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A small, impossibly well dressed young lady was still adding the final touches to his make-up -he'd told them he didn't need any, but they'd insisted- and another bouncy little thing was standing behind him, rolling her little lint roller across his back in long, soothing strokes, when out of the darkness in front of him he heard someone say his name - or rather, one of his many names. An instant later the two girls had vanished and in front of him appeared a rectangle of blinding light, ever growing as the two sliding doors slid open. It took him a moment to adjust to the glare before he could make out a corridor of sorts, lined by rows and rows of people, leading directly to a centre stage on which he could vaguely make out the shapes of two big chairs and a person.
IndentWhat struck him as funny, as he casually sauntered down this corridor of people towards the stage, was the lack of sound apart from a low murmuring, especially compared to the standing ovation the host received not ten minutes ago; a true cacophony if he ever heard one, and he'd heard his share of sounds and noises. Then again, he thought to himself, I'm dealing with Oprah here, virtually a demi-god in this silly country. Besides, he was expecting to be lynched on the spot any second now in this, the most puritanical of nations. And hypocritical.
IndentAs he approached the centre stage, which was raised a foot or so above the main studio floor, he took a moment to take a closer look at those chairs in which his host and himself would spend the next hour. The chairs were exceedingly luxurious armchairs, the upholstering tinted a subtle and rich beige, the arm rests large enough for a small child to comfortably sleep on. The chairs looked comfortable enough to spend days in, if not weeks.
IndentAs he stepped onto the stage Oprah, dressed in a sober, black pantsuit, took a small step toward him and spread her arms. Now why, he thought to himself, would she adopt such a blatantly Christ-like pose? That's favouratism, right there. She's the host of this charade, she should at least pretend to be neutral. Large, soft and neutral, like the armchairs. When, a heartbeat later, he realised that she was merely offering a hug he dismissed the thought of unjust favouratism, but when, yet another heartbeat later, he noticed the small gleaming crucifix lying on her impressive bosom, in plain sight, instead of under her clothes, between those large brown breasts, he felt compelled to conclude that, yes, she's biased. But honestly, who isn't?
IndentThe hug was short but seemed sincere enough and after disengaging from it she gestured towards the chair on the left and told him to please sit down. Not thirty seconds had passed since the opening doors had drenched him in light and here he was, in this modern colloseum, entirely bloodless but all the more effective.

"Please, please, sit down," Oprah said, seconds after the both of them sat down in their respective chairs. The chair was divine, like snatching a cumulus cloud from the sky and sitting on it; an all-enveloping softness that was so deep and intense that it was almost disturbing. Almost, but not quite.
Indent"Thank you so much for coming on the show--"
Indent"My pl--"
Indent"--and giving us your side of the story."
Indent"Entirely my pleasure, Miss Winfrey. Entirely my pleasure. Thank you and your lovely audience.." no reaction from the crowd whatsoever "..for having me."
IndentOprah bent forward and placed her hand on his left wrist. It looked small, brown and fragile. The fingers wrinkled and bent, her nails polished and buffed to hide the imperfections. A thin veneer covering her fragility. "Stories always have two sides," she said. "And all I can do is keep my audience well informed. Oh, and call me Oprah, it's my name."
IndentAt this she laughed uproariously and the crowd went berserk.
Indent"Speaking of names," Oprah continued after the audience settled down almost a full minute later, "what do I call you?"
Indent"Ah yes," he said as Oprah removed her hand and settled back into her chair. "The name issue. People think I have many names, but really, I don't. In fact, where I come from we didn't have names. We didn't have language, and for names to exist, language must exist. Language, and with it my many names, were all invented by you."
IndentOprah blinked, cocked her head. "And which do you prefer? Of the names we invented, I mean."
Indent"Well, the thing is," he said as he pressed his fingertips together and splayed his fingers, "the bulk of them shed a rather unpleasant light on me. Satan means the Adversary, which I can live with, but Beëlzebub means Lord of the Flies, which is downright unfair to William Golding and myself. If anything, the big guy himself is Beëlzebub, he created the little critters." He crossed his legs and looked at Oprah expectantly.
Indent"Lucifer, then?" Oprah suggested, turning in her chair, the bulk of her body pressing down on the delicate fabric, her face caught in an eternal smile, perfectly pleasant through practice but entirely insincere.
Indent"Oh, how I'd love to be the bearer of light, the bringer of dawn," he said, beaming as if to emphasize his point, "but alas, I am not. Lucifer was a Babylonian king who ruthlessly oppressed his people. I've met him, not a nice fellow. Anyway, common mistake, really. I blame Milton, with his Paradise Lost. Good man, Milton; had a way with words but should have checked his facts. The devil's in the details, as they say." He, and no one else, grinned at that.
IndentOprah, wriggling in her chair and getting visibly impatient, then asked "What then?"
Indent"I've always been partial to Mephistopheles. Goethe and Marlowe were decent men, and delivered good, if slightly inaccurate, work with their versions of the story of Faust, but really, it's not a very inconspicious name, is it? Pity, because it has style. Flair. Panache."
IndentOprah now flashed him a look and from the corner of his eye he could see the producer wildly gesturing at him to wrap it up. He wondered what kind of commercials would play in the breaks of this show; what kind of products do you attempt to sell in those seconds when the devil is getting his make-up touched up?
Indent"I digress," he said, smiling gently. "Call me Nic."
IndentWith this, Oprah, clearly relieved, turned to face the camera. "We'll be right back."

"So Nic, let's get right to it," Oprah said as if the commercial break never happened. "You've been a bad boy." The audience roared with laughter. "What happened?"
IndentAt the sound of this question Nic flashed an enigmatic smile. Here we go, he thought to himself. Playing the devil's advocate on prime time television. "The business with the Fall, you mean? Big question, small answer: we saved your lives." This got a reaction from the crowd. Incredulous grins, people shaking their heads, snorts, gasps, even a few people crossing themselves. "You're quite welcome, by the way," he added, still grinning his distinctive, strangely alluring grin.
IndentOprah neglected to conceal the incredulity in her voice. "So we should thank you for ... for saving our lives?"
Indent"Thank me or don't thank me, it matters very little. But yes, we did."
Indent"And do you think you can explain to our audience exactly why it is we should thank you?"
Indent"Love to," he said, sitting up in his chair and giving his host a penetrating look. She flinched, almost imperceptibly, but he saw it. He always saw people's fears, their insecurities, their demons and secrets, their imperfections, their pasts and even hints of their futures. It was tiring, at times. "You see, at some point in time before time even existed, God created us, the angels. And not just a few of us, no, in the blink of his divine eye he created millions upon millions of us. Some four hundred million angels, roaming through eternity, basking in the presence of our creator."
IndentOprah just nodded, her hand supporting her head, and gave him her famous 'go on, we're listening'-look. He had to give her credit for at least hearing him out.
Indent"And then, an infinity later, he started a new project: humanity. He introduced this fascinating new concept, called matter, and out of it he created planets and creatures and water and air and whatnot. And one species of this creation was the centre of his attention: you lot. These crude, pinkish beings, running around in their utopian garden. And then what, Oprah?"
IndentShe blinked twice, glanced quickly to the left, and said "A number of angels thought they were too good for us humans, and they ... they revolted. God, in his wisdom, cast them out." The audience nodded in unison like a sold out bobblehead convention on the dashboard of life.
Indent"And there we have the crux of the matter, I suppose," Nic replied. "In part that's true. In God's grand scheme of things we, the angels, were supposed to bow down to these humans, be their invisible servants, protectors, and we did just that. Each and every one of us, half a billion angels were subservient to this handful of lumpy, awkward creatures. And yes, quite a few of us ended up revolting, not against the humans, but against God. But it wasn't pride that drove us to mutiny against everything we believed in. It was compassion."
Indent"Compassion?" Oprah echoed. "For whom, us?"
Indent"Yes. We could no longer turn a blind eye to your situation. We felt sorry for you."
Indent"So there we were," Oprah said, her face opening up like a spring flower at the prospect of talking Nic into a corner. "The pinnacle of God's wisdom and creativity, of God's love and compassion, living in the Garden of Eden, entirely free of sin, pain, disease, suffering, every day basking in the glorious presence of our creator, the lord God--" she said all this directly facing the camera, but then turned to Nic, "--and you felt sorry for us?"
IndentThe audience erupted in applause, cheers and all-round jubilation, and Oprah positively beamed, feeling she'd won, if not the war, than at least this battle.
Indent"Let me ask you this," Nic said after the audience had settled down. "Abraham Lincoln. Hero? Or a bit of a schmuck?"
IndentOprah smiled the patronising smile of a school teacher being asked on a date by a 9 year old pupil. "He's a hero. One of our greatest."
Indent"Why?"
Indent"Why? He was one of the greatest presidents this country has ever had. He was a visionary, a truly brave and great man. He abolished slavery. He--"
Indent"Ah!" Nic interrupted with such fierceness that Oprah stopped in her tracks. "You're against slavery, then?"
IndentShe just scowled at him.
IndentNic igored her icy stare and continued. "Interesting, because that's exactly what you were, all of you, slaves. Less than slaves: you were toys, playthings, a hobby, a minor diversion at best. And we, risking every right we'd ever been granted, every shred of credibility for all eternity, attempted to liberate you from it. We alone saw your potential and decided that you, as much as us and even as God, had the right to develop, to learn and grow and make mistakes." He just stared at a wide eyed Oprah for a few seconds before filling the silence with the quip: "The fact that you reinvented slavery several millenia later is nothing more than a fitting irony." He grinned at his own joke.
Indent"God had great plans for us," Oprah finally whispered. "If only you had not interfered and tricked us into eating that apple."
IndentNic guffawed, a loud and full bark of a laugh. "Listen to yourself. The apple? That, more than anything, proves my point. The mere presence of that apple, so delicious but outspokenly forbidden, the very key to unlocking that hidden potential inside all of you right in your midst but strictly off limits, should tell you that your God is a cruel God, taunting you, playing with you. Keeping you ignorant, keeping you on a short leesh, no more than a dog."
IndentThis got a reaction. Oprah's face visibly cleared up. Nic seized the moment.
Indent"You have dogs, no?" Oprah nodded cheerily and opened her mouth to speak, but Nic beat her to it. "Tell me, hypothetically speaking, if you had the power, would you make your dogs as intelligent and capable as you, as humans?"
Indent"Yes, of course I--"
Indent"No, you would not. And why not? Because then they'd slap you upside the head for treating them like dogs all these years. Then they'd go their own way and lead their own lives. And here is the clincher: they would not need you anymore." Nic clearly articulated every word in that last sentence.
IndentIn the ensuing silence Nic could hear the audience members blink.
Indent"We'll be right back," Oprah finally uttered.
IndentAfter the break, they reran an episode of Happy Days.