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380 pages, Paperback
First published January 31, 2023
In the end, there's little difference between a cinematic apocalypse and a simple matter of preventative social isolation.
Elaine has a business card. It reads Elaine Estrada, Devil's Advocate. People find it exceedingly amusing when she puts it in for free lunch raflles at nearby delis and cafes, though the supplicants who come to her office clutching it in hand feel differently. Mr. Down was correct that they are typically very upset, and there is a fair amount of teeth gnashing. Ultimately, though, the job is very simple.
”Just natural curiosity.
It's what we do, you know, as humans? Occasionally we inconvenience ourselves by thinking about why we exist."
I know it seems a bit problematic for me to say things like I'm only dating Will for access to the demon who lives in his body, but is it really all that different from the men who've only been with me for sex?
Like, the only reason to exist is other people, right? Anything else is just capitalism or trying not to get eaten by bears. But it's a gamble, because for every person who brings something to your life there's probably someone else who takes something from it. And like, how do you make sure it's not a shitty gamble. That's the whole thing.
”There's a slim but unignorable possibility that you may be courted by a spirit representing Death.”