PhD Candidate Faustus

4: begin thine incantations

Mephistopheles

Rose and Swan Academy proves to be just as impressive as it sounded. A veritable castle, rising up among the clouds and nestled a very expensive taxi ride into the mountains, it is filled to the brim already with rich parents moving their very privilege students in. I've been to my share of penthouses and fancy parties but this is downright another reality. Kids, as young as twelve, with outfits worth more than half of my organs, stagger around with designer luggage, smelling of cologne and with electronics lazily hanging out of too small pockets. The temptation to snag a better phone is horrible, but I resist. I need to do the job properly and to do that I need to blend in.
Thankfully, my better make up and club clothes achieve that, and while my bags are worn I am offered an auditorium to toss those in. My jeans are name brand at least, and my shirt, while a bit slutty, does not technically stand out among the rich and famous.
I spend most of the day hovering to the sidelines, watching people come in and doing my job of looking for the girl. I take a few pictures of girls I think might be her and text them to the guy, kind of partly so he knows I showed up and am doing as he asked. He thanks me, but they aren't her.
I'm quite happy to be herded in to lunch, and later dinner. It's just sack lunches, but even so it's finer than I was getting. I avoid faculty and staff, mostly nuns, who try to herd me places, citing waiting for parents and the like. It works quite well, and as soon as night is falling I slip off to find a decently comfortable bench on the grounds.
I'm a bit cold, but it isn't my first night spent outside. The next day is also a move in day, but it's the last on. So my last chance to find the girl, and I can technically leave.
But.
Why should I? This is going well. I've not been caught yet. All these kids, they can't tell me they check student IDs on them every day. I can probably just slip in. For a little while. Three meals a day. Hell, if I'm lucky I can find a unoccupied dorm or one with a spare bed and act like I lost my room assignment papers. Who would check? If anyone says I'm not on a list I'll say I'm a late registration.
Meanwhile, I can get fed, and go to classes. Actually go back to school. I mean I'm not really enrolled but the knowledge would be mine. I could take the GED, or SAT, and maybe qualify for a scholarship? I don't know. And it might not work. But it's certainly worth trying. I'm not giving up on myself this easily. That doctor was right, where do I want to be ten years from now? Running another con, picking pockets, no place to lay my head at night? Or a degree and a boring job, coming home to a white walled apartment and feeding a cat while I look at mail and eat take out leftovers in front of the TV? That could be me, maybe, anyway I have to try. I am worth trying and this place might give me the stepping stone I need. At this point I'd sell my soul for a few peaceful nights sleep anyway. I'll just go look around the dorms, maybe there's an empty room or something that I can sneak into. I won't know if I don't try. This could be good. I can do this.

Faustus

I can't do it.
I can't.
This room is entirely too small. They said I didn't have to share with anyone I did get that. But after hours and hours of briefings and lectures and all my head is spinning. And finally parents went away. And I'm alone in this small room. A lowly scholar. A nothing. Being nothing. I have published research papers across a variety of fields. I am meant to be something.
But I'm alone here, in this little room. And they all leave me to it as though I am nothing anymore.
So that's it. I'll prove to them all my alchemy is superior. I'll raise the dead. And summon the devil.
I flip through my books quickly, until I find the proper incantations forcing my hands to stop shaking:
" Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute, And try the uttermost magic can perform. Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nuncsurgat nobis dicatus Mephistophils!"
The door to the room swings open, and amid a cloud of smoke, the devil steps in. He has thick, unnaturally red hair, and glowing yellow eyes, like those of a cat. He wears a pentagram about his neck, and his eyes flick to me the moment he enters.
"Go away, demon! Change your form, and come back again," I say, hiding my face from his shining one.
The devil quickly retreats and closes the room door. I collapse, sobbing.