Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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42

XLII

The building is impressive, not just because it appeared from out of nowhere (I think I’m used to that). But for being so clean. It’s made entirely from white marble, and it’s not just impeccable, but also impossible. In such a black and sullied place like hell, seeing something so white and clean seems impossible. Much more impossible than existing happiness and facilities of life in hell.

I begin to climb the long staircase, looking behind and seeing I don’t leave footprints. I’m thankful for that, I can’t imagine what kind of punishment I’d suffer for soiling such a clean place. I keep walking, but now I’m not as careful about where I’m stepping. The doors must be 65 feet high, and they open as soon as I stop in front of them. They’re at least 20 inches thick, I couldn’t open them if I had all eternity to try.

The inside of the building is as beautiful and impeccable as the outside, there’s only one difference: inside, the building looks alive.

I see people (souls, maybe) and demons coexisting. Looks like a government branch, with infinite lines and counters, most of them empty. On Earth, what makes the building look like a government branch the most aren’t the lines, but the fact that they have employees that could occupy the empty counters, but spend their time drinking something (could be coffee) and chatting away. Some things are just the same, whether it’s in hell or Earth.

I look for someone to give me information. I could just take a password, but there are four lines to grab a number, and because I believe they wouldn’t make four lines to take a password for the same place, I don’t waste my time. Fortunately, there are employees with vests that say: How can I help you?

Hi. – I say.

What can I do for you? – The employee asks me, he looks human, but there’s something demonic about him.

The lines for the password are all the same?

No. What do you need?

A map, or something of the kind. – I say, with hope in my eyes.

Are you new here? – The employee asks.

Yes.

We don’t work with maps… – I feel desperate, how could I situate myself without a map? – …we have only GPS’s. Who uses paper nowadays?

I look at the employee and feel like a fool for having suffered before he finished talking.

Yeah, really, who? – I remember my collection of almost 200 books, physical books, and a lot more of that in comic books. I think about telling that to the employee, but I think again and decide to be quiet. Something tells me he wouldn’t like to talk to me, specially about that.

Go to the third line.

Third? Which one is the third?

The one from left to right.

I look and begin to count. Then, I ask:

The one with the blonde in last?

The employee doesn’t even look to the line and nods his head, I understand the conversation is over and I go to the line. It takes a long time, almost as much as the line on the admission counter. I take my password and see that there were more than 500 people before me. This will take a while…

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