"Now," the Devil said, reaching out for MJ's hand. "Let's think about that Utopia again. The one we talked about before. The one where you're the ruler of everything."
MJ shut her eyes and concentrated. The smell of Brimstone was fairly distracting, but not so much that MJ couldn't still see that world, the one she was so invested in before. She chewed on her bottom lip.
"Concentrate, MJ," the Devil said. He had a weird, raspy voice, so MJ imagined he was probably in his normal-face rather than the personas he'd been taking on all semester.
"I am concentrating," MJ said.
"We can make this happen if you really think about it. If you really focus."
MJ focused. But at the same time---would she really want this world, now? The more she thought about it, the less she really liked the idea of running a world. How would she be any better than Big Brother? Or Mustapha Mond? Or Sean Bean in the Island (which is a significantly different Sean Bean to the one in Game of Thrones who was way cool but wasn't on the show enough.)?
Would MJ really be able to run a good, solid utopia? Something worthy of Utopia-ness? Something that didn't turn quickly into a dystopia? Or a non-functioning utopia, like Rapture in BioShock?
"You know," MJ said, pulling her hands away from the Devil. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea. I've got some great leadership skills and I really like people, but I don't think I'd be the best ruler. We should stop this. Let's just let things be like they are."
The Devil didn't speak, but MJ had the feeling that the ceremony was over. Or something. Always hard to tell with the Devil. He did things very differently from everyone else.
"Don't open your eyes," the Devil instructed her. "If you look at me, you will die."
MJ sighed. "Yeah, okay, you got that line from Doctor Who. Loser."
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