By Eva Dias Costa in The Follies File — 04 Nov 2025

Consultor Emeritus Infernus: Ricardus

I. Clearance

The floor slicks open.
He steps down –
like a man arriving
at his second home.
Coat unwrinkled. Soul unclaimed.

No trumpets.
Just the low hum
of paperwork completing itself.

A demon glances up,
checks the clipboard.

[cursor blinks –
he’s been here before]

“Oh. You.”

Someone lights a cigar
with a memo.
A chair rolls into place.
Ergonomic. Reserved.

The air adjusts to his settings.

No one screams.

That part was phased out.
Here, torment is administrative.

Lucifer appears late.

Dry-palmed. Unhurried.

“Vice,” he says,
“we thought you might outlive us all.”

A pause.

“But of course –
you only outsourced immortality.”

They shake hands.
A contract signs itself
in a font used only
for irreversible decisions.

In the corner, a server hums assent.

Below them, the condemned halt.
They recognise the gait.

The quiet calibration
of someone
who filed ethics
under logistics.

"Welcome.
There’s no punishment.
There’s a post."

"Hell is understaffed.
You already have experience."

II. The Hall

He is shown
to the Hall of Aftermath.

Doors open
with security clearance.

Regret is logged
in triplicate.

He is escorted
without restraints.

The escort wears gloves.

Because without them,
someone might notice
what they’re handling
is still
unstable.

As he walks,
the corridor repaints itself.

Language replaced,
air recalibrated
for long-term retention.

On the far wall –
a map,
annotated in timestamps.

No countries.
Zones of compliance.

Redactions.
Silences.
Footnotes
that lead nowhere.

A plaque reads:
All decisions were made in context.

Beneath it,
a ventilation grate
whispers
names.

He pauses
at a touchscreen.

The interface has changed,
but the principle
is familiar.

Options include:

• Review Detainee Logic
• Reconstruct a Timeline
• Edit Memory for Continuity
• Submit Final Statement (Beta)

He selects:
Auto-Complete.

[cursor blinks –
it’s where the scream went]

Further in:
a server rack emits steady heat.
Rows of absolutions,
shining.

Each one backlit.
Each one dated.

Label:
Ethics: Version 4.2
Retention: Indefinite
Status: Uncontested

III. The Department

A door opens
before he knocks.
The lights adjust
to his rhythm.

Some architects
are recognised
by
the infrastructure.

He takes his seat
in the Office of Plausible Deniability.
No adjustments needed.
The chair
remembers.

A demon
in a navy blazer
offers coffee.

The cup is embossed
with an agency seal.

The steam lifts –
faintly reminiscent
of unacknowledged fire.

A clerk hands him a folder.
Thin.
Recent.
Warm.

“These are your precedents,”
she says.
“They’re being cited again.”

He nods.

Targeted lethality.
Non-refoulement exception.
Selective transparency.

He initials each page,
translating himself
into protocol.
The paper does not protest.

In the corner,
a screen loops:
a compound,
a convoy,
a classroom.

A shelf holds binders.
Entries sorted
by incident,
by coordinate.

No subjects listed.
Pages: some scorched,
others dated
but empty.

Footnote 7: Classified. Footnote 8: Redacted. Footnote 9: See Footnote 7.

He is issued a badge:
Consultant Emeritus.
It confirms alignment.

The department stays open.
Lights remain calibrated.
The system refines itself
using his original parameters.

He does not speak.
The archive updates
without input.

A line is added
to the 43rd file.

Status: Recurs.

[cursor blinks –
we are still inside it]