I step into the subway car as I do every evening after work, finding it completely deserted at this time of evening. These late nights have become common and my family has become understanding of it. This night, however, I feel especially tired and anxious, like I'm expecting something. I settle onto a long bench along the far side of the car. I lie my head back and ... slide my eyes shut, ready to curl up in bed and enjoy the coming weekend. Heavy footsteps surprise me and I direct my eyes to the closing doors of the subway car.

Just in the knick of time, another gentleman has made it into the car. He is of impressive stature, six-foot-four at least, and strongly built, but well dressed, a man who has labored and risen in status to where he is. Immediately, without even knowing a thing about this man, he has captured my respect. He looks to where I am sitting, his eyes widening as if happy to have company, and comes to sit not far from me. He has an expression that reflects a strong intellectual with hopeful ideas and charisma. If I was in the place to do it, I would hire him right on the spot, but strangely I feel as if that would be an injustice to this man. Why does it seem as such, and why does he feel so familiar? He looks at me warmly and speaks.

"Quite the day, if I may say. One full of satisfaction, knowing you accomplished something, but always ready for more. You must excuse me sir, I tend to engage with strangers rather strongly. I hope I brought no offense."
His tone of voice reflected an old world's articulation, not arrogant but knowledgeable. I respond, "No offense taken. I converse with people everyday that I may never meet again outside of professional engagements."

He looks at me with understanding and speaks again with confidence. I cannot help myself but listen.

"You are a man of the law, a defense attorney I would assume. Your articulation reflects someone used to providing a crowd with assurance that there have been no wrongs committed. I admire someone who will defend the innocent but will not partake in attempts to hide the guilts of the criminals."

I am shocked at the intuition of the man. He seemed to already know so much about me and I've said one sentence to him. He has a charm that draws you in to listen. He could speak of the eggshell coloring of parchment paper and I would be damned if I didn't listen in devote interest. I engage him further.

"You have an intuition and wisdom that must stem beyond your years. Your father must have been quite the man in his time."

He speaks with new vigor, "Oh yes, he still is to this day. Very respected by everyone that knows him or knows of him, and he is completely self made. Years of hard work have brought him to where he is, and my brothers and sisters are proud to call him their father. I am as well, but I truly believe I should be the one to succeed him in the 'family business' as some would call it."

I am intrigued by this and press him further. I ask, "What do you believe you could bring that would improve upon his work?"

He seems rather solemn now, but answers. He says, "My father is very well loved and respected, but his ideals are much too reserved and old fashioned, well old fashioned to an extent. He used to be much more involved in the affairs of his family and people, but now he has hidden himself away, allowing everything to play out on its own and only stepping in if utterly necessary. I fear he has become careless and allows too much to go unnoticed. The ignorance of his people has gone unanswered for so long, there is much turmoil and if someone does not step in and take charge, I'm afraid everything will come crashing down, leaving us to pick of unmendable pieces. I love my father, but he has looked negatively upon my desires and has been very stern in his actions toward me. We haven't spoken for quite some time, but I do hope to come to a compromise some day. I have gained support of some of his people, but many are not whom I intended to attract. Those I've drawn in are so negative toward my father and it bothers me how they speak of it. I hope to bring in people who are open minded to change, but for the better, not for senseless rebellion. People like you, Andrew."

My heart drops into my stomach as he speaks my name. How could he know that was my name? Thankfully, I retain my composure and ask in as plain of curiosity as I could, "How did you know my name was Andrew, sir?"

He seems rather embarrassed, but answers with reassurance, "Oh, my apologies sir. I recognized you from your advertisements and posters around town and felt compelled to converse with a man of such influence. You're just the kind of man I need on my side to present my ideas to my father."

I feel slightly embarrassed, one for being alarmed that this man knew my name, and also for the compliment. It is flattering that a stranger could see me as a man to be allied with.

"I am flattered that you see me as such, and I would love to provide you assistance, but it would seem disrespectful for me to take a side against a man whom I have never met before. I do apologize."

He looks at me with an eager gleam in his eye and says, "I understand and reassure you would not be presenting no disrespect toward my father. You're not the first to see it that way and will not be the last. Very few people have met my father and the ones that have are very well set in his ideals. I don't wish to overthrow my father and establish a new regime, but I do hope to take a more engaging role in the care of his people. I'm a sympathetic person and hope to do much good for all of you in every way my father has taught me. He's just stubborn in his old ways and needs to see I'm sincere in my attempts to carry on his legacy."

Everything this man has said has come out as if he and I have known each other for our entire lives and were discussing going into business together. I feel no other choice but to give this complete stranger my full support.

"Well sir, you have definitely presented me with a lot of information to take in, so I must say I would be honored to support you in your campaign to succeed your father. Maybe I will have the chance to meet him and give him insight into how this could be a benefit to both of you. I must say though, a man stubborn in his beliefs and ideals feels all to familiar. I must ask, and no offense give, but is your father a religious man?"
He the man has a good laugh at that, but does so in a way two colleagues would share a laugh at an old idea they had about where they would go with their lives. He calms down and speaks once more.

"Oh Andrew, you are definitely someone I want in my corner. A religious man, oh not quite. Religion is such a human concept and is so hindering to the minds of society. It's so much of the same ideas given a different name and different look. I've seen so many religions come and go, and it's still interesting that they miss the biggest point but still always retain it. All it really takes is living a morally just life and striving for personal and societal improvement. My father doesn't care what name you give him, as long as you live a life of morals and happiness, he will accept you with open arms and love in his heart, just as I will. Well Andrew, it has been a pleasure, but I must get going. I will see you again soon, and I know my father will be eager to meet you as well. It won't be too much longer, so take care my friend."

It all dawns upon me so fast, that I could not have seen it this entire time is incredible. Here I sat and talked with him, something so many people have hoped to do for generations and never got the opportunity. He is a true reflection of his father. I call out to him before it is too late, "God bless you, Jesus Christ. God bless you!"

He stops and looks back at me with that gaze of such wisdom, and I'm pinned to my seat. He smiles and speaks quietly, almost somberly. He says, "Thank you Andrew, but I hope not to disappoint you. I am not Jesus Christ. That man was very devout, but was only a man and is now dead. I hope this does not make you change your mind on supporting me, for I can still do much good, even without my father's blessing."

As the door slide shut and shut him out of the subway car, he utters his final words, the same words that will echo in my mind on my deathbed.

"I am not Jesus Christ. My name is Lucifer; I am the devil. God bless you Andrew, and take care."