ood evening, Jennifer Fairbanks. How are you?” The leather-skinned demon stroked his beard with thick fingers that tapered off at black claws.

I looked up with wide eyes, my hands trembling as they clutched a worn black purse. I puzzled at the white robe. I wanted to scream at the terrifying demon looming above me, but I knew his type thrived on fear. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

The horned beast smiled and growled. “Nobody ever wants small talk. Well, who can blame them? Straight to the point, then. You are dead. I am Xandern, and this is my office. I have the inglorious task of deciding how you will spend the rest of eternity.”

“I’m dead?”

I looked at the vacant metal folding chairs next to me, as if they might offer some clue. I glanced at the window, presumably holding back the smell of brimstone and the heat of tall fires. Behind it, more demons whipped and tortured people as they floated on islands of rock amidst red, flowing lava. An office with a view of Hell—was this supposed to be ironic?

Xandern laughed. It came out as a sadistic super-villain mad with power. “Yes, the only way to get here is to die.”

“The cancer finally got me. Took my sister and my aunt, too.” I clenched my teeth and exhaled sharply. Something wasn’t right. I opened my mouth and moved my tongue around. “These aren’t my teeth.”

“Actually, those are your teeth. The dentures you’ve been gluing to your gums for the past few years weren’t.”

I pulled a small compact out of my purse and examined my mouth, sneering into the small mirror and tipping it at extreme angles so I could see with one eye. Then I pulled the mirror away and saw my own eyes go wide. “My eyes! I can see without glasses.”

The demon snorted, leaning against the huge desk between them. “Your entire body has been restored to the prime of your life.”

“What? I look like a raisin. This isn’t the prime of anything.”

“Look again.”

I held up my young hands, sticking out of the drab sleeves. “Would you look at that?” I touched my own face and pinched one of my forearms. “It’s a miracle.”

“Quite.” The demon tapped one hand’s claws on the heavy wood surface, chipping splinters that flew in every direction. He glanced periodically at a red tablet sitting nearby.

“Why didn’t it start that way?” I had my soprano voice back now. Was it all some kind of trick? “Why am I here?”

“We’re in a kind of transition here. You could probably be any age you like. It’s all very technical and not very important or interesting. As for the other question, that’s a lot more complicated.”

“I shouldn’t be in Hell.” I couldn’t believe the words. I glanced at the window and back at his yellow cat-eyes. “I did everything I was supposed to from day one. I always went to church. I was a grandmother by forty, and when my daughter’s lousy husband cheated on her, I helped her raise my granddaughter like my own, too.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

I started to talk, but choked up. “The ungrateful child grew up to be a drug-abusing slut.”

The demon knit his brow. “Those are pretty harsh words.”

“I taught her right. Everything was just so difficult! I worked hard, prayed hard. The only thing that kept me going was the belief that someday, when it was all, over I’d finally get to be in a nice place where everything was soft and warm and nobody could hurt anymore. I suffered so that someday I could have a good life.”

“Yet here you are. It would seem you traded your only life for a chance at a better afterlife.”

I looked around, finally bringing my eyes back to the huge, goat-headed creature. “I don’t understand, I…” The stress and the fear finally overwhelmed me, and tears began to roll down my cheeks. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue from the same purse. I couldn’t think. A deep sense of betrayal seemed to filet my soul from whatever hope I’d clung to. After long minutes of sobbing, I finally choked it back and began taking shallow breaths. “I… don’t belong… here.”

The demon chortled, shaking his head so his beard swished back and forth. I looked down, unable to endure the horrible face.

“As much as I enjoy watching you cry, I’m due for a break here in a few minutes. I have another group of dead people coming in afterward.” He shrugged.

I bit my lip. Clearly, pleas for justice weren’t going to work. “What happens now?”

“Like I said, it’s my job to figure out where to put you.”

“What about my mother and friends? Can’t I see them?”

“Maybe some of them. It depends where they are and where you end up. We can’t really base any long-term decisions on things like that.”

“What about my ex-husband? Where did he end up?” I tried to be casual, but felt my eyes squint anyway.

The demon raised one eyebrow. “How long have you been divorced?”

“Fifteen years. He ran off with a bimbo. Said he didn’t want to watch another bitter woman grow old in our house. He was talking about our granddaughter.” I ran my fingers absently through my long brown hair. “I heard he died a few years back. Seems somebody who’d abandon his own posterity to go whoring around with a younger woman should deserve a pretty bad Hell, don’t you think? Didn’t even pay the alimony the judge ordered. He owes me something like a hundred and eighty thousand dollars.” I smirked, the thought making me both happy and mad.

“You never sued him?”

I shook my head. Maybe this was my chance. “The Lord says to forgive. It’s a sin to sue people. I never approved all these frivolous lawsuits. People are meant to do the right thing for the right reason, not because of lawyers. Wouldn’t have done any good, anyway. He moved to Argentina or someplace without so much as a word.”

“How’d you hear about his death?”

“Internet. Same as anybody.”

Xandern scratched the iron cords of his chest muscle, drawing blood. The wound burned closed right behind. “So what was the best part of your life, Ms. Fairbanks?”

“Don’t call me that, please.”

He glanced at his tablet again. “That was your legal name?”

“I only kept the name for the benefit of my daughter. Just call me Jennifer.” I looked at my fingernails, smooth and pretty again. I had no use for such things, but it diverted me for a moment.

“Okay, Jennifer. What was the best thing that ever happened to you?”

“Church.”

“Really?”

“It was the only time I got to sit down and let somebody else do the work for once.” I smiled at my joke. Then I bit my lip. It was an old woman answer, not the kind of thing somebody with my now twenty-something body would say. “I just liked the idea that someday there would be justice. Those who were weary and downtrodden would be taken to heaven and the sinners would all burn in Hell. I guess if I’m here it means I was a sinner?”

“Don’t let it bother you. A lot of people are surprised by their final judgment.”

“I thought…” I looked down again, playing with a stray thread of cotton.

“This is no time for false modesty, Jennifer. The rest of forever is on the line. Spit it out.”

What did it matter now? What did any of it matter? “I thought the final judgment was the Lord’s, or at least one of the apostles or saints. I never expected, well, you.”

He gave a crooked smile. “I get that a lot.”

“It just isn’t right. I gave up everything for this. I was strict with my kids. I kept all the commandments, even when Joshua Fulmer tried to hit on me after my husband left and I wanted nothing more than to have somebody to hold me. I did everything I was supposed to because that’s how I was going to get into heaven.” Tears fell anew, but this time my anger rose and I couldn’t help myself. “I was the good one. I followed the right path. I did everything right. So why am I here now looking at you? Why, after all my pain and long toiling, why am I in Hell?”

“Wow. You have no idea how tired I get of hearing people say that. Technically, this isn’t Hell. I mean it is, but it isn’t.”

“Just speak plainly to me, please.” I dragged out the, “please,” until I was ashamed to hear myself begging. “I’m so weary, from the moment I wake every morning to the darkness every night. I’m exhausted in soul and body. Just tell it to me straight.”

“Very well. This is technically Hell. But it’s more of an office, obviously.” He indicated the file cabinets with a sweep of his hand in one direction and the potted plants with a spiked tail in the other. “So you are in Hell, but this place does not serve as Hell for most people.”

I narrowed my eyes. There was something to what he’d just said. Was this his Hell? Had he been sentenced to work in this office? He’d never tell me. I waited for him to resume.

“Hell for most people is where they go after they die.”

“Punishment for sins,” I parroted from so many sermons.

“More or less.”

“This isn’t right then. I believed in the Bible and confessed my sins. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Right. That’s a common misconception.” He stood up, pacing on his hooves. “Christians especially come here with strong misconceptions. Take the word hell. That’s not a Jewish or Greek word. In fact, when the original letters and gospels of the New and Old Testament were written in their original languages, they never once contained the word hell. Hel, one ‘L,’ is actually from Norse mythology, begun more than half a millennium after the Bible. So how could it be a part of anything taught by Jesus?”

I furrowed my brow, clenching my jaw. Why was he saying this? The words were more horrible than his fanged red face. “But we’re here now.”

Xandern looked at the window longingly. “So we are. That’s not all, though. The concept of infinity wasn’t created until the 1300s. So how can you associate it with your beliefs, which purportedly originated long before then? Have you even asked yourself how these words got into the Bible you’ve been believing your whole life? Did you ever even read the whole Bible?”

“I’ve read it, of course.” I shrugged. Nobody told me studying the Bible was required to get into heaven.

“But you never asked any questions? Never meditated on the meaning of eternity or the nature of heaven and Hell?”

“I put my faith in it, and in those who knew it.” I pointed at him, forcefully at first, but then my finger dropped as doubt gnawed at me. I never let anybody, including myself, doubt my beliefs. “Are you saying the Bible is wrong?” My entire body slumped down in the chair, as everything I vehemently defended seemed to dissolve under sulfuric acid. A real burning pained my chest.

“A whole lifetime of fiery passion, and you abandon your sensibilities at the first sign of opposition?”

I looked up, gasped, and turned away in shame. “It’s not the same, is it? I mean, now I’m dead. There’s no arguing with facts.”

“So death is what it takes to accept facts? That’s new.” He raised one eyebrow in a way that made me feel uncomfortable.

“Was this a test of faith? Did I fail? After a lifetime of loyalty, I lose everything right after…” I began bawling, uncontrollably.

Xandern snorted again. A soft growl purred behind it. “This isn’t a test. That’s all over now.”

I whispered through tears, “One way or another, if I’m here with you, it means I failed.”

“You know, it takes some of the fun out of it if you figure it all out on your own.”

“Sorry?”

“Forget it. Look, I’m kind of busy and you’re clearly not up to any kind of interesting philosophical discussion. Let’s say we just get this over with so we can both get on with it.”

I nodded, taking another deep breath and dabbing at my eyes again.

The demon snapped his fingers. “I think I’ve got just the thing for you. Have you ever heard the old saying, ‘one man’s trash is another man’s treasure?’”

I whimpered a yes. I didn’t care for it, but I’d heard it.

“Have you ever thought what might be Hell to one person could be heaven to another?”

“No, but I guess it could be so.” I didn’t try to understand his words. The hot lashing of wailing souls behind the window was too strong an image to think of anything else.

“Indeed. So, Jennifer, why don’t you tell me what you think heaven would be like.”

I looked up, down, and then up again. “Heaven?”

“Sure. I’m not promising anything, of course. Just humor me.”

He would probably use this against me, but I didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t control anything. If this was my last chance to have my say, I would have it.

“In the church there are paintings of heaven. Angels, little cherubs with wings and harps, fly around in the clouds. I always thought it sounded so wonderful to have no cares, nobody who needed me to cook dinner or find money for new shoes. No alarm clocks. No pain or tears. Nobody I could let down. No one to impress. Just childlike wonder in the presence of God’s love. No worries or hurting or loneliness ever again.” I smiled with one side of my mouth, expecting him to mock me.

The demon gave his wicked laugh again, this time with full timber. My eyes went wide, and a new kind of fear I couldn’t name welled up inside.

He finally hacked his last guffaw, and said, “You were right all along, Jenny.”

I held my breath.

“You deserve exactly what you always wanted.”

“Heaven?” I whispered, expecting him to take it back as a cruel trick.

“Ironically, you described the exact place you will be going. Before you get too excited, don’t even think about hugging me. This is not a mercy, as I have none. Maybe for a long time you won’t care about what I’m saying next, but it’s very important. So listen and remember this for later. You are being sent there to learn something.”

He stopped talking. I kept looking at him as if the climax or punch line was still coming. He shrugged and said, “That’s it. You need to learn something.”

“Okay,” I said. The tears were gone. I repeated the sentence quietly to myself a few times, but the light of hope clearly overpowered the shadows of warning in his sage advice.

“Whatever.” He laughed again and tapped several times on his tablet. “Have a great damned time.” He tapped once more and disappeared.

The sensation of falling brought no fear. Wind pulled my hair and clothes in strange directions as I tumbled through blue space. I knew I should be afraid, but my stomach didn’t lurch as it would in freefall. Gravity tugged at me gently. Logic told me I should be screaming as my body accelerated toward the Earth. Rather, I slowed as I descended.

I gripped my purse instinctively with both hands. When my fingers protested, I lifted it to find it had changed into a small harp, flecked with gold and light as a feather. I ran one finger across it experimentally, setting loose a resonance that vibrated through to my very core.

I gasped when I saw the finger responsible for the melodious scale. A short, pudgy digit. At first, I couldn’t believe it went with me, so I wiggled it again. Sure enough, I had adorable childlike hands. I clapped them together

Realizing I’d dropped the instrument, I flailed around. My small wrist touched it, sending the triangle spinning. I clutched it and pulled it to my chest. I’d only just gotten here and already I almost lost my harp.

Feeling safe again, I let my eyes follow down my arms to my body. Soft, glowing skin met a diaphanous sash. My belly button, thankfully still an innie, showed between the thin pink scarf that wrapped around my chest and hips. Fortunately, it covered my bottom. I had a much bigger bottom than I expected. I wasn’t sure if I should worry about feeling fat.

I lifted the harp and twisted experimentally, expecting the loose scrap of cloth to fly away in the breeze. It stayed fast. The funny thing even moved with me, writhing like a snake to keep my body conveniently modest. I lifted one hand and touched my head. I had thin hair, still brown, in perfect coils and curls.

Looking through the hair of one lock, I saw a giant cloud beyond. Just by wanting to see it, I rotated. It looked like a giant cotton ball, pulled at the ends, and floating through the sky. As I sat up, I noticed I’d stopped falling. In fact, I was gently bobbing up and down like a helium balloon. I noticed my breathing affected if I rose or fell, like swimming.

Then I saw the Earth below.

Stretching out in every direction, mountains and forests smeared the distant ground like paint on a textured canvas. I took a deep breath and held it, floating up several feet. Simply by wanting it, my body rotated until I looked down on all of creation. I saw large birds flapping beneath. Great waterfalls became rivers and lakes. I exhaled and dropped a little closer.

I felt a tear as I accepted the truth of my situation. Everything I’d hoped for over the difficult and taxing decades of my life came true today. I was an angel in heaven. I had never imagined it would be just like those adorable children in the church mural, but I couldn’t be happier.

With that thought, I reached behind my head, trembling until my small fingers touched feathers. Tears flowed freely now. I said a prayer of thanks, pouring my whole soul into an expression of gratitude. I was even grateful for the horrid demon who’d scared me when I first died.

Completely absorbed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice when something moving fast hit me from behind. My head and back both registered damage, but I didn’t feel any pain. I began to fall toward the ground. I glanced up to see another angel racing on, wings flapping. The blue sash around his waist and bum made me think of a boy, but he was going so fast he disappeared in the cloud before I could call out or even form words.

I sunk for a while, like a melon pushed under still water, but I slowed to a stop about a hundred feet lower and then began to gently rise. I bobbed up and down, settling again at the level I’d been before.

So there are other angels . It was a silly thought. Of course there were other angels. I had no idea why the one who’d run into me was in such a hurry. It seemed absurd that two little bodies sharing the vast sky would crash accidentally. Yet I couldn’t imagine why he might have done it on purpose.

I floated in a circle, scanning the sky for more. Finding none, I decided to try out my own wings. I flexed my back muscles, producing some slight motion. I tumbled around in the air a bit, trying to grab them with my hands. When I looked at a cloud and just wanted to go in its direction, they began flapping on their own. I smiled. They were automatic, like breathing.

I plunged into the cloud, which felt like rain going sideways. I knew it was cold, but my body didn’t react to the temperature. When I stopped flying, I felt myself float up to the top of the cloud until I gently rested above it. The sensation of coming out from the damp into the light was nice. I felt the sun rapidly dry my skin. Also, I noticed my eyes weren’t bothered by the sun at all. I could stare at it directly without any tears or damage. There was a lot I’d never known when I was alive. Those eyes couldn’t take the bright light enough to notice the dark spots and various shades across the sun’s surface. It reminded me a little bit of the lava I’d seen through the window.

As I lay on the cloud, basking in bright glory, I lifted my harp and began touching the strings. I still loved my own cute little hands and feet, but I felt more enamored by the depth of vibration this tiny little instrument produced. One note from any one string filled my whole soul. I felt like a hollow drum, magnifying the sound. I leaned back, letting the harp rest on my round belly. I lifted it and tried again. It was still nice, but didn’t course through my very being. I set the base back on my tummy and strummed several strings at once. Bliss oscillated through my entire self.

I took a deep breath, lifting a bit higher on the cloud, and held it until the last of the wave disappeared. My back against the cool cloud and face in the sun’s heat, accompanied by the music, left me content. Decades of hard life melted away.

Time had no meaning in this place. I watched the sun set, as the cloud I lounged on turned orange and pink. I felt the wet mist bubbling beneath me, like a gentle massage, as the full moon rose into a dark sky filled with more stars than I’d ever seen before. It felt like being closer to them made more of them visible, but it might have been my new eyes. I basked in the release. I didn’t have anybody to take care of. I didn’t have anything to get done. No taxes, no deadlines, no alarm clock.

I stayed there until the sun rose. It crossed the sky and set again. My muscles never grew sore from disuse. I never got hungry or tired. When the moon rose, a sliver on the right side blurred. The cloud beneath me dissolved. I rolled over to see a few lights on the ground far away, but nothing like the cityscapes when I’d been alive. I found another cloud and watched the stars spin. I didn’t care about names or constellations. I just watched them go around. I decided to stay there for the whole moon cycle, occasionally finding a new cloud to rest on. When the urge to do something struck me, I plucked a few strings on my harp until the vibrations lulled me back into satisfying oblivion.

I contemplated writing a poem for the new moon one night, when a trio of angels flew past me. I might have missed them except one held a torch and another was banging on a miniature drum. I fluttered my wings and sat up.

The leader called, “Halt!” His masculine voice didn’t match the child-like face. A green loincloth fluttered as he tipped the fiery stick toward me. “Who are you?”

I smiled, unsure of the protocol here. I expected angels would be happy and nice all the time, but he looked suspicious and impatient.

I shrugged. “I’m Jennifer.”

The drummer, floating slightly to the side, kept pounding on the little cylinder until a female cherub with an orange dress running from shoulder to knee grabbed his stick and held it until he reluctantly agreed to stop.

“Whose side are you on, Jennifer?” The fire-wielder demanded.

I bit my lower lip. There were sides here? “I don’t know. I’m new in heaven. I haven’t talked to anybody before.”

“Let’s go,” the girl said. “She’s still green.”

“Green?” I asked. I looked at my pink scroll and the leader’s green loincloth. I didn’t see how I could be the one described as green.

“We’re gathering angels to defend the cathedral.” He tipped his torch back over his shoulder like a baseball player with a bat and tipped his chin toward me. “You want our protection, or do you want to take your chances out here alone?”

“Protection? From who?”

“The usurpers,” the girl said. She had a how stupid can you be? look that I didn’t much care for.

“But how can they hurt me?” I’d tried. My angel body seemed impervious to breaking, bruising, or pain.

Bam! The drum sounded as the last one said, “They can hurt you in ways you don’t imagine.”

“Why would they want to?” I didn’t care if they thought I was stupid. None of this made any sense. This isn’t how angels acted. I wouldn’t let them manipulate me out of the freedom I’d so newly acquired.

“Forget it.” He turned and continued flying the direction he’d been going, shoving the torch forward like a beacon. The others followed.

The conversation disrupted my plan to see a full cycle of the moon. Thoughts of angels called usurpers and a cathedral made me restless. I didn’t have any fear, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those words. I wanted to see the cathedral. Was it up in the clouds with us? Eventually, I decided I could watch the moon cycle anytime.

I turned to head in the direction I’d seen the others flying, but realized I had no idea where I was or which direction they’d gone. I looked at the ground for clues. The landmarks had changed beneath me. I was over an ocean now with islands in the distance, but nothing could have interested me less. After a lifetime of wanting to escape the Earth, why would I care what was down there now?

The wind shifted. I blew with it, following the clouds, which seemed to stay in big patterns. The surface continued to rotate slowly in the same direction, but the air current now pulled me diagonally toward one of the smaller, distant islands. If we couldn’t use the ground to find our way, how did the others even know where they were going?

I tried to fly up, getting a few hundred feet before my wings could not fight the pull. I tipped over and dived down. I managed to race hundreds of feet toward the ground before the momentum died and I floated back up, despite my best flapping. I saw a black plume rising from the approaching shore. A tall mountain belched fire and smoke that reached clear up to my air. This time I bobbled back to rest facing down. I didn’t feel any different, no matter which way I faced.

I felt worry creeping into my mind. Why had I let those three get to me? I was supposed to be free of worries. What difference did it make to me if some angels called themselves usurpers? I wanted to see the cathedral, but it wasn’t like I didn’t have all the time in the world to find it whenever I happened across it. At the moment, I decided I didn’t much care to be surrounded by volcanic ash. It wouldn’t hurt, but I didn’t know if it would affect my lungs.

I turned and began to fly. Even though my wings could outpace the wind, I chose an angled course. I wanted a closer look at this force of nature.

“There!” I heard somebody yell. I turned to see who, but only saw clouds.

“Get in position,” a woman’s voice called from above and behind me.

Below me, a group of angels surrounded something heavy, flapping their wings frantically to keep it aloft. As I pondered how they could fly so low, another angel hit me from behind. I dropped.

Stunned by the impact, I turned to see what hit me, but I couldn’t see anything as I fell. I crashed into something hard and sharp. For an instant, the faces of angels with wicked sneers peered at me from over the edges of the box I had fallen in. Then, the lid snapped on and the whole thing dropped.

“Ha ha!” yelled one as I plummeted further down. “I didn’t think that would really work.”

“How long will she…” The voice drifted off.

Whistling air grew louder as the container accelerated. I pushed and punched at the lid and walls with my hands and my feet. There wasn’t much room, but I tried pounding on it with the harp. I felt anger and sadness welling up. I could not accept what had happened. I had no fear, but anxiety over what might happen when the box landed clouded my thoughts and feelings.

Boom!

I felt the wind rush from my lungs. The box hit the ground, bounced once, and came to rest at an angle. I breathed rapidly, listening for anything unexpected. My heart raced for a full minute, the only thing I could hear besides a faint rumbling.

Light came in from above my head. I checked the box to see if the fall had cracked the seam of my cage, but I saw nothing. The light moved behind when I turned, so I glanced back the other way. I tipped my head, then laughed a little as I pushed back and hit it against the wooden side wall. My halo. The light came from a halo above my head. Outside, it wasn’t bright enough to notice. Despite the cramped quarters, I felt a bit of gratitude for it now. I scraped one arm around so I could reach above my head. Nothing tangible.

I twisted, kicking against the walls and cracks. I never managed to split the wood. I felt no slivers or splinters. Either the box was very strong, or I was very weak. I screamed at the top of my lungs for help, begging for anyone to let me out. When I exhausted my rage, I started to cry.

These were angels. They were supposed to be good. Why would they do something like this to me? How could they even think of anything so horrible? Why would they want to?

Wasn’t this heaven? Suddenly, my stomach lurched and I pounded my head back against the hard surface.

I had a long time in that box to think about every word the demon said. Judging from the moon phases, it had only been a couple of weeks since our interview. He never said I was going to Hell. He even said Hell wasn’t a Christian invention. He also didn’t say I was going to heaven. I said that. All he said was that infinity wasn’t a Christian invention and that I needed to learn something. What did that even mean?

I broke into random fits and attacked the prison. I cried. I prayed. I slept. I played the harp, and it brought me some joy despite the claustrophobia.

I spent a lot of time thinking, discovering I could remember every detail of my life from my forgotten childhood to the bitter, cancerous end. I played the whole thing back twice in real time, watching every dream as I slept and feeling every tear as it etched the wrinkles on my face and turned my heart to stone.

Sure, I had regrets. Anybody would. However, I couldn’t see any way to a different end. No alternate path presented itself to my mind. I would do again the things I’d done. I wouldn’t undo marrying my awful husband, because I couldn’t bear a life without my daughter. And I would help raise my granddaughter whether I knew her bad choices or not. The hardness and pain of my life filled me once more. The beautiful reprieve had been only a blip of happiness between two awful existences.

During the immeasurable time in the box, I became a harp virtuoso. I could play every piece of music I’d ever heard in my life and compose music to express every possible feeling. Singing and kicking the box like a drum, I added depth to the songs. Sometimes the nearby volcano would rumble or erupt, and I used those sounds to make my music even better.

I suspected Earth covered the box now, so it would never be found or opened. How could it? The angels couldn’t fly down here. When they flew above me, they couldn’t see this small object from so high up, if it still sat on the surface. There was no reason for them to look for me, not ever.

I gave up on God. I’d prayed so long and hard and got no help of any kind. There were only a few possibilities. One, He might not know I was here or be able to hear my prayer. If so, then He wasn’t all-knowing and therefore not God. Two, He knew but could not save me. In that case, He wasn’t all powerful. Three, He didn’t care enough to save me. Again, that would mean he wasn’t all-loving, and therefore not God. Four, there is no God. However, if there wasn’t a God, why was my soul still alive after my body died? The only way I could continue after death would be if God existed.

So there was only one conclusion—I was in Hell. Xandern never said this was Hell, but did that make it any less so?

Alone in a confined space, I think I figured out the same thing I would have come to learn up in the clouds. A wide open sky or a small room, it made no difference. This was Hell.

The monster had said I was here to learn something. He also said the word infinity wasn’t around when Christ walked the Earth. Now my only hope centered on figuring out whatever it was from inside this dark cell.

I remembered every book I’d ever read. I analyzed them ad nauseum , comparing every line from every one to everything else. How could I learn something now that I’d never heard before?

Eventually, I stopped thinking about it and decided to play more music. I thought of every possible combination of sounds the small instrument could make braided together with all the song themes I’d ever heard. It would probably take a year or so to play that one song, which was fine by me.

Two weeks into my composition, the box moved.

I stopped playing the moment the box shifted. A scraping noise, then a lurch. My world turned and moved again. Then the whole thing shook.

“Hello?” I couldn’t help but hope, my heart racing.

“It stopped.”

“I told you not to move it. Now it’s broken.”

I kicked the side. “Help me! Please! Let me out!”

“It’s a trick, don’t open it. It’s probably cursed.” The box shook again.

“No trick, I promise! I’m stuck in here and I can’t get out. Please help me!”

“What if it will give us gifts?” the closer voice said.

“I will. I’ll give you my harp!”

“It could be a lie. Or a test. Let’s put it back and run away.”

“No!” I couldn’t bear to be alone again. I’d rather die, or whatever happens after death to make the tedium go away. I’d tried every way I could think of. “I promise, I am not tricking you. I’ll give you anything you want if you let me out.”

“A magic sword?”

I almost said I would, but my heart wouldn’t let me. If he found I couldn’t give him a sword, he’d just put me back in the prison. “I can’t give you that, I don’t have one.”

“You said anything.”

“I know, but I meant anything I have to give.” I looked at my harp. Except for the pink scarf, which I knew couldn’t be removed from my body, I had nothing else to give.

“Like what?”

I took a deep breath. “All I have is a harp.”

The two voices conferred. “We can’t use a harp.”

“I could play it for you.”

“Then play.”

I began a new tune, something lively. I kicked time on the sidewall. I sang words I’d composed ages ago. It would be a great song to dance to if I had room.

“No reason to let it out,” the lower voice said. “It can play just fine like that.”

I stopped. “I can play better if you open the box. If you don’t help me, I’ll never play again.”

“Then we’ll just put you back where you were.”

I imagined a middle-aged man furrowing his brow as he said it. I had nothing to bargain with. “No, I’ll play,” I said. I started a slower, sad song.

“That’ll do.”

The box bounced as one or both of them carried me across uneven ground.

The days were all the same in my new situation. Every morning a group of boisterous men woke from a drunken stupor. They swore oaths to perform great acts of bravery in war as they drank tankards of ale. Then they all put on armor, picked up weapons, and left. That night the same crowd returned, boasting of their deeds, to eat and drink themselves into a stupor. They all seemed to think they were in heaven, too. Only they called it Valhalla.

There were women in the mix. A few, called Valkyries, joined the men in battle. Others busied themselves with cooking and serving drinks. They had other less appealing jobs, too. Despite everything, I had to admit I was happier in the box than being one of those barmaids.

My part was to play music in the morning and at night. I could tell by the way the sounds came from below and to one side that they’d placed me on a shelf somewhere in the room.

It didn’t really matter what kind of music I played. Sometimes I just plucked random notes and scales. Other times I performed perfect operettas. They told a lot of stories, during which I served as backup to increase the drama. Once a week or so I tried talking. Nobody would answer at first. If I persisted, somebody would shake the box or yell profanities at me until I started playing again.

For a while, I listened to all their stories and conversations, trying to find an overarching plot or bigger purpose in it. None emerged. The tales were only about their day’s exploits—how many men one had killed by bashing them with a shield, or how a single spear had gone through two heads. No story, no matter how amazing, lasted more than a few days.

I learned something. I figured out they were in Hell, just like me. Only their idea of heaven was this daily cycle of slaughtering and feasting. So the volcano I’d seen before being imprisoned was probably Iceland. I didn’t have enough information to be sure, but I assumed the place I’d come included many heaven-like-Hells. Probably in Asia they had some kind of Nirvana. I didn’t really know that much about the other religions of the world, but I assumed there were harems waiting for some of the Muslims in the Middle East somewhere. There were probably thousands of little groups all over this planet living out the rewards they believed in all through their lives.

I hadn’t seen them all, but I knew they were there. So I closed my eyes and prayed, “There it is. I learned it. I learned the lesson you sent me here for.”

Nothing happened.

I shook my head and held back tears.

The men were away killing in the name of faith when I couldn’t take it anymore. I began bashing my head and shoulders from side to side. I found I could move the container just a little. I kept at it for hours, focusing on one side, hammering my head into the wall as I kicked it over and over again.

The container lurched and tipped. I felt it crash into the ground. I added my own weight to the landing, trying to pop one of the seams or crack a sideboard. The noise inside was terrific. Then it rolled and stopped. I kicked at the corner. I could feel a crack in the wood, but light wasn’t coming through. I tried again, in case I was on another shelf. Exhausted to no avail, I gave up when the men returned. They put me back on the shelf, this time securing the box so I couldn’t move it again.

I wept as I played the saddest song I could muster.

Then I heard the men say how badly they’d done in the battle today. Something different. In my state, I clung to anything different. I listened as they described losing both strategically and physically.

I stopped the music and called out, “I could have saved you!”

The room went silent.

“If you took me with you, you would have won. I’m good luck!”

Were Vikings superstitious? I prayed they would be, even though I didn’t think the prayers of the damned did much good.

“Keep silent and play music,” one barked.

“No, let’s consider these words. Maybe our bad luck has come because we were sent this token and we did not bring it with us. Music to revel by is nice, but music to fight by is better. We have been fools to so ignore Odin’s gift.”

“Build a pedestal.”

There was a lot of commotion as they argued about how to fasten my box to a pole. One wanted to suspend it by chains, another to nail into the wood directly. They settled for metal bands wrapped around the box to fasten it to a tall shaft.

I didn’t want to go with them to war, but I played music while they jostled me around. Anything different was good.

The next morning, they lifted my box and marched out the door. The pole was taller than the door, apparently, because they had to tip me on my side to get it out of the room. Once they were outside, I started a marching tune. The constantly shaking box made it hard to play, but easy to follow their rhythm.

When they reached the battle, my prison became a protection. The chaos around me overwhelmed my emotions. As the box jostled and bumped, I played the best war songs I could think of. I did several heavy metal songs, which came out like elevator music on my little harp. The fighters struggled as I plinked out Welcome to the Jungle .

My body didn’t bruise or even hurt from being slammed side to side. My head began to ache from trying to make any sense out of the sounds I heard while keeping up the various war anthems. I caught a few snippets here and there.

“That thing’s not helping at all.”

“We’re down one man for carrying it.”

“I can help,” cried the one holding my pole.

Then my world tipped and I began to zip through the air in a wide arc.

When the box impacted, somebody in front of me moaned and I lost control of the harp. I grabbed it more tightly, stopping any pretense of music as I became the head of a gigantic hammer.

I slid against the top as the square swung again and again, smashing into enemies. I wanted to scream or cry, but focused on bracing myself to lessen the impact when the mace slammed another foe.

A crack of light showed through the wood near my feet. I gritted my teeth and kicked it. The box swung upward again. I kicked and kicked until the wooden wall split open. The men looked up as splinters rained down on them from above. I squeezed past the sharp shards, popping out the other side before he could bring the pole down again.

Large men in armor stained with blood were hitting each other with swords and axes. To one side I saw a hobo sitting against a big rock. He seemed out of place in his stained trenchcoat, fingerless gloves, and messy hair. I didn’t stick around to ask questions.

The air lifted me, but I still beat my wings for all I was worth, sucking in huge gulps of fresh air and squinting as I raced for the sky.

“What was that?”

“You fool! You broke our music box!”

I never looked back. As the ground fell away, I saw dozens of angels flying in a chaotic swarm above me. I reversed, turning on my back and flying for all I was worth to stay beneath the din. I didn’t want anything to do with those mean cherubs. I certainly wasn’t interested in going from the frying pan to the fire.

My wings weren’t strong enough to keep me down against the nature of my balloonish body. I only slowed the ascent. Determined never to be caught off guard again, I flew sideways, avoiding as much as possible the center of the conflict.

I found a nice cloud and let myself rise up into it, taking advantage of the cover. I flew downward to stay low in the wet billows instead of letting the vapor lift me to the top. When I saw a thin edge, I moved away from it. I kept my harp up like a shield, watching above and below as the breeze carried the cloud.

I could hear sounds on every side. I didn’t know if the cloud went toward or away from the conflict. The sides thinned, spreading the concealing water thinner until I could see every direction. I flew up to get a view.

I’d drifted away from the center of action, but it only took a few seconds for another angel to find me.

“Which side are you on?” She had a purple sash that wrapped around her body three times. In one hand, she carried a flute.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Which side are you?”

“You don’t know?” She fluttered closer. I didn’t see malice in her eyes, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Stay back!” I lifted the harp as if to brain her with it.

She threw up both hands. “Hold on. It’s just a debate. Nobody’s fighting here.”

“What’s the debate?”

“They’re trying to decide if we should organize and take the cathedral by force or continue petitioning for everybody to use it.”

“What do you think?”

She put her hand on one big hip, trying to look important. “They’ve been rejecting our petitions for too long. They aren’t going to change their minds now. I think we should take it by force.”

“What’s so important about the cathedral?” I asked. “Is God in there?”

She scrunched up her nose. “God? No. It’s just the only building we have and it isn’t fair that the angels controlling it won’t let us have access.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Have you ever heard of or seen God? Have any of the angels?”

“How long have you been here?” She pointed at me with the flute in a way I didn’t much like.

“So very long. Too long.”

“How is that possible? Every angel knows about the cathedral.”

“I’ve been… tied up.” I gave a flat smile and shrugged.

“Well if you’re not with us, you may never see what’s inside.”

“Okay, I’m with you.”

She flew over and put one arm around me. It felt nice. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since anybody touched me. It felt as good as the first time I struck a note on my harp. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others. Hey, what’s your name?”

“Jennifer.”

“Hi, Jennifer. I’m Kim.”

I took her hand and followed as she flew toward the tangled mess of winged children.

Angels valued nothing so much as loyalty. Kim explained the factions changed constantly with everybody siding with one group or another, but those groups expected fealty as if they were a nation or family. The debates were endless, sometimes escalating into full-scale battles.

I watched two boy-like men, arguing about whether we should attack the cathedral by day or at night. They started shouting. Then it came to blows.

They couldn’t hurt each other, so they just punched and kicked and grappled, flying all over the place and throwing each other into other angels. A good throw could scatter a whole mob of angels like billiard balls. Nobody ever got hurt, it seemed. I wouldn’t let my guard down. I knew all too well that there were more ways than pain to hurt an angel.

When the two finally became exhausted or just tired of the fight, they resumed their debate. When it came to a vote, more people wanted to go at night. I shook my head, trying not to show my disgust. Couldn’t they just have voted first ?

The group decided to wait for tomorrow to pick a day for the attack. Kim kissed the boy who finally won the argument as he floated back toward us. She kept her arms around him, whispering in his ear.

Angels had relationships, too? How could they? From what I could tell, we didn’t even have the right equipment.

I found myself in a strange place. I’d been in this body for ages and ages, longer than I’d been alive as a mortal, but I knew absolutely nothing about the other angels. I didn’t imagine myself falling romantically in love with anybody who looked like a four-year-old, but I wasn’t swearing it off, either.

As the group began to spread out, they didn’t go very far. A dozen of them collected and began playing music together. They fell easily into a complex and beautiful song. All manner of tiny instruments blended perfectly. Then all around me, angels began to sing. I didn’t know the song or the words. It seemed to be mostly oo-oo and ah-ah sounds, but the voices naturally split into parts creating stimulating chords.

I wanted to join with them, so I sang the parts I could pick up. Was it wrong to play my harp now, or did one need an invitation to these things?

Night filled our world. The other angels all went dormant. Some slept, others just stayed awake as they looked at the stars. I’d missed the stars, so I stayed awake. Besides, I needed to keep my senses alert for danger. I watched Kim and her man fly off together. My curiosity told me to follow them and see what they did, but I knew better.

Most of the next day was spent choosing which night to attack the cathedral. Suggestions ranged from next week to next year. I rolled my eyes and finally called out, “Why not tonight?”

Kim nodded approvingly. The debate went on and on until I could have cried from boredom. Only once did an arguing angel get thrown into the group of people I hovered with. I moved clear, but the rest of them tumbled like bowling pins. I laughed at that one. Luckily, none of them could see or hear me.

Nobody could think of anything else to get ready, so they settled on attacking that night.

“Why don’t you join the musicians?” I asked Kim, pointing to her flute. The sun was setting and the silver instrument looked pink like the clouds around us.

“Sometimes I do. I just feel like concentrating on tonight. You could join them if you want.”

“I don’t know the song.”

“None of them do. They just make it up as they go along. Even novices are allowed.” She had no idea how much time I’d spent playing my harp.

“So how does this attack thing work?” I asked. I had decided to help if I could, but if it was horrible I would just leave.

“There’s not much to it. They will be trying to stop us from getting in. We’ll fly at them and try to break through their defenses. Once they’re scattered, we’ll block the door to keep them from getting in.”

It sounded like a children’s game to me, but her face said it was deadly serious. I asked, “Nobody can get really hurt, right?”

“Right.” Her eyes said there was more to it.

When the half moon was high in the sky, the angels of my new group assembled. They organized into a phalanx with a few of the larger boy-men at the front of the triangle. Instead of instruments, many of them had swords or spears. I thought it probably didn’t matter if they were bigger, since we all seemed to float at the same level regardless. They shouted some words meant to inspire us, and we all started flying in the same direction.

I still didn’t know how they kept track of directions. With the Earth rotating one way and the wind blowing another, it seemed like there were no good reference points.

We flew for hours. I knew it wouldn’t make me tired, but I thought a more reasonable pace might help them keep the triangle formation better.

When we arrived, I saw a tall building floating on a cloud. The cloud seemed more solid than other clouds somehow. The building looked like a Gothic church with spires and vaulted stained-glass windows. The substance looked like stone, but I knew it couldn’t float up here with us if it was. Like my harp, it must be some other material than what it appeared to be. Large braziers with tall fires sat around the cathedral, casting stark shadows from the architectural protrusions.

As we approached, several angels began to panic. I couldn’t hear them for the collective buzz of wings around me, but I could see them shouting. A group rapidly assembled. By locking their feet under the armpits below and holding each other’s arms, they created a net with their cherub bodies. Five high and two dozen wide, they became a fence.

The angels at the front of our wedge screamed at the top of their lungs. The defenders called back. I couldn’t hear any of the words from my place near the middle. I just gripped my harp and braced for impact.

When we hit them, the angels in the front attacked. They didn’t use their weapons to hit their opponents in the head or body. Instead, they prodded and chopped at the hands and feet where the barrier held together.

I couldn’t help but sing to myself, “Red rover, red rover, send Jacob right over.”

The angels I was with at the back didn’t slow or spread out. We all kept flying forward, pushing the ones in front of us to give them even more momentum. Our group smashed together into a huge ball of chaos with baby butts and elbows poking out everywhere.

I felt the net slow and resist us. Then it tore apart.

Angels from both teams flew off in every direction like we were part of one big, living firework. The elasticity of the bodies bounced back, undoing the collapse we made and propelling little round people on the edges at high speed. More and more of them broke away, zipping off like popcorn as soon as there was space.

By sheer luck, I happened to be near the middle, so when the mess of bodies unraveled, I ended up floating backward. I tumbled a few times before my wings righted me. I didn’t know what else to do, so I headed back toward the door of the cathedral at full speed. Six other angels had the same idea.

I couldn’t see any defenders when I started toward it, but a few reached their hands across to block us again. This time they had no chance. When we arrived at full power, we broke through them, sending the last of them spinning away.

I felt a rush of adrenaline as I wedged through the tall door with my teammates. The fire-lit entryway had interesting murals painted on the walls that I couldn’t possibly stop to examine. I flew into the main hall, where a tall space opened up. Candles lit dozens of murals, all featuring cute little angels like us. There were several rooms connected to this main hall. Despite the size of the place, I could see how such a limited piece of real estate would cause contention. There was no way all the angels could fit in here at the same time; not even a fraction of them.

“We need to go back!” one boy shouted at me.

I was enjoying myself already. I didn’t want to be distracted. “Why?”

“We have to keep them out now, or they’ll just come take it back.”

I nodded as I turned to follow him back out.

This time my team formed a wall. Kim and her boyfriend were right in the middle. I flew up, laced my arm through my harp so it hung at my elbow, and grabbed the arm of the boy who had brought me back out. I latched my feet under the armpits below me, thinking I was glad to be on the top, as that looked uncomfortable for the one beneath.

As we waited, I looked at the boy next to me. He had a gray smock, almost like medical scrubs.

“My name’s Jennifer,” I said.

He smiled. “I’m Juan.”

We turned to face our incoming enemies.

The other team formed up and rammed us. They impacted Kim at full power, but she didn’t break. Juan gritted his teeth and held my arm so tight I thought it would collapse into a strand of rope. They tried again and again to break us, but we never came apart.

Many of our group shouted insults at them when they bounced away. I noticed Juan didn’t. I thought that showed good character.

By sunrise, the battle was over.

Kim hugged everybody and we all congratulated each other.

When she started making out with her boyfriend, I asked Juan, “So what’s in all those rooms?”

He smiled and waved for me to follow him. As we flew through the door he said, “The biggest room is full of scrolls. There’s a pool of water in one. We think it’s like a baptistery, but nobody is really sure how to use it, since we kind of float. There aren’t any priests around anyway.”

I found that I liked him. I could see beyond his child-like face and detect a kind soul. I liked how softly he held my hand. I knew he had a strong grip, but he didn’t use it on me now. The rising sun illuminated the colorful windows, sending a rainbow through the big hall. Just like the murals, the windows were all pictures of cute little cherubs. I wanted to smash them with a rock, but I kept that urge to myself.

“There’s a room over here with tiered seating. It works well for choirs and music. The last room is just storage shelves and cupboards. We think it was probably full of supplies at one time, but nobody puts their stuff on them now because they don’t know who will be in charge of this place from day to day.”

The last room we looked in was the biggest. Rolled up scraps of paper lined all the walls and spilled out onto several tables. Juan had a strap on his little lute, so he put it over his shoulder and picked up one of the scrolls.

“Some of them are like the Bible, but only the Old Testament, and not exactly the same. A surprising number of them talk about somebody named ‘Zoroaster.’ There are some that make no sense at all.”

I decided to trust Juan. “The demon told me I was here to learn something.”

“They all told us all that,” Juan said. He had a flat expression, showing no anger as he said it.

“You’ve read all of these?”

“Many times.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. A few of the others count time by watching the sun and moon and seasons, but it doesn’t seem to have any meaning. I stopped caring after a few hundred years.”

My mind reeled. I felt a tear break free. Juan put his arms out and I leaned into him. He just held me.

“You’re different than the others,” he said.

“How?” I wiped my cheek and stared into his deep brown eyes. I did not see a child now. His eyes were the eyes of a man.

“You don’t accept things,” he said. “I like that. It makes me want to try again.”

“Try?”

“Try and learn whatever it is we’re all supposed to learn. Try and get out of here. It’s been a long time since I gave up on trying.”

“There’s a way out?”

“It seems to say so in these scrolls. Of course, there’s a lot of debate about if these scrolls are even true. We don’t know who wrote them or when. But most people agree they seem to say that this Hell is a temporary condition and if we change or figure something out we can leave and go to a paradise beyond our imagining.”

“I thought this place would be paradise.” I pulled back and picked up one of the scrolls. It talked about Noah. I chose one off the shelf at random. It had math on it and talked about angels being buoyantly neutral. I set it down. “Have you ever known anybody who figured it out and left?”

“Me, personally, no. There are rumors, naturally. I spent decades chasing them down. The best I can tell, nobody has ever seen anybody leave. It’s hard to say for sure, though, because most of the angels change alliances so often. Friends come and go. People become despondent and spend decades out on their own. There’s one guy I’ve been looking for a long time. If he figured it out, he did it on his own and nobody saw him leave.”

Despite his faith, I felt the fight going out of me. How could I succeed where so many had failed? “Do you think people have to be on their own to find the answer?”

“I doubt it. Maybe. Who knows?”

I didn’t care right then. I couldn’t handle being on my own after everything that happened. I needed to be with people. I wanted to be with Juan. “Do you think I should read all of these?”

He patted my shoulder. “Maybe you’ll see what we all missed.”