tried to uphold traditional teaching styles like formalities and standing up to answer; I preferred those who treated us equal. Seemed to me that this 'Mr. Isaiah" was a complete variation of what the students said he was last semester - he was still lenient with giving marks away, I suppose, and he still encouraged his students to participate more often. But I don't recall those who were taught by him saying that he was a by-the-book lecturer. Then again, he was the Devil; I'd have expected him to be stricter with his policies. Or maybe he wanted us all to fail in the future. Who knows what he's thinking right now? I for one definitely had no clue.

"The difference between substitute and complementary goods is that substitute goods can be viewed as a replacement for the original goods, whilst complements are what comes along with the purchase. Take apples and pears for example; if the price rises for apples, the demand for the pears will rise as consumers would want to buy the cheaper option - in this case, the substitute good, which are the pears. For complements, however, it's something like an Iphone X and its battery charger; both of them come in conjunction with one another." I rattled off what I knew regarding this microeconomics concept that I had already gone through the first time I attended this lecture.

Mr. Isaiah beamed at the front. "Good job, whatever your name is!"

There was not a chance in the world where he was faking to not know what my name was; we had met prior to this, and he had a class register with every student's name on it on his desk.

"You get a couple more marks for your final grade. Everyone needs to learn from him; he's a good example of a student who studies his notes before attending lectures. May I ask you to come up here to introduce yourself to the rest of the class?" I could see a tiny glint in his right eye - as though he was enraptured at the idea of my fears.

Feeling as though a swelling knot was beginning to form in the pit of my stomach as I looked back at the vivid recollection that happened the first time I attended the lecture, I didn't want to introduce myself again. The last time I introduced myself to the class, everybody looked at me coldly for a few moments without saying anything except for the lecturer and Melia. It was as though either I didn't exist to them, or they just didn't bother. To add on to that, I also had a strange thought that someone had been controlling every students' moves at that point in time, as they suddenly started applauding in unison nearly ten seconds after I introduced myself.

Everyone had their eyes locked upon me as I made my way to the front of the lecture hall; my anxiety starting to get the better of me and my legs got more numb with each step I took. The bizarre encounter I had experienced before in this same lecture hall as I presented myself was an ominous one; at that very moment, it felt as though no one in the lecture hall had a soul - even a conscience for that matter. Rather, they seemed like puppets in a grand show designed with me in the spotlight. I don't know why, but that's just how I perceived it that time.

Nervousness and foreboding were two perfect words to describe my feelings of the now. Nervous to speak, to present myself in front of nearly fifty or more students. Foreboding about the queer, unorthodox reaction drawn from the crowd in my earlier experience.

Satan himself was looking at me expectantly as I stood at the front of the hall in awkward silence. I made eye contact with Melia from the corner of my eye; she gave me a reassuring smile. That smile alone would've spurred me on with brimming confidence before, but now I was extremely suspicious about her. There was something about her that made me think that she might just have a clue on the issues revolving around Adro, my father, the Devil and I.

I sucked in a deep breath before exhaling a heavy sigh. Might as well get this troubling thing over and done with.

"Hi, my name's Bradley Porter. Some of you may know me, some of you may not. I plan to play basketball professionally - I sincerely hope to get along well with each and every one of you."

To my surprise, everyone seemed to perk up. Applause was abundant in the air, a distinct contrast from the previous time I introduced myself to the class. I should have felt relieved that people were receiving and accepting of me - I had been discriminated for being a mixed color ever since I was a child. But no, I wasn't at ease. Not a single bit.

I asked Satan if I could use the washroom. Hilarious, wasn't it? A simple college student asking a powerful, immortal deity if he could be excused from the Devil's class. The corridors were painfully empty for some odd reason despite the fact that it was the first day of classes with the beginning of this new semester. Toren's campus was never deserted, even in the dead of the night. There would always be these bunch of students laughing obnoxiously in the hallways. Or some student frantically revising notes for the next day's exam in the dim lights of the library.

The cooling water that flowed on and over my fingers provided both a sense of comfort and relief as I splashed my water to invigorate my senses. I had been very out of it since I left my house this morning. As frighteningly normal as today was, I couldn't help but feel circumspect with every movement I made.

The gray clouds masking the sun rays could be seen outside the window; threatening to clog up the sky with an eventual downpour. I looked at my phone hesitantly. On one hand, I was tempted to call home to see if Adro had already meddled his way with my family. On the other hand, we never really called each other except for emergencies. If nothing had been going on and I gave them a call, they would chalk it up to the fact that I was either just fooling around or gotten cuckoo.

The halls were still empty as I left the washroom. A deft glance at my phone told me that the microeconomics lecture would end in seven minutes. Seven more minutes until everyone left the class and I would get a chance to talk things out with the Devil. I decided that I'd just wait it out until class ended, as I didn't really feel comfortable staying in the lecture hall with everyone staring intently at me. Each day I had spent in campus before must've been an anomaly, because today was the only time things actually went correctly given my reputation.

As one of the top basketball recruits in the nation, I appreciated the solace in swerving away from the oncoming spotlight that went the way of the most reputable stars. Partly because of my natural personality - I never liked being the center of attention. Even among my siblings. But I couldn't help but consider the whole scenario rather strange. This thought constantly floated adrift in my mind no matter what I did; be it play in a game of basketball or eating a meal.

Few contract agents had approached me. I don't think any of them actually came in the past month, for some odd reason. I had always assumed it was because my family was constantly on the move, but thinking about it from another person's perspective, it was illogical. Fame and status followed no matter where you went. A celebrity in the United States would also be recognized as a celebrity in New Zealand. Criminals would still have their names preceding them wherever they go.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I snapped out of my reverie and looked around me. Students were chatting away, walking to their respective directions. The corridor was suddenly teeming with life once more; a far cry from earlier when I had headed to the washroom. Huh. Seven minutes sure as hell made a huge difference.

The source of the voice who had just asked me what I was thinking was from none other than Melia. Her blond, wavy locks of hair shielded her right eye from the fluorescent lighting above, casting a shadow that aligned with what I thought of her - mysterious and somewhat enigmatic.

Also, I really didn't know why she constantly tried to start a conversation with me. I may have been embarrassed the first few times simply because I was extremely shy and rarely socialized with other people; leading to a rather large phobia of screwing up on what to say. But the way she constantly talked to me didn't feel like she was trying to befriend me. Rather, it felt as though she had an agenda under her sleeve. A purpose to get closer to me for her own benefit. Was it the possible prospect of dating a future NBA star that she found so enticing? If not, what was it, then?

"Why're you always trying to talk to me?" The question I had been mulling over ejaculated out of my mouth in a sudden blurt.

Her demeanor remained serene and tranquil, as though unfazed by my direct, sharp inquiry.

"What do you mean by always, Brad? We've only met today, for crying out loud." Her chuckle was once thought of to me as adorable the first time we met. Like an angelic voice. But now it felt like she was trying to belittle me. She was acting as though she knew what I had been thinking of like the back of her hand, like she knew the things I craved knowledge of but didn't. And that her opening questions always came with a small smile. The same smile that gave me the impression she was charmingly endearing before now caused my thoughts to run haywire in a frenzied, dubious rampage.

"You forgot your bag, by the way." She added.

I didn't know what to say as a reply to that, so I merely nodded my thanks and hurried into the lecture hall. Melia had a confused and slighted expression plastered upon her face; her eyebrows furrowed in possible agitation due to my unwillingness to converse with her. But time was running out. The first time Adro had slain my father was around ten in the morning today, less than an hour from now. I had to find answers, and quick.

Satan was busy stuffing his teaching materials in the maroon backpack he owned. He noticed me enter and pointed at the bag I had left on my seat. After slinging my bag over my shoulder, I walked up to the lecturer's desk where he was finishing up on his packing, determined to get to the bottom of this.

There were a few queries I had stored at the back of my head. Why was my day repeating for the third time? How were we going to save my father from imminent death by the hands of Adro? And lastly but certainly not the least, what exactly were the details in the contract I had signed?

I cleared my throat. "Satan, sir, I have a few questions I need to ask regarding something pressing."

What came next was unexpected. His head whipped around from what he was doing and his eyes bulged in shock at what I had just said.

"Did you just refer to me as Satan? HOW DARE YOU! My name is ISAIAH, I'll have you know that I attend mass every Sunday, for crying out loud! I'm a devout Christian, nothing less, you hear me? Apologize at once or I'll have you kicked out of my class!" A vein on his forehead was throbbing nearly as angrily as his tone.

What in the world? If... if this man wasn't the Devil in disguise, then who had I been talking to for the past two times of today's repeat? How would I ever find out what the details of the contract was? I examined the face of the lecturer whom I had mistakenly dubbed as Satan. His features were exactly the same as the supposed 'Devil', albeit scrunched up in disgust and fury right now.

I was just about to apologize when I noticed someone with flowing blond hair peering into the small glass pane of the door to the lecture hall. If I wasn't mistaken, I could've sworn that person's mouth curled up into a big smile, and the face disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

"Sorry, Mr. Isaiah, sir." Bowing my head apologetically, I turned around to head for the door.

There was now another pressing issue to add upon the list of growing issues that I had to deal with. I was certain that person in the doorway clearly heard everything that transpired in the lecture hall, and I had to find out who it was, and why he or she had a Cheshire grin that stretched all the way up to the ends of the mouth.

That person looked familiar. Could it be who I thought it was?