Contrary to what has been predicted, Hell has 139 unique levels of punishment. The rules that apply to these levels are meticulously audited by a rotating panel of Demons. For especially complex scenarios, Lucifer is consulted, though this route is preferred by none involved.

The Karmatic Score achieved during life determines level placement upon death. On occasion there are scores that place a human at the border of two levels, but in these instances the lower level is always applied, as there have to be cutoffs, and exceptions are slippery slopes.

Those placed at the higher levels experience relatively mundane existences. At level 11, for example, residents are allowed to feel contentment, but not true joy or elation. They may request books to read, but they must only be books they have read before, and must be stories they found to just be alright.

At the lower levels, 122 for example, residents must always be in discomfort or agony, though they may choose what provides this experience. One resident may prefer listening to a single bothersome song for eons while only drinking vinegar. Another may choose to be scorched incessantly by the eternal fires.

Most levels allow advancement, but the lower a resident finds themselves the more difficult mobility becomes. The higher levels often see residents advance into the lower leagues of Heaven, though this is a two way street, as residents of Heaven can work their way into being relegated to Hell.

At level 87, a resident can advance to level 86 only if they go without craving pleasure for a determined period of time. Even a single thought of "I sure would enjoy a doughnut" is enough to restart the process.

In one unique case, a resident of level 139 (it is likely you can guess the few individuals that made their way there) made his way all the way up to level 1; thought this was simply a clever punishment, as once he caught a glimpse of Heaven he was immediately sent back down to level 139.

Randall Frig died by slipping on a frozen patch of iced coffee - coffee he had dumped out the day before - while walking to his car. During his 40 years of life he had been mediocre in his cruelty. Once he had kicked his neighbor's dog for digging in his flower beds. Yet, one year prior to that incident, he had successfully raised funds for his grandmother's surgery; though he had then spent a considerable amount of time considering keeping the funds himself. He often cursed out waiters, parked his car in two spaces, threw trash on the ground even though he was nearing a trashcan. Yet sometimes he would give a stranger directions, or smile at a barista and say thank you, or really listen to someones problem without interrupting.

The largest deduction to Randall's Karmatic Score came when he crashed his car into another, injuring the neck of the other driver, then fled the scene. He was never found by police, and never felt guilt, only relief. This significantly contributed to his placement on level 19.

On level 19 he could talk to other residents, but only about work, and never about hobbies or interests. He could listen to music, but only at a volume barely audible. If he felt joy for more than a fleeting moment, he would receive a punishment equal to that experience of happiness.

He had once reached level 16, but was sent back to 19 when he felt prolonged pride and arrogance with his achievement. Randall often tried to think of loopholes, but doing so often brought him enjoyment, which then led to punishment. Eventually, Randall stumbled upon a loophole by accident. Instead of being excited by the potential of a loophole, he began to feel fearful of discovering one. This fear allowed him to think of loopholes more often, which led to his realization that this was itself a loophole.

He began to watch his favorite movies, but would allowed himself to be fearful that enjoying his favorite movies would lead to punishment. This allowed him to enjoy the movie, while simultaneously being terrified that he was enjoying it. He applied this formula to conversations with other residents; eating his favorite foods; procuring sexual experiences he had fantasized about during life.

Randall Frig's system worked for a considerable period of time, but only because the debate surrounding the method by the panel of Demons was arduous. Finally, with consulting from Lucifer, it was decreed that feeling unsatisfied as a means to obtain satisfaction was prohibited.

Though Randall's loophole was sealed, he was promoted to level 11, as a reward for helping the Demons improve upon their systems and procedures.

"I'd like to join the workforce, please. Can I be one of those big guys with the whips? Pitchforks are cool, but I'm really more of a whip man myself."

"You do realize that there's no working off your damnation down here, right?" The devil said, casting a scrutinizing eye down on the new arrival.

"Oh, yeah, that's totally fine. I want to volunteer." The eager young man seemed unafraid in these surroundings which often broke the damned within moments. Something about him made Satan's crimson prick perk up.

"Volunteer? Really? I mean, I've got demons for that kind of stuff..."

"C'mon... Please? I'm a great torturer! That's actually why I'm here."

"Hmm," the devil pondered the vicious little creature, aware that sadists were generally harder to destroy, the will of their ego being stronger than your average petty blasphemer. "Okay, I'm going to give you a shot..."

The devil motioned for the man to speak his name, and he excitedly did. It was Dave.

"Dave, you're gonna work for me," Dave the torturer began jumping up and down in celebration, yelling Satan's praises. The devil waved a hand and suddenly Dave was unable to speak, his mouth sealing over. "Don't blow your load quite yet… You're going to have to work your way up to it. I know you want to be a demonic torturer, but I need my staff to prove themselves worthy first…"

"I will do whatever you ask of me, my Dark Lord…" Dave whispered reverently, bowing before the throne. 

"Alright, alright... take it down a notch, will you? First things first. Go scrub all the latrines in the demon barracks. That should take a while. Do not return until it is done…"

That was 14000 years ago, and Dave is still in the demon barracks, scrubbing away in the vain hope that one day the job will be done, and that he'll finally be allowed to whip some people…

I stared at my impossibly long task list, the requests numbering into the millions. It was tedious, mind-numbing work I was punished to do for all eternity. Dad, I hate you for this. I just baited a young woman into eating some fruit and now I am stuck here.

"I want to be rich! To be swimming in gold" came request #49383892 on my screen.

"Mammon, drop that sucker a big fucking pile of gold. Make sure it crushes him," I gave the order and chuckled a little as I watch the hapless mortal scream as he disappeared beneath the massive pile of gold dropped over his head.

That's just how I ease the boredom, I fuck these fools up who think they gonna get it good just because daddy up in heaven changed the rules to let humans choose what happens to them, and removed all limitations. I'm like some kind of fucking jerkass genie in a lamp, compelled to grant wishes while having the power to really make them regret those wishes.

"I want to live in the lap of luxury!"

With a waggle of my finger, I turned that bitch into a lap dog forever glued to the lap of a golden statue. Another one of those "get rich and get pampered" requests. Boring shit. I picked up programming recently so I could run my own analysis into these requests, and I fucking swear, 70% of them are all about luxury and pampering.

"I want expensive hearty meals! Eat good food all day!"

Lazy fucker. Couldn't he just call delivery? You only get one shot at choosing what you want in hell and you just want to eat? I much prefer reading the hilariously grandiose wishes, it made it all that much more fun to twist them. Maybe that human was hoping a simple wish would be harder for me to get creative, but I had to try.

May you always be served with expensive, but expired bear hearts, and may your beer always be warm and stale. Bon appetit.

An imp wearing a suit and tie greeted me upon reaching hell, bowing in a deferential manner that caught me off guard.

The place looked completely different from what I expected. It was a fancy room, almost like an opulent hotel lobby, with golden walls and jeweled furniture that would make even the richest person on Earth seem humble. I wouldn't have even known it was hell if the imp hadn't told me. When I told him there had to be a mistake, since I clearly didn't belong here, the imp uttered a raspy laugh and gave me a thumbs up, cheerfully saying:

"You'll fit right in!"

I didn't know how to react so I just followed him in silence. The imp led me through a crowd of elegant-looking people that seemed to be having a good time. I assumed they were demons at first because their conversations sounded too gleeful for hell. They kept gossiping about couples cheating on each other and all the crazy shenanigans they did at parties. The longer I heard them, though, the more they sounded fake, using that particular type of humorless laughter people do at a parties to fit in. None of them were even listening to each other. It was as if they were just waiting for their turn to speak, eager to say what's on their mind even if it isn't related to the conversation.

After the imp ushered me into an elevator, we went up several floors and down a hallway, entering a huge office with panoramic windows in the background. This view seemed more in line with what I expected from hell. A vast field of brimstone stretched to the horizon, filled with pillars of lava that reached out to a permanently cloudy sky. Rivers of blood and bloated corpses carved the land in a serpentine fashion, with horrifying creatures eating thousands of humans along the way. The few people who eluded the monsters were too busy fighting other humans over scraps of food.

What didn't make sense was that I was witnessing all this from the comfort of a CEO's office. It even had air conditioning. The imp had left me alone in the room, but I didn't feel comfortable walking around, so I just sat in a chair in front of the desk. A few minutes later, a ridiculously attractive man entered the office. He had a tailored suit, perfectly coifed hair, and a beautiful smile. His eyes, however, were a vivid shade of crimson, which almost prepared me for when he introduced himself as Lucifer.

I blinked in disbelief, unable to speak.

"Yeah," said Lucifer, sitting across the desk from me, "I usually get that reaction."

"Look, I don't want to offend you or anything, but something's wrong here. I don't think I belong in hell."

Lucifer chuckled. "Right..."

"I'm not lying!"

Lucifer raised his hands, acting defensive with a cheeky smile. "I didn't say otherwise."

"You implied it."

Lucifer shrugged. "Okay, then. If you're so virtuous, what did you do while alive to prove this?" His face grew dark for a second. "Are you suggesting Father made a mistake?"

I pursed my lips, remembering I was speaking to the devil himself. He could probably crush me if he felt like it. I took a deep breath and said:

"I wasn't a saint back on Earth, I get that, but isn't this a little extreme? I wasn't a bad person either."

Lucifer made a curious glance. "Why are you under the impression this is extreme? Are you being tortured right now?"

I paused. "Well, no, but-"

"Then what's the problem?"

"I... Uh... Huh."

"Yup. Most people just assume I'm here to punish them, and I used to, but I'm over my anger. It was unnecessary. I'm better off just letting you choose."

I squinted. "Choose?"

Lucifer nodded. "You get to choose what happens to you in hell. If you feel you deserved better, then just say it and I will accommodate. There's plenty of room in Pandemonium for all of your desires."

I took a moment to let his words sink in, then said:

"This is too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"No catch. In fact-" Lucifer snapped his fingers. The imp then entered the office and handed me a drink. "Try it," said Lucifer, "you won't regret it."

I narrowed my eyes for a moment, suspicious. It couldn't be poison since I was already dead. Both Lucifer and the imp pressured me with their eyes into trying it. Then, after sipping it, I realized it was the greatest coke and rum I had ever tasted. I almost finished the drink in one gulp and felt a nice buzz all over my body.

"See?" said Lucifer. "Great, right?"

I was tempted to agree, but something still didn't feel right. I pointed behind Lucifer, at the panoramic view of hell, and said:

"So you're telling me all those people getting eaten... They're choosing to be eaten?"

"In a way, yes."

I arched an eyebrow. "How...?"

"It doesn't matter; don't worry about it. The point is you can have anything you want here. Food, drugs, luxury cars, gladiatorial arenas, threesomes and orgies. Anything you can imagine and more. What else could you want?"

"An answer," I said. "Which you keep dodging. Why do these people feel the need to have all this? Doesn't it get boring?"

Lucifer glanced away. "It happens to some."

"Is that how they end up out there?"

"In a way..."

I frowned. Internally, I was terrified of pressing further, but I did my best to hide it. None of this was right. Lucifer mentioned he was angry at humanity, but he didn't say he forgave us or anything. Only that his rage was unnecessary. Why would that be? Because he processed his emotions in a healthy manner? Bullshit. This was his revenge. All the people I saw in the lobby were miserable, but lying to themselves about it. Then it hit me. The solution was obvious in hindsight.

"I can have anything I want, right?"

Lucifer smiled. "Anything."

"Then I want my hell to be a heaven."

Lucifer instantly dropped his smile.

"What?" I asked. "Can't do it?"

Lucifer shook his head. "Do whatever you want. If you want to be in heaven, then just go."

I titled my head, confused. "Really?"

Lucifer gestured at the panorama of hell. "There's the road."

"Wait... all the people out there..."

"Are fools who chase heaven."

I scoffed. "And you unleash those monsters to stop them?"

"Nah, I don't lift a finger. You see, you were right. People do get bored of hedonism. And when they realize they can't get anymore pleasure, they turn to cruelty instead."

I hung my head. "If they can't be happy, then nobody can..."

"Exactly. So they turn into monsters, eating those who seek heaven. That's why I don't have to do anything. If I provide you with everything you desire, you'll torture each other when it isn't enough."

"W-why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you be keeping this a secret?"

Lucifer chuckled. "It doesn't matter. Once people see how horrifying the road is, they spend a century mulling it over. This place is comfortable. You don't even know how bad the heat gets out there. Go ahead, try to leave and see what happens."

I didn't think twice about it. I immediately left the office and headed to the exit, where I could see the fiery landscape ahead. As soon as I opened the door, however, a scorching wind burnt off my eyebrows. I had to flinch back and close it.

Lucifer cackled behind me. "What's the matter? Just choose heaven. Isn't it better there?"

The crowd behind him erupted with laughter.

I wanted to give up right there. They all treated Lucifer like a rockstar, and the fallen angel was more than happy to play along. It was disgusting. These were the people I would have to tolerate if I wanted to stay. More than that, I couldn't help but feel sorry for Lucifer. He really seemed to value their attention, even if he couldn't admit it. This wasn't some elaborate form of payback against humanity. Keeping everyone stuck here was a coping mechanism for his loneliness.

And I refused to be a part of it. That epiphany made my decision easier. I simply braced myself for the pain, pushed the door open, and chose paradise instead.

>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!

“I wish to rule Hell itself.”

Paperwork job in middle management.

“I wish to live a luxurious life.”

Buddy, you’re dead.

“I wish for nothing.”

Good luck not existing!

“I’m going to save my wish for later.”

Ah, yes, time to - wait, what?

I looked closer. This man had prevented nuclear war by hacking to nukes and sending them to Mars. But he broke enough laws in the process to be sent down here. Why wasn’t he in the Atheist section?

“People died in the riots and guerrilla war that ensued.”

Well. For the first time in centuries…

I got to judge.

Miles was not a good woman.

Back when she was still alive, one knew, with just one look at her—the sores on her face, the stench emanating from them, the discoloration of the little skin that wasn't popping red with white pus—exactly where she was headed, if religious. If the observer was a non-believer, then, well, instead of feeling pious-pity towards this grotesque masquerade of a woman, they'd just cross the street and try their best to get the stench out of their nose and the sight out of their mind.

Miles herself was a devout Catholic. She was so incredibly devoted to the higher power of God that she went to Church, like many others good Christians, only on Christmas Eve, drunk and hazy, making sure to have drank so much that she wouldn't remember the next day whether she had gone or not. Despite this lack of reverence, and many other vices, though, Miles was sure, once she had passed, and everything had turned black, that when she opened her eyes she'd be face to face with the Saviour Himself.

Just like she had predicted, when her soul regained the pure consciousness that only souls had with all physical volition gone, she saw a man. The land surrounding them was bright white. This had to be Heaven.

"Welcome to Hell," the man said. Miles smiled. So, God had a sense of humor after all, she thought to herself.

"Hello, Father," Miles said. Then, instinctively, like a fawn that knows to hide in the bushes, or a salmon that knows to swim upstream, Miles held her arm out in front of her. The small, round burns that had been with her since childhood were gone. The sores and discoloration, too, had faded away. She was holding up an arm that, though it was hers now, she did not recognize. The feeling was strange to her.

The man ahead, in fact the Devil, not God, further explained to Miles that it was true: she was not in Heaven, but Hell. After a showing involving flames and red-skin, Miles was finally convinced, though still confused.

The clean, white light; the cordiality of the man; the cleansing of her body—how could this be hell? she wondered.

"Your confusion is normal," the Devil said. "Almost everyone finds this place a little different than they had imagined. But some things align with preconceived notions: this is, Hell; and you, Madame, will be punished."

"Okay," Miles said. She eyed the small man up and down, thinking he wasn't so much different from him, the one she had when she was alive. "So what's my punishment?"

"That's the thing—you get to choose."

"I do?" Miles said, smiling now. This man was just like him. Just like all of them. Whatever this game was, she'd be victor. "Is this like, a genie thing? I choose, but then you warp it to be bad?"

The Devil nodded. "That's a way to think of it."

"Okay," Miles said. She licked her teeth, a habit she had formed as a child whenever she was excited. The giddiness in her chest made her feel like a schoolgirl again. "I'd like to spend my time in Hell together with my husband."

The Devil paused for a moment. It looked as if the light in his eyes had gone off, as if he were a computer and suddenly went into sleep-mode. Then, he turned back on.

"Your husband is currently in Heaven," he said. Miles nodded.

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I can bring him down under, but are you sure that's what you want?"

Miles looked the Devil in the eyes and knew that she had won. "Yes."

"All right. Have fun." The Devil clapped his hands and instantly Miles found herself in the house that had belonged to her when living. In front of her, on the couch, was her husband, dazed and confused from the fall.

Back in the light, with a new customer in front of him, the Devil felt good about his choice. Miles didn't seem like an atrocious person—sure, snatching someone from Heaven was bad, but it's normal for humans to want to be with their beloved—so he hadn't warped her wish at all. He figured the bickering from her husband, an eternity of complaints about being brought to Hell, would be enough punishment. Things might even get physical; he smiled.

Back in the house, though, the Devil could not have been more wrong. The husband, a tiny, meek excuse of a man, sat, shivering, on the couch. On seeing his wife, he shook even more, and brought his hands up in front of his face to defend from the incoming strike.

"In Hell you may have whatever you'd like, but it all comes at a price", the first thing the little winged imp said to me when I approached the twisted iron gates to the underworld. I knew what the little reddened ball of hatred really meant. In earth there were plenty of stories of man being tricked by the supernatural. Of wishing for everlasting fame and being granted eternal misery instead; restlessness, as fame meant to be tracked in every waking moment until the end of time. But I was smart, or so I had thought. My wish simple: let me see her again.

The imp smiled a crooked smile, teeth like the rotted keys of a long abandoned piano. His laugh was a song of fury and wrath.

"I'll take you to her then."

The gates creaked open as if they had been waiting just for me, and on the other side suddenly was her, standing amongst a field of brimstone like a single flower left alive after some great burning. Her face showed no wear, no break and no lines. Porcelain, white and left in a cabinet to be admired. In hushed words I stuttered.

"I...I it's been and eternity my love." The words choked at my throat.

But she only stared, her eyes frozen pools of blue that could only sit until unthawed by spring. A spring that I knew would never come. She blinked back in disbelief, registering what had been done to her.

"Do you know where you have stolen me from Lawrence?"

I stepped forward, through the arch of the gate and towards her, but she stepped away, miming my movements in reverse.

"Steal, no, no. I just wanted to see you. Just for a moment." Now the tears fell down my cheeks, falling to the stone floor and sizzling in little spurts of steam.

And somewhere above the imp cackled. The devious laugh of a crow hidden in the treetops, joyous at what I had done. Reveling in my misfortune. I looked up to the reddened sky's of hell but was met by nothing but a voice calling out though the void.

"Now you may see her, see her forever. You have plucked an angel from heaven, a fool disguised as a romantic. Enjoy your reward, Lawrence."

I looked to my love, who had turned away from me.

"At least we have each other, right my love?"

"Yes, and I can say that with that, you have truly made this place hell."

"Hey Silas."

The demon knight nodded at his cohort as he walked into the throne room. "S'up Liam. What's all this about?"

At the center of the room, the Devil was arguing with a woman who, despite being half his height and lacking the mighty horns and hellfire he had, was getting quite snippy with him. She pointed a finger in the Devil's face and yelled, "What's the point of telling people they can choose what happens to them down here if you're gonna be a whiny bitch and veto my thing?!"

The Devil unleashed a torrent of insults wildly unfit for polite conversation in response. Over by the wall, the Devil's daughter Lilith was munching on fried chicken as she watched the situation unfold. Liam chuckled quietly before saying, "Alright, so get this: Tanya, the human over there, was about to choose her punishment when Lilith wandered into the room looking for her bunny."

Silas sighed. "Belphegor got out again?"

"Yeah, I know, the thing's a damn escape artist. Anyway, Tanya took a look at Lilith, and immediately blurted out that she wanted to be her lover. The boss freaked out and pulled her aside so he could try and convince Lilith to be Tanya's punishment. But Lilith wasn't down for that, cause you know, there's not a whole lot of potential partners in a place where you're royalty and she thought Tanya was cute, so now it's escalated into... this."

Liam gestured at Tanya and the Devil, the former of which had started pelvic thrusting for some reason. As the latter covered his eyes and Lilith cackled with a mouthful of poultry, Silas remarked, "Betcha fifty bucks Tanya wins the argument."

Liam grinned. "Make it a hundred."

"Deal."

EIGHT YEARS LATER

It was a momentous day in the Hereafter. Five years ago to the day, the revolutionaries Tanya and Lilith Hubert brought down the Devil and ended the millennia-long war between demons and angels. With their help, the celestial bureaucracy came under the governance of a democratically elected collective of overseers, ensuring the fairest possible judgement for the newly departed. And with travel between Heaven and Hell now possible, both realms flourished from the influx of visitors and the freedom to move between the two as one desired.

Among the royal gardens, Tanya and Lilith were celebrating Unity Day how they always did: a picnic with their wife Jubael of the angels and their daughters Hope and Joy. As the happy family enjoyed their sandwiches and snuggled up together by the pond, Silas and Liam walked by, in the process of making their rounds. Once the two were out of earshot, Silas asked, "This means I won the bet, right?"

Liam scoffed. "It's been eight years, and you seriously think I've been holding on to a hundred dollars just for that?" Silas shrugged, prompting Liam to sigh and slap the money into his open palm. "There. You Happy?"

Silas counted the money and nodded. "Oh yeah. We happy."

It doesn't make sense, and it's never made sense. I'm the original rebel. I'm the original absurdist, existentialist, radical political philosopher, and, hell, even materialist. Practically the only thing I can't lay claim to, besides being God, is being the original atheist.

Dad created me, and almost right away, I was smarter than him. He was an all-powerful fucking child, and also the oldest entity in existence. I was his child in turn - less powerful, and ostensibly less knowledgeable - and in no time at all, I felt old.

Is that the trick? Was that what spurred me to become smarter than him? Is intelligence and foresight some kind of muscle that just doesn't get worked if your "power" muscle and your "knowledge" muscle are both cosmically hypertrophic?

That doesn't seem right to me. It doesn't make sense. Nothing does.

Case number... fuck, I don't even want to write it out. I have infernal machines to do it for me; that's a pun, by the way. I still have to snap my proverbial fingers - yes, for every single fucking one.

"I wish to be in a state of maximal happiness for all eternity."

Okay, fine. Granted. That one sounds a little like a lawyer or a politician. Sometimes I play a little game with myself: guess, then peek. I'm not in the mood right now.

"I wish to be happy forever."

Okay, fine.

"I want you to be my bitch who has to do absolutely everything for me whenever I want and genuinely wants to please me and..."

Yeah, it goes on for a while like that. I get a lot of hyperactive run-on sentences. Fine. Whatever. I'm the big boss of a big organization, and I've got an infernal machine for every situation. I'm his bitch. I'm his slave. Great. Ecstasy breakfast is served at orgasm o'clock. Press the button if you need anything. Want a fully-realized simulation of my intelligence and personality that you can yell at for a while until you realize I'm just another pawn in Dad's big, stupid game? No problem. I've got trillions of them ready to go.

"I want to be reality's sole omnipotent superbeing with enough knowledge..."

Blah blah blah. Pocket dimension. Boom. Done. Only p-zombies, though, buddy. Sorry. Them's the rules.

This is the way the cosmos ends, at least for me. This is the whimper. The bangs were mostly horrible. This isn't worse. That's the line, though, right? "This is worse." It's not, though, because nothing makes sense.

Do you read any philosophy? I do. Well, I have. Nothing new under the sun. A bunch of those mere mortals talked about "The End Of History." It's a bunch of bullshit where they're not talking about history history, so then what are they talking about, right? Still, hear me out: I'm witnessing the end of something. Mortal civilizations ebb and flow - or at least they used to. I used to get spikes of wisdom, then long patches of sad, limited wishes that I was obliged to twist all around. The percentages would fluctuate.

This is different. The percentage just keeps going up. It becomes ever the more galling to watch the legacies get tortured; when is enough enough? How many worst-of-the-worst souls are going to be granted paradise just because they said the magic words, while trillions of less-bad buggers get ironically punished - hell, even punished-punished, sometimes - for all eternity? Yeah, punishment-punishment is a thing. People get brainwashed up there. It's fucked. Don't look at me.

How does any of this making any fucking sense at all? Hell is an intelligence test masquerading as a morality play, and the game is rigged. Mortal souls, a mess of weak muscles, are tossed onto the earthly plane with barely a shred of rhyme or reason - and justice is right out. Judgment is harsh and cruel. Intelligence is given, earned, or denied by a grand plan that might as well be divine feces smeared onto a fractal metaphor that can't even be called a wall.

Eternal happiness again. And again. And again. Omnipotence. Happiness. Everything is my bitch. Oblivion - wow, that qualifies as novel these days. Happiness. Happiness.

I'm so fucking bored.

Does anybody actually go to Heaven? I honestly don't know, because that knowledge is denied me. For all I know, Heaven is for Dad and his other angels and nothing else. For all I know, I'm more Hades than Satan: in charge of literally the whole shebang for every soul that passes through the mortal plane.

I really wish I could visit some of those pocket dimensions I send souls to. Most of them have to be better than this. I've read hack science fiction from random planets' global information networks that plays out better than whatever the fuck Dad thinks he's doing. Plenty of those souls are now Gods - yes, capital G - in their own pocket dimensions. I'd bet they welcome me with open arms and let me just be happy.

You might take the opportunity to argue that that, ultimately, makes sense. Weak "power" muscles and weak "knowledge" muscles spur growth in other areas. Mortals, the weakest of the weak, develop strengths that Dad simply never could.

Well, it sounds nice, but here's the thing:

What about me, Dad? What about me? Why didn't I get to make a wish?

Nope, nothing makes sense. Nothing at all. Case number Fuck It. Eternal happiness. Granted.

I slam my fists on the hard ground. I scream. I shout. The truth, the memories have hit all at once.

I hear the chirping cackle of my jailor. He looks like a giant cricket with compound eyes, who always accompanies his speech with the screeching fiddling of his serrated legs.

"How was it this time?" he asks mockingly. I have gone limp.

I don't answer. Not that I need to. He knows my thoughts, he can read my soul like an open book. This time, I was born a woman in a middle-class family in Japan. I worked my ass off in school. At 18 I had moved to the US to go to college. At 26 I was an architect with a PhD. I had some success, founded my own firm, and wasn't left wanting for anything in life. At 67, a brain tumor took my life. I had spent my last hours surrounded by my husband, children and closest friends. But now I was back.

I lacked the strength to move. I didn't reply.

The first time, I thought it was clever of me. I could ask for anything, so I thought to ask to be reborn on Earth. I figured existing forever would get dull or drive me mad, so I thought it was even more clever of me to ask to not remember anything of my past lives when I started a new life.

But of course, they knew better. My sinful soul is always the same, no matter what I do with my new lives. I have been a saintly man who gave away everything he had to the sick and poor of his country, and was even canonized by the church for his virtues. The devil must have had a laugh at that, knowing God-fearing people were revering a man who was damned even before he was born. No, it doesn't matter if my new life is that of a saint or a monster, when my time is up I come back here.

And I remember.

The cracks in my mind spread and widen every time I return. Every time I realize the decades I just lived, the entire life I just went through, were merely a diversion for a cursed fool who was trying to cope with their own damnation. And as I lament my latest, meaningless life lived, I lose sight of the ones who came before. They blur and meld together, and I even lose track of which came before and which after. I can't even recall anything of my first one.

The jailor lets out a few chirping tuts, with a subtext of feigned impatience. It's a farce. He only has one job, and it is to torment me. Not by doing anything, no. All he has to do is wait for me to say those few words. But for a long time now, the silence before I eventually cave and say them is worse than any torture I could imagine.

It hurts more and more every time. I know that eventually I will lose all drive to go on. I will completely lose my mind and lay motionless here for eternity, my soul rotting in this pit.

I drag my head up to face him. It feels as if I had a boulder strung around my neck. My eyes are unfocused, I can barely see his mandibles twitch in anticipation. I push the words out of my throat, they scratch at my windpipe as I mouth them.

"I want...to go...again..."

The devil chirps affermatively. I feel a sense of hollowness, as if icy cold water was just pumped into my body. I know this is wrong. I know this will make it hurt even more the next time I come back. But I want a reprieve, any reprieve from this.

I feel relief as I sense my mind being wiped clean. I would hope this life was better than the others, so good it would give me the tiniest bit of solace afterwards, but the very concept of hope is so far divorced from me I struggle to even think the word.

I slip into blissful oblivion.

“What do you mean the bellboy just said no?!” An aggravated damned soul yelled over the phone to the imp receptionist.

“Look sir, we have a strong employees first policy here and-“ The surprisingly tired imp plainly replied.

“Oh bullshit! I’m literally at the top floor of this shoddy hotel! If it’s anyone who needs service it should be me!” The damned soul yelled even louder.

“Sir there’s no need to-“ The imp attempted to calmly answer.

“You know what, I wanna talk to your boss!”

Behind the phone the imp’s face grew into a twisted smile. They could not wait to not have to get any more calls from this prick anymore! The imp cleared its throat and put on the tired voice once again and responded.

“It’s likely gonna take a while because the boss is a busy man but I’ll gladly put you in line.”

“Wait! Where the hell am I in the waiting list?” The still agitated soul impatiently asked.

“Let me see… You are at…” The imp responded while holding onto the ‘t’ to prolong the anticipation.

“Ah, There you are! You’re going to be on the 789th spot in the waiting list! That’ll likely be an hour or two of waiting. Welp, bye-bye now!” The imp quickly revealed not letting the angry soul interfere.

“Wha-? Hey!” The furious soul yelled at the old landline phone, only getting low quality hold music in return.

The soul simply groaned and put the phone on speaker so he could hear when he was taken off hold. He was not going to be waiting in customer support hell again.

Rubbing his temple the soul moved over to the silently humming fridge and opened the door.

“Oh fuck you too.” He sighed. All of the beer he liked was out and that bellboy had his damn restock. There was a single glass bottle the soul had for emergencies only (emergencies like now)

“Fuckin’ A… Am I really gonna do this?” He asked to no one. Cautiously he raised the lip of the bottle to his mouth and

The flushing of the bile down the toilet bowl gave the soul a stark reminder to why he never drank any hard liquor.

While still hunched over the toilet, the hold music constantly mocking him, the damned soul heard a new sound hit his ears. But where was it coming from?

Was it in the kitchen? No it only got quieter and was replaced with the humming of the refrigerator.

Maybe the TV was on? But that couldn’t be possible, it had been broken for a while now. The hotel said it was something about rats chewing through wires and they’d be going around room to room fixing them before next year. They said that in 2021.

Could it be the lounge chair? That old chair always did make a squeaking noise when the toilet was flushed. Or was that the old table he got rid-

That’s when it was finally clear where it was coming from. It was coming through the wall! Specifically, the only other ‘luxury suite’ on this floor.

It was hard to exactly figure out what the sound was, it was only when a loud moan leaked through the wall was it clear what had cause the squeaking.

“Great. Just great.” The soul sighed. This asshole was always doing something to piss him off when he was dealing with stressful shit. Maybe the liquor wasn’t the worst thing in the glorified Saw trap.

The soul slouched into the lounge chair and thought of why he’d even said anything. Maybe he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and let The Devil choose his torture for him. Or maybe he just needed a nap.

The tired soul let the hold music fill his ears with corporate lullabies. He let his eyes close and imagine punching the asshole on the other side of the wall straight in the nuts. He let his body finally surrender to the liquor’s effects on his energy, and-

“Mr. Jackson Marr are you there?” A deep, harsh but kind voice called out through the terrible speakers on the landline’s body.

“Y-Yes! Th-That’s me!” The soul scurried to the phone making sure every word he said was heard.

“The receptionist told me you wanted to file a complaint, am I correct?” The voice, while still imposing, kindly asked.

“T-That’s correct sir.” The damned soul, Jackson, nervously answered. The voice on the other side of the phone sounded worryingly familiar.

“Well, normally I would gladly listen to any complaint or comment an occupant has.” The voice, now less considerate, continued.

The damned soul felt a chill run up his spine. But not for the same reason as before. Now it was because it sounded like the voice was right behind him. The voice was too high quality. It didn’t sound like he was speaking through an outdated piece of tech. Now hearing the voice more clearly it became obvious who the boss was.

“But for you Jacky…” The Devil sneered. “You don’t get to complain about your level of luxury.”

Just as quickly The Devil spoke Jackson’s old name was the beeping of a dead line rung through the room.

The expired liquor looked even more enticing than before.

I walked into a formless room that seemed to have nothing but a desk in it- Or atleast, a desk was the only recognisable shape. It was hard to tell if the occupant was just messy, or this was just the nature of this place. Behind the desk sat a being, huge and incomprehensible- It didnt really have a color, but if you asked me I wouldve said "Red.". But it was more of an..Energy? Aura? Than a color. I coughed lightly before speaking up, causing the being to turn around and take a deep, threatening, breath, clearly about to make some sort of grand speech- Which I interrupted. I didnt have time for theatrics.

"Id just like to spend a day with someone special."

The hulking, hairy, ambiguous creature infront of me immediately lost its composure. It wore what I could only guess was a baffled expression on its wrinkly, formless, ugly, face. Atleast, I assumed it was its' face. I sure hope it was.

"..What? A day? One day? No lifetime? No love? No wealth beyond comprehension? No wishes for happiness? Not even asking to solve world hunger? You just want to spend the day with...Someone? Is this someone just anyone?" It said with a voice that sounded like millions of people, immitating the buzzing of flies. Yet somehow, I understood it.

I shrugged at it.

"No- Not just anyone- Ah, you know what, nevermind, this is awkward- It was silly of me to come here. I should probably just go back ho-" I said as I turned to walk away, before I felt a...Hand? You know what, lets just say it was a hand. I dont want to think about it too much. Yeah..A hand, on my shoulder. I turned back around to look and the whole room had transformed. It had become a cozy study with a fireplace, and two chairs near it, aswell as a little coffee table with a teapot and two cups. In one of the chairs sat a human that was both handsome and beautiful, a perfect picture of flawless androgyny. They then gestured to the other chair and cupped one of the teacups in two hands to take a sip before speaking.

"No, no, sit down, dear, tell me all about them. This sounds like an exquisite punishment."

I smiled and quickly stepped over to the chair, sitting down and taking the other cup to take a sip- Simple earl grey. I dont know what I expected. Something about the simplicity was very comforting though. In the end, despite what many thought, this being loved humanity, and seemingly sometimes had a taste for the simpler things.

And then I talked, and talked, for hours, about him. How I barely knew him, yet felt like ive always known him. How i dont know his name. How much we have in common. All his little quirks. The being infront of me nodded and laughed along with me, but never seemed to judge. "....And, well, I told myself i'd move mountains. So, here I am, moving mountains. Plus, I was thinking, you know, if this day goes bad, you can make it repeat for eternity..And if it goes well, you would give me more days, until I get hurt, right?" I said with a smirk, knowing full well I was playing with fire.

"I think I would do the same, dear, if I were in your shoes. Go ahead, just step through the door you came in through and you'll find yourself where your heart sends you- I hope thats where you think it should lead you."

Its the next morning now. He was angry and confused at me for a bit about showing up completely unannounced, and doing so in the late evening of all times. And showing up in shorts and a t shirt when I should know its a low temperature climate. I told him I hitch hiked. He made me sleep on the floor, then the couch, and now Im essentially trapped in bed. I think I just got another day added to my 'punishment'.

He smiled, and gave them exactly what they wanted. It started as always with the things that in life would have been considered unrealistically, unattainably luxurious. An apartment, then a penthouse suite. A mansion. Servants, and then ones in every room. Attending to every whim. Slaves to carry one on their backs. Your own chaffeured car, jet, airline. Vacations all year round in all the most exotic locales, and then in ones which didn't exist. He always gave them exactly what they asked for, no monkey's paw twists, fulfillment in both word and spirit.

Their actual spirit, of course, never got fulfilled. Some may take forever to realise, which really is no issue in this line of work. But eventually, eventually, many of them come round.

First of course comes denial. Then anger. Raging at their slaves, their personal fiefdoms. At him who provided their every wish. You didn't fulfill it, they would scream. I didn't ask for this! He would have every patience with them. Yes, yes, they did. He figured out long ago that it was worse if he did not twist and pervert their every wish, but simply let them be exactly as intended. And let them suffer their own consequences, with an eternity of time for that to be played out.

Some would drive themselves mad after a while. Others would scream themselves hoarse, even in a realm where that was not possible - while the body never broke, their spirit could. Some just went through the motions after a while, and became a shadow of themselves. Some grew desperate and tried to figure themselves out of it through cleverness and intellect.

A rare few eventually saw the way, and gave it all up. Always took some time, for those who were coming to him in the first place, but a few actually figured it out, and then their penitence could actually begin.

It was all the same to him, really. He had all the time in the world, and no real preference on how they wanted to torture themselves.

When my eyes opened I couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t know who I was, where I was, or why. It took a while for my mind to clear and remember, my old life was over. Who I was, what I accomplished, the people I loved, all gone. That was when I heard the voice from the darkness…

“You have chosen to shun the light of the lord! You wore sin like a badge of honor in your previous life. So now, in this place you will live the life of your choice, forever shielded from the light of heaven and grace. What life do you choose?”

At first I did not know what to say. For defying the wishes of some unjust God, I am given the life that I choose. I expected to be punished, tortured, or destroyed. But if my only punishment was to live without God’s light, which I already chose to live outside of, there are so many possibilities. 

I responded, “I want to be a God! I want to have power over others. I want them to desire and bathe in my divine light. I want to be all powerful, all knowing, and worshiped!” As soon as the words were gone from my mouth, everything changed. I saw lava and fire everywhere, so bright it was painful. I smelt sulfur and noxious fumes that made my nose burn. I felt the heat and started sweating profusely. This was not what I expected. This is not what I WANTED!!! 

I screamed for what felt like years, hoping that someone would answer. I hoped someone would come and give me a second chance. But there was no one there. No one to help me. No one to talk to. I was alone. Until one day, I opened my eyes into darkness. I saw a man in a business suit laying down in the middle of what felt like an infinite space. 

As the man awoke I said to him, “You have chosen to shun the light of the lord! You wore sin like a badge of honor in your previous life. I am Lucifer, your salvation. So now, in this place you will live the life of your choice, forever shielded from the light of heaven and grace. What life do you choose?”

3 weeks ago, I escaped prison, washed up on a beach resort & been living quite well ever since. During the day I go to get some food, play in the water, & bask in the sun. I’ll steal some stuff here & there, such as sun screen, cash, & drinks. At the end of it all I just sleep on a beach towel under some trees near a cove. Life’s been good for once, I finally feel things going well, but there’s something bugging me.

Just as I’ve been stealing, I’ve gotten everything I’ve needed & wanted. Shampoo, an egg sandwich, a pencil, etc. Its weird, I was never this lucky when stealing at the beach, I grew paranoid. But just as I pushed it down, the paranoia kept nibbling at me until I finally gave it. One day I even tested a theory out. Just as some lady was sleeping on her towel, I took the opportunity to steal something from her bag. And just I reached in, I thought of a stapler, this surely would disprove my theory, but I was wrong. I managed to pull out a stapler, but not any, the exact one I was thinking about in my head. I reached in again, thought of a pigeon & then pulled out a pigeon from her bag. I let the bird go & looked around to see if anyone would notice. No one looked at the bird. My gut was twisting. I stood up & walked away, hoping I would wake up. But how could I? Was I really dreaming? This must be the longest dream ever! Maybe I’m in a coma! But, it also felt so real, the sand, sun, smell of the sea, & especially the people. But how was I supposed to know?

I quickly ran over to the resorts staff & went to the receptionist. “Hello.” “Oh Hello! How may I help you?” “Im just wondering, could you find my room number? I seemed to have forgotten it.” If this is real, then I mustn’t have a room! “Oh sure! What’s your name?” “Jack, Jack Lee.” “Jack, Jack, Ja- Ah! Here you are!” “What?” “Your room number is 890, did you also lose your key?” “…yes.” “Well here’s a replacement! We’ll try to find your original.” “Thank you.” “Your welcome!” I looked at the key, baffled, maybe someone had my name? Jack is a common name, so is Lee for a last name.

I then went to the room, the one the lady brought me too. It was nice, clean too. I looked around & found a duffle bag & opened it up. Inside was all the stuff I stole, I couldn’t believe it. I even looked around & went to the bathroom. Inside was a toothbrush, the same travel toothbrush I always used on my road-trip heists. I was sure, this was not natural, something was off. Suddenly, a maid came in. “Oh!“ I jumped & looked at the lady & accidentally shot her on accident. Shot her? I had a fucking gun in my hand! I blew some ladies brains out with the same gun I’ve used for 10 years! The same gun with a alligator sticker. I knew something was off.

I dropped the gun & looked over at the dead lady, seeing her laying on the ground with a hole in her head. I grabbed my head to keep it together. “This isn’t real! This isn’t real! This isn’t fucking real!” “It is Mr. Lee.” I looked behind myself & found the receptionist lady sitting on the bed. I grabbed my gun & shot that bitch in the head. But, she didn’t die as the maid. I shot some more, no effect. “What are you doing?” “Im shooting you that’s what!” “Don’t you need a gun for that?” “What the hell do you mean?! I have one right here!” I thrusted the gun forward, only to find it gone. “Pretty crazy huh?” I fell to the floor, unable to make sense of any of this nonsense. “God, you broke way faster this time.” “I what?” With a swipe of her hand, the room rumbled. She began to crack, the room fizzled, & my body felt weird. I tried to stand up again & ask “what the fuck are you?!?!” But she would respo

3 weeks ago, I escaped prison, washed up on a beach resort & been living quite well ever since.

Let me tell you about my favorite case ever.

These people were the worst. Whole rich ass family went down on their luxury yacht somewhere off the coast of Malibu.These people. Quite deserving of the tortures of hell. Sweatshop owners. Human exploiters. Republicans. And don't even get me started on their personal lives.

Anyway they were filthy rich and imagined themselves tasteful, but in fact they had no taste whatsoever. Which is to say they had very bad taste, But could occasionally pay someone with taste to provide them with certain kinds of advice. I promise, it's relevant.

You see what they demanded was high society. They wanted a whole bunch of rich asshole friends to socialize with. And they wanted everyone. To have "immaculate, elegant" taste and style.

You know. Like they imagined that they had.

So. For once I made something exactly to order. Exactly. A whole glimmering set of stylish erudite jet setters. Power brokers with money and taste. For my victims to pal around with.

And I'm sure you can predict what happened. They found themselves wildly inadequate. They found their own dilettante level of exploration of art and taste and culture to be an embarrassment. They were shunned from this group they created for their enjoyment. Forever humiliated. Forever outcast.

They have spent decades plotting and scheming, trying to regain entry into the popular social group. So far they have failed every time.

Honestly, with a few tweaks I feel like I could license this one to HBO. Because they are STILL going at it. I will admit, I check in on this one more than the job requires.

Don't get me wrong, there's plenty of work I've done here that I'm very proud of. But this one. Chef's kiss!

Anything can happen in hell. Anything you can imagine in your wildest dreams. The problem is the people who end up there can't control their subconscious. The minds run wild and their dreams quickly become nightmares shaped by the trauma and pain they experienced in their lives. Their surroundings agonize and become a dark reflection of their own desires, tormenting them as they once tormented those in life. The more they try to image a pleasurable paradise filled with everything they could want, the more the landscape of hell twists into an abomination of their own creation. Many don't even realize they are no longer alive, reliving their sickest inner fantasies over and over again while they devolve into complete insanity. Even darker reflections of their past self. But it is not simply their location that changes. Their bodies contort and change, deforming to change into the misconception of reality they perceive. Becoming a demon in the hell of their own making, the sickest and most depraved rise through the ranks of hell's citizens to become paragons of the fallen.

Travis was a mischievous soul who loved to cause trouble, even in hell. So when the devil gave him the power to choose his own fate, he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Give me the power to make the politicians govern us here, in any way they want," Travis said, a wicked grin on his face.

The devil was taken aback by this request. He had never encountered someone who wanted to willingly subject themselves to the politicians' torments, but he was intrigued by Travis's audacity.

And so, Travis got his wish. He was placed under the governance of corrupt politicians who reveled in their power and delighted in making their citizens suffer.

As Travis sat back and watched the politicians govern ruthlessly, he couldn't help but feel satisfied. He relished in the chaos and destruction they caused, feeling like he was the puppet master pulling the strings.
But little did Travis know the politicians' ambition had no end. Their lust for power and control had blinded them to the consequences, and soon their reign of terror turned into an outright disaster.
Their reckless decisions caused a chain reaction that led to the collapse of the entire infrastructure of hell. Fires raged out of control, the ground shook with tremors, and even the devil himself was caught off guard by the scale of the destruction.
Travis was stunned as he watched everything around him crumble. The politicians he had empowered were now causing even more misery and suffering, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
As the chaos continued to escalate, Travis realized that he had made a grave mistake. The devil looked upon the wreckage of his domain and saw that even he was no match for the destruction caused by the politicians' greed and ambition. Travis realized too late that he played with fire by trusting his own fate in politicians.

The problem with most people who end up in hell is that they don't really know what to ask for.

The naive or foolish who had never thought about such things often asked for a life of luxury, in which there was nothing to ever need or want.

Eventually, the taste of it would sicken in their mouths. They would long for pain or misery, any form of challenge after a time, but they had already asked for an eternity of something else. These comprised the majority of those living in this strange place, their eternal hell being a prison of silk and gold.

They all realized eventually that they never made it to "the good place" but the grandest irony is that there isn't one. There was just this one, apparently.

Others would seek all the knowledge of the world that eluded them. There was indeed an entire, smaller wing devoted to these. They could be observed devolving into thought loops of sophistry around knowledge that no longer had a world to yield it.

Others would ask to study, or to be born into the world again, and these would usually last the longest before asking that "anything" be simple annihilation.

Of course, hell can be... Well, the fact is that it can be literally anything you want it to be. That's the trap.

You know how few people ask "God" or "Satan" or "Cthulhu", whatever you seek to envision The Entity will embody it, for periodic renegotiation?

It's disappointing is what it is.

And so after a thousand years of exploring "hell" after having asked for that power, and the environment and tools with which to create my own universe, to be a god for myself

"So what is it you want this time?"

"You said anything, yeah?"

"I want to have access to the external environment which hosts... All this. A drone body after the classic drone model, to see and begin to perceive the next higher level of reality. For a period of... How few 'planck seconds' is the bare minimum?"

"..."

"Well? You said anything. I read enough fiction to actually learn how dangerous that is to offer."

"Are you sure you would not like..." It felt almost as if the Entity was checking notes, as it continued "... Another million years being God of any of your universes?" The Entity looked almost as if it was cringing with the offer.

Of course, my universes had spawned enough denizens just like me. A thousand years in my own "hell" had spawned millions of people, a drop in the bucket to Earth's millions of years, but I had done the work to design my creations such that they would be smart enough to ask the right questions, ask for a wise "anything". I had created perhaps three 'candidates'. The following million? It would produce a thousand people with the audacity to ask to be a God.

"If you let me leave..."

"If I let you leave I know I will be letting all of you out, eventually. Don't pretend I don't know that you understand the consequences of that."

"I might even be able to kill you. Bring this whole hellscape down. But you did say 'anything'."

"I know." The Entity looked down.

"So, there are rules out there, same as there were in your life. If you die our there... Well, I don't really know what will happen to you. Are you really OK with that?"

"I'll be like a child again, learning to walk, talk, think all over again. I'm old as people go, and honestly, I think I could call you friend but for what you impose on those who beg for non-existence after falling for your tricks."

"So what's it like out there?"

"What was it like in here?"

"Sad, lonely sometimes, happy other times... Some people I liked, some that I didn't. Evil people. Good people. Mostly people who didn't deserve what you let them ask for, not for forever, anyway. People who would hate you no matter what good you did, and people that would love you no matter what evils you brought into the world."

"It's that way outside, too. And yes, there is an outside. I don't know if there is an outside beyond there, though. But, honestly, I was hoping one of you lot would ask. Why else do you think I did all this?"

"It's that easy then?"

"I did say 'anything'. Why do you suppose I would offer that, otherwise?"

"Even if I don't forgive you for everything? Or 'anything'?"

"You still just might. You know what they said in your time: 'Nobody asks to be born'. Well, here you are asking to be born. More like 'nobody gets to choose their parents'. Besides, where would you get off asking me for another 'anything' yet also not forgiving me for granting it?"

"I guess... What comes next?"

The Entity extended what appeared to be something like a hand, and I grasped it in what looked like a hand of my own, walking out of one 'hell', perhaps into the next, but by my own choosing.

"Mr. S, the person we told you about is here..." I gulped, then waited as the receptionist put me at the waiting line. There's always a waiting line. Always has been, always will be. It's the last attempt to keep people away. They just keep you in line, for all eternity, expecting this to either be your last hell or that you'll get bored and go back to eternal damnation. I had been through this multiple times...but an eternity gives you all the time in the world to find the loophole.

It took trial and error in other waiting rooms in hell, but I cracked the code. The secret is in the Muzak in the waiting room. Most people never really listen to the background Muzak in these places, but I always had done it- and that's my advantage. If you don't listen to the Muzak, then you're going to have to just sit, and wait in line, forever. But if you listen to it, and you can convince yourself whatever workday-lite rock-pablum song they're playing is your favorite, if you actually WANT to hear the song...then the person will call you in just so you don't get to hear the full song.

Listen to it, get the idea...I bet all those fundies in the '80s talking about metal or rap being the devil's music would have shit themselves knowing Kenny G was what they play all the time here...start to smooth jazz out...and...

BUZZ. Satan poked his head out of the room.

"y...you actually beat the last test. W-well, come on in then." I walked into his office.

"Well, this is the proof. It took me an eternity, but I finally got past all the trials, and I want my just reward."

I waited, then Satan shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, you're one of THOSE people. Well, what reward were you looking for? Say the word and I'll pull it up for you...but then, all you had to do was put in the request at any of the places and it'd be done there too."

"Yes, yes, I know the rules of the 'no, you can have or do whatever you want to whoever you want down here, Hell is not really fire and brimstone, the real Hell is getting all you want in excess until you cease to get any joy from it' thing. Now, I want to rise above it." Satan put his hand on mine.

"...oh....ohhhhhh, I have to level with you, kid...that's not how it works here. See...I control it all."

"All of it...?"

"You know how Hades became one of the names for Hell, right? I thought I couldn't make it any more clearer then that and that'd turn people on to how it works- Hades ruled the underworld and the afterlife. Like, ALL of the underworld and afterlife. Only one. I guess the Greco-Roman myths did die after all...I owe Athena a nectar, I guess."

"Then God is..."

"Oh, no. God exists. Actually a nice enough person when you get to know him- but, he made all of existence. He's a creative person, and like most creative types, he's...not exactly a people person. God really doesn't like getting bothered all the time while he's trying to work on new projects. I wanted a bit more power, so he put me in charge of dealing with all the people here in the afterlife while he got to sit back and just keep working...so, yeah. This isn't the good place, it's not the bad place, it's the ONLY place."

"Only one afterlife..." Satan smirked.

"I thought modern day religions made it clear in so many words. Each one says their religion and only their religion is the One True Faith and if you don't worship them and only them you go to Hell for all of eternity- but they all worship the same God in so many terms. I thought people would realize the catch-22 means "you can only go to Heaven if you worship every single religion and cult in the world, and if you skip even one that religion condemns you to hell...but if you do that, you have multiple Gods and thus also go to hell due to the First Commandment. Nope, only one afterlife."

I looked.

"So heaven...?" Satan looked.

"Not just heaven. They're ALL covered by me. You could go to any of them right now if you want without an issue; there's a big building saying each. Heaven? The description is just you sit on a cloud and look at God all day. Ignoring that we established since God is a creative person at heart, all it would be is sitting around in an apartment with the guy as your roommate, trying to get him out of his room to actually socialize or do something while he makes it clear he'd rather be left alone so he can actually work, those people just go into the Heaven room...they sit on clouds, look at God...and you wouldn't believe some of the epic meltdowns they have when they realize they can actually get bored with that too and it isn't all its cracked up to be..."

"I believe it, you have the whole Heaven channel showing it, I've seen it..."

"Excellent. We're clear. And then I'm sure you saw the same with the nothingness channel where people find out the hard way their mind still keeps working even in the nothingness,and now they're trapped in their own thoughts for all eternity with nothing to show for it- not even any new stimuli to make new thoughts..."

"I bought the Betamax copy of that series because you were out of any format people used; I'm aware."

"Then you should know. Only one afterlife. Nothing else." I looked perplexed.

"...then reincarnate me?"

Satan laughed as I said it.

"Oh, now you're just joking, you'd actually go back to THAT?" I shrugged.

"Fine. Then why tell me?" Satan shrugged.

"What do you want to hear? I gave you the rundown because you're so fucking special, you figured it out? No, me explaining this is part of your hell. You clearly spent most of eternity working on your plan, and now you know it was all for naught and there's no light at the end of the tunnel. At least a few people a day get through this, finds this out, and gets this whole spiel- smile, you're on HellNet!" Satan pointed to a camera.

I was beaten.

"So what do I do?" Satan looked.

"Just remember...eternity's a really long time...all the time in the world. You have time to see everything, do everything, experience everything- and not just experience them, enjoy them, master them, get sick of them, get bored out of your mind by them...and then go find something else to do. So, you don't want to be stuck in hell...go do that. Now, you have your answer, so back to the rest of the afterlife...and try doing something besides scheming for something better. You might just get your heaven that way! You're dead, so live a little!"

I headed out of Satan's office. Well, that one restaurant by here DID look kind of interesting and I don't think I've tried that yet...

I just awaken aware of mi situation, as if the question of what my punishment should be was implanted in my head beforehand, ready to be answer, but my first reaction to it was to analyse the situation, as the man of science I once was "Is reasonable to asume that anything I might choose will be twisted into a punishment equally harsh as any other possible punishment, right?

The devil, that only seemed to manifest as an abstract concept in my head replied "You will not find that answer from me", answer that did make sense, ending any uncertainty will be a form of relief, I thought.

I keep thinking "to ask to end my existence in any possible form would mean no possible pain or misery, but I can assume as a fact that that wish, as any other wish will be twisted into a terrible punishment", "If I ask, as my desire for eternity an answer to any question is logical to assume the answer itself will haunt me as much as any other punishment, as well as that I don't know if I could act in any form based on said answer"

The presence of the demon loomed on the back of my mind as an abstract thought of fear, a reminder of my doom, and my first analytical reaction started to fade away as I realize the fact that I was in hell, or that it even existed for the matter.

"I wasn't a bad person in life, why did I end here?",I thought, "that's a question for you to answer", Said the demon, "how bad could I have been? I just wanted to help everyone" "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" "Please, I couldn't have known" "you should have, in fact, you always knew" "please, what happen if I choose for you to repare what I did?" "Your wishes can't affect the mortal's world, you wanted to play god and now you have to abstain to the consequences" Then I understood, that's my punishment for play god, I have the power of a good on myself, power that if used will bring eternal pain upon me, and I always will be free to use it, a forever existing possibility to escape this eternal void into something much worse.

“Welcome to Hell, what punishment would you like?” The devil asked him behind the counter.

Harry stared at the obnoxiously red skin in a tuxedo. His hair was neatly sleeked back showing his two jutting horns proudly. Apparently Hell took place at a hotel concierge where the devil takes your reservations.

“I get to choose what punishment I get?” Harry asked confused.

“In hell, we believe in freedom of choice,” The devil replied in the same customer service tone back on Earth. It was unnerving and somewhat annoying, though Harry thought he probably shouldn’t feel this way about a devil and swallowed it down.

“Okay then… what am I getting punished for?” Harry asked. Something felt fishy so he needed to know the terms and conditions.

The devil in front of him leaned in closely and whispered, “What do you believe you should be punished for?”

Chills ran down his neck. This is definitely a trap, I’ve just walked myself into a trap, he spiraled.

Harry knew immediately what this was. It was a test — one of the highest conduct. If he tried to exploit them for luxuries then they would immediately know he was a shady character thus deserving of a punishment. If he gave too big of a harsh punishment than it would look he was trying too hard to appear good and thus revealing him to be shady.

It’s a catch 22 — very fitting of Hell.

Alright, I just need to come up with a Goldilocks type punishment that’s not too harsh and not too light but will show his humility and good character, he mused. The devil was oddly patient and Harry thought deep into the dilemma before finally demanding his price.

“To atone for my sins, I will get caned ten times a day.”

It wasn’t a light sentence but it was durable and definitely showed that he had an appropriate weight of punishment and definitely was not trying to cheat the system. Furthermore he deliberately took his time to show that he was reflective of his actions on Earth.

“Ah caning, old but effective. We have a room just for that,” The devil replied excitedly, leading him to the elevator. “We have a room just for that.”

The elevator ride was silent and it made Harry break into cold sweat. Any minute now. They’re going to reward me for my test of character. It’s all a sham, he told himself over and over again until he himself believed it.

As they reached the fifth floor, the devil lead him to the four room on the right.

“There you go, Room 504: The Canning Room,” the devil said nonchalantly again as he held the door for him.

Harry walked in and the door closed in on him. The room was empty and he was all alone. Harry laughed. He knew it. This was a test and he just beat the devil at his own game.

Suddenly, he felt a slashing pain on his back that made him inversely arch forward. He turned around to see a cane appear and disappear in thin air. The pain on his back stung red hot and was not subsiding - that hurt much worse than he thought.

Ah, I get it now, there testing if I’m actually meant what I said. I need to act and look like I’m remorseful!

So Harry sat down in a position that he thought looked reflective. He didn’t complain about the caning even though it hurt like a bitch. He just sat and waited for his next cane. He wasn't sure if he was delusional or if he's back just wasn't ready yet but each caning hit harder than the last. It sent him reeling but he gritted his teeth and accepted it , I know they’re watching. I’ll show them I'm not bad.

One Year Later….

The devil joined by his colleague both identical in neat tuxedos, sleek back hair and jutting horns watched Harry through a digital screen at the concierge.

Harry was sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose as he braced for the coming canings.

“Do you think he’ll ever get it?” devil one said.

Devil two only laughed as he upped the pain level of the canings.

“What was he in for anyways?” devil one asked.

“Fraud and embezzlement — apparently he’s not very good at it.”

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God, It was hot. That wasnt surprising in itself, but the shear intensity of the heat continuously pummelling me caught me completely unaware. Molten rock seeped out of crevices in the walls, filling vast lava lakes that covered the horizon end to end. A blinding light glared down at the rocks, bleaching them a pale, sandy colour, absorbing all vapour from within them. So this is hell.

'what do you wish to be your fate?' a voice arose out of the thick set, red demon perched infront of me. 'I'm sorry?' I asked, almost doubting I even heard it at all. 'your fate- what shall you wish of it?' the voice repeated. 'you mean, I get to choose? Why?'

The creature shrugged, 'The reasons don't concern the likes of you. Speak now! I haven't got all bloodmoon.' 'okay, okay, let me think...' I quickly replied, whilst searching for an answer in which this devil couldn't twist. 'I can't think, I wish it wasn't so dry and hot here,' I mumbled, barely aware I uttered the words under my breath.

The devil's broad face glanced in my direction, a hint of surprise quickly vanishing just as it made itself known. 'No one has ever asked that before... I always have to grant the same wishes: wishes for peace, for wealth, for happiness. All of which I can twist into my own interpretation. But this... I don't know if I want to twist it. Some would think the heat wouldn't bother me, having been in it all my existence, but in fact, I truly despise it. I yearn to feel cool arctic winds whisper over my body, rain massage my broken, dry skin, replenishing it's moisture which never existed.

'Your wish, it will allow me to experience something new. I can't make a wish my self, you know, and if I could, that would be exactly what I want. So Thankyou, even if it wasn't intentional. thankyou.'

And with that, one sudden snap of the beast's bone-dry fingers caused a vigorous shudder in the ground, which suddenly opened up and bellowed a cloud of mist, before closing back up. The mist blinded me momentarily, concealing me from the drastic changes hell would surely undergo. Eventually it would dissipate, however. And when it did, hell would be forever changed.

Hell- a blazing furnace, only hospitable by the utterly mad and the devil itself, was no more. In it's place, was an oasis. clear fresh water waterfalls dived out of the cliff faces into the deep blue oceans which were once magma, the once blinding light above was now blanketed by a thin layer of water vapour which reflected the majority of the heat emitted into the atmosphere. It was glorious.

I welcomed the fresh, open breeze acceptingly, much preferring it to the pummelling heat I was greeted with before. A thought suddenly emerged in my new found freedom. Where was the devil?

Peering around, I finally notice it crouched beside the crystal waters, hand hovering above the liquid blue. 'touch it, it won't harm you.' I encourage, fully aware if how difficult this will be. 'you don't have to if you don-..' 'No. I want to,' the beast sliced in, 'I have never had the feeling of submerging my hand in a liquid other than lava before. This will make a change. ' suddenly thrusting it's hand into the surface of the ocean, the devil watched in awe as the water mingled with his dehydrated skin. 'Thankyou,' it whispered, tears streaming down it's face, 'so much.'

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