Chapter 118: End game

Screwtape slumped down in his big, plush leather chair. His shoulders drooped. He was weary of it all; the long arduous hours of toil, and the insignificant results. He was expected to build a mountain, one spoonful of dirt at a time. But the spoon was so heavy, that simply to raise it was a great victory. To actually fill it with dirt, a triumph. To carry it to the work site, a miracle. Dump. There's one spoonful of dirt on a broad, flat plain that stretches to infinity. And that one spoonful of dirt, so laboriously won, blows away to nothing in the dry desert air.
   Screwtape was bone-tired, bone-discouraged. He was faced with an impossible task, and the hardest part of all was the make-believe -- the self deception. He had to make himself believe the war was winnable. If the leader acknowledged defeat, how could he inspire his troops? The poor idiots. Boasting and bragging about their prodigious spoonfuls of dirt. And he had to pat them on the back, say, "good fellow," "well done;" "keep up the good work."
   It was disgusting.
   Screwtape found the secret compartment in his desk and opened it. He took out a voice recorder, mashed the button, and began to dictate.
   "It's hopeless. Why do I keep up this charade? Why not just pack it in -- surrender? -- Because I can't.
   “Because I’m afraid.
   “Because the struggle has its own momentum. It has to continue, go on until the end. The end. Any time now.
   "Hopelessly outmatched. Like a bunch of high school kids against the Super Bowl champions. It's fourth down and ninety-nine yards to go, with two seconds left on the clock. And the score? Hah! Don't even look. A hundred to nothing. A million to nothing. What does it matter?
   "But dammit, the struggle matters. It's a pride thing now. Don't let the Bully know he's got you down. Go down swinging. Make him earn every inch."
   It was too corny. Screwtape erased the message. He threw the recorder back in the drawer and snapped it shut. He got up and went over to the expansive window. Sunlight glinted on the waves rolling in steadily, steadily for thousands of miles. On the beach, some youngsters were playing volleyball.