We sat on the long new white sofa.
In heaven with an older fool. In his living room with that ultra high ceiling. Other couples wandering about, counting their blessings.
Outside through the window we could see the field where other couples were playing some eternal game of hide and seek.
Ships came and went every few centuries usually offloading more and more.
In the state we were in we seemed no better than farm animals.
Simple satisfactions, snacks and flattery replayed.
Was this the sandpaper to finish the job
Was this the world chiseling out our impurities.
Or shaping us into the mess the modern world had left us in, before we left their time.
The fool came out and served us tall bread with sugary coating.
He had it all, hundreds of loyal friends an expanding family and a certainty I wanted to get to the bottom of to verify truth.
I took my first bite and decided it was as airy and empty as the front room. Bathed in brightness.
But all that left my lips in word form were the casual pleasantries.
Arousing no descernible suspicions. And so the game of this place continued.
The cakes and promises, the cities outside that continued to rise on the millenia. Beautifying a reality already beautiful.
Yet why were we still animals?
obsessed with communicating niceties, feeding and amusing ourselves with the same tasteless airy atmosphere? Hadn't we ascended? If so, wouldn't we be obsessed with loftier and more meaningful ways of existing?
Is this the land people pay a tithing for?
Is this eternal bliss?
Glasses toast and the room is empty
Souls reunite in freshly painted living rooms, a heavenly white, reflecting the rays from some form of ethereal star.
"How much of the human mission did you complete" The fool pointed at me.
"Oh about half" I muttered, the room went silent. I was supposed to have lied. There was no recourse to expell me so they would just have to pretend I had met the quota, without even knowing what got me through the gates to begin with.
It's not a place of curiosity, it's a place of thick layered sweetness with just enough space between to prevent mold. Will we become the paint? Will we become the glow?
The ships that arrived and left frequently seemed grimey. Would I forfeit this wondrous place just to witness dirt and contrast.
I had spent enough millenia in those blessed fields looking for treasures, or whatever it was our holiness preordained we hunt down. Occupying the decorated infinities and winding down the restless souls until they become like house furniture in these incredible towers.
Would I enjoy these aggressive tones of white light within the this heavenly lounge. The unfulfilled need for glowing peace, eons of cake and compliments.
"How much of the human mission did you complete?" The question is like the dull authoritative brandname on the safe that guards my old dead human heart. It wasn't positioned as an inquisition. But an opportunity to glorify myself among the gathered human journeyed souls partaking in these decade long afternoon tea parties.
The fool took me aside his concerned tone failed to waken caution.
"What is your question? You are restless among us. Do you need some kind of answer to find peace here?" He offered the question openly and warmly.
"What is hell like?" I asked.
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