The Devil Couldn’t Reach You, So He Sent Us to Play Our Phones on Full Volume

You’re on a hike, trying to enjoy some nature.

Or perhaps you’re at a museum, perusing precious art.

Maybe you’re sitting quietly on the bus ride home.

It doesn’t matter. Wherever you go, there we’ll be. Mere feet away, taking a call or playing a video on our phones at full volume.

You see, the devil couldn’t reach you, so he sent us to test you. To torment you. To destroy your inner and outer peace. We’re the people loudly logging into a work meeting at an otherwise quiet coffee shop. Our texts are dinging in a darkened movie theatre. We’re taking calls in a goddamn library.

You’ve encountered us in the Amtrak quiet car, playing loud, troubling news reels without headphones. You know you can’t escape us by switching cars. The devil isn’t bound by a prison of flesh. If you try moving, he will conscript a new body, and you’ll encounter another one of his disciples on a Zoom meeting, laughing loudly as he asks everyone about their weekends. You want to take a nap? Too bad. He doesn’t give a fuck.

We don’t answer to you. We answer to the Lord of the Underworld

If you try moving again, the devil will activate a new servant, a new pawn in his sick game. He’s everywhere. There are moments you might believe yourself safe. Maybe you’ll even breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s futile. You’ll know it’s futile. Because next time you’re stuck standing in a long line at a bakery or the DMV or anywhere you might encounter a line, one of us will be behind you, talking to their daughter about prom dresses on speakerphone.

When you came across one of us in a hospital waiting room, you had questions. Well, we have answers. Did this person notice that the room was silent? Yes. Were they aware of the general sense of anxiety and dread? Of course. Did they think it was appropriate to play “Get Ready With Me” videos so loud that you could still hear them from down the hall? No. Don’t be ridiculous. None of us are trying to be “appropriate.” The devil has enlisted us to flagrantly break the social contract and then act indignant if you politely ask one of us to turn the volume down.

You can’t escape our leader. He’s everywhere. He’s the disorienting sound of a whiplash-inducing TikTok scroll. He’ll play videos at normal speed, and then he’ll play them at two-times speed. You’ll wonder, is this hell? The answer is, sort of.

What did you do to deserve this, you might want to know. I honestly have no idea. That’s between you and Satan—I’m just the messenger, which is the underworld’s version of middle management. But now, I have a question for you: what are you going to do about it?

You tell yourself you would never have been so foolish as to be tricked by the apple, so weak as to fall for its temptation. But how good would it feel to tell one of us to shut the fuck up? To stand up and slam one of our phones to the ground and watch the screen fracture into a thousand little shards? Imagine the satisfaction of pouncing on one of our laptops and tearing it apart, pixel by pixel, with your teeth. How sweet it would taste to chew it up and spit it out and howl at the moon?

Do it. We’re talking even louder. We’re asking someone to repeat themselves. Do it. You know you want to.

Or. Or? Yes, or. Or, you can join us in this life of sin. Play a fruit-slicing game with the sound turned to 130 decibels on your morning commute. Watch a YouTube video during a silent meditation retreat. Take a call at a funeral and say, “Sure, I can talk now. It’s no problem.”

Together we can dismantle the social covenant. We can destroy the peaceful nature of spaces that are meant to be quiet and shared. I’ll leave my card, just scan the QR code to start playing an influencer vlog on full-blast. Think about it. And next time you see someone treating public spaces like they’re in their own private living room, just remember, they’re one of us. And if you choose to submit to the Lord of the Underworld, it could also be you.