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.
[20] If that sounds confusing, it isn’t really. The equivalent effect can be found on Earth, such as when you haven’t studied for a test in school and, the more you want that test to be put off, the faster the time for the test seems to arrive. The same is true for painful dental appointments, visiting that aunt you don’t like at Christmas, and waiting for your mum to come home while you try to stick back together her favorite vase that you’ve just broken. The opposite occurs for events to which you’re rather looking forward, like Christmas, your birthday, or the first snows of winter. Someday, a very bright child will create an equation for all this in order to explain it, and other, even brighter, children will look at him in a funny way and wonder why he bothered, since everyone instinctively understood it anyway.