"Just write a book" they said. "It'll be easy," they said, "Everyone gets published these days." Yeah, well, it's a little harder when your editors are gods that will turn you into a gecko and use you as a ping pong ball if you don't write them exac...
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"STANDING IN A WHEAT FIELD IN KANSAS" WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. Except the wheat was the people. They were packed shoulder to shoulder. No light. No sound. Maybe there were some faint whispers, like the rustling of the light breezes through leaves. Was that people talking? Or was that just the sounds of the shades?
The ground was covered in black grass. You wouldn't have been wrong for mistaking it for carpet, though, because it had been trampled flat by eons of dead feet. A warm, most wind blew through. Black trees – poplars, Grover called them, and I was confused because I thought he'd said "popular" at the time – grew in clumps here and there.
I kept forgetting we are in a cavern. The ceiling was so high up I could trick myself into thinking it was just a cloudy sky. That image was broken by the stalactites, which glowed a faint gray and looked poised to empale us (I tried not to think about that, but it was hard when I could see some fallen ones buried into the ground around us.)
We tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. I kept my head down. I was afraid I might see someone I recognized among the miserable crowd. Occasionally they would come up to talk to us. I couldn't tell what they were saying, though, because their voices were only chattering, and eventually they would realize that and wonder off. It was just...sad. I wanted to somehow make these people happy, but I realized that that was impossible. They were stuck here. Forever.
The line of new arrivals snaked from the main gate towards a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:
JUDGEMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION
Welcome, Newly Deceased!
The two lines that came out were much, much smaller.
To the left, spirits were flanked my security ghouls. They were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment. It looked the most like what you might imagine from the Underworld. It was a waste land, with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating different torture areas. Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, or forced to run naked through cactus patches.
There was even worse things, too. One guy had to give a presentation, probably forever, and another was walking on a sheet of lego bricks.
The other line led down a valley to a small gated community – Elysium. Beyond a security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history. Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Sliver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass ripped in rainbow colors. Even from here, I could hear laughter and smell barbecue.
