Clear Conscience

Abalon looked at the visitor. In his centuries as Hell’s Arbiter, he’d never met his counterpart from Heaven. In fact, he’d never met any celestial being any higher ranked than a lowly worker. “Welcome, Arbiter Galadriel.”

If this was a first for Galadriel, she didn’t show it. “Well met, Arbiter Abalon. I’m here to help.”

“Please, have a seat,” the demon said, materializing a large, cushioned chair behind the angel. “It will make room for your wings as needed.” He spread his leathery wings and folded them again in demonstration.

Galadriel didn’t sit down so much as go from standing one instant, to lounging casually in the chair the next. “Listen, Abby, I’ve been at this for millennia. Since before you were created. If you don’t know the story of how you were selected as Arbiter, I can fill you in.”

“I know the story, Galadriel.” He wanted to tell her not to call him ‘Abby,’ but he didn’t want to provoke her. “I can assure you, I have no designs on capturing or injuring you or any other celestial being. We just can’t figure out this human.”

He waved his clawed hand and the human in question appeared in a holographic image atop his desk. Unlike the others in Hell, her cell displayed nothing. There were no scenes from her life to relive, no guilt, no regrets. The door stood open, yet the human sat leaned against the wall, eyes closed, humming a tuneless song.

“What else has she done?” Galadriel asked.

“She showed up in her cell, which means she believed she belonged in Hell, but—” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “There’s never been any sign of guilt or remorse, no failing of empathy, nothing to review.”

“Psychopathy? Did she somehow bring it with her?” Galadriel leaned forward, studying the image of the human.

“No. We scanned her and found her empathy fully engaged.” Abalon sighed. “I even … threatened to torture her to get her to leave.”

“You what?” Galadriel’s gaze grew hard. “If you don’t want to follow in the footsteps of your predecessor, you’d better have a good reason for—”

“She was not tortured,” he cut her off. “It’s obvious she doesn’t belong in Hell. I appeared beside her in the cell, but she felt no fear. I told her that she should leave her cell and go to Heaven where she belongs. When she refused, I told her we would torture her, flay her alive, burn her with fire, and repeat it over and over.”

Abalon shook his head. “She just said, ‘If that’s what it takes to stay here, then do it.’ I felt sick at the idea and haven’t bothered her since.”

Galadriel’s eyes softened. “Abby, may I go talk to her?”

Abalon nodded and pointed at the wall where the open door to her chamber appeared. Once again, Galadriel didn’t so much move as just shift position from one millisecond to the next to be standing inside the chamber.

“Child, why do you stay here?” she asked.

The human woman opened her eyes and looked at the Arbiter of Heaven. “Oh, an angel now. You can go away. You’re not going to convince me to leave.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” The angel seemed to float down to a seated position on the floor. “I’m just curious why you’re staying.”

“Do I have your word that you’re not going to force me to heaven before I’m ready to go?”

“What’s your name?” the angel asked.

“Tandy.”

“Tandy, I’m Galadriel, and you have my word that no-one will try to force you to heaven before or after you decide you’re ready to go. All we can do is tell you the doors are open.”

Tandy took a deep breath and blew it out. “My brother.”

“What about him?”

“He’s a believer.” Tandy shrugged. “I wasn’t. I didn’t believe in all the god, devil, heaven and hell shit. I found no evidence of anything supernatural to support any sort of belief in it.”

“And now?”

Tandy laughed. “I figure there are two possibilities. The first, it’s all real and I’m in a place called Hell.”

Abalon had gotten tired of watching from a distance and moved to stand in the door. Galadriel focused on Tandy but didn’t prod for her to continue.

“The second possibility,” Tandy said, “and the one I most prefer — is that I’m unconscious, maybe close to death, and all of this is my brain firing wildly and making shit up.”

“You prefer solipsism to the possibility that what you’re experiencing is real?” Galadriel asked.

“Honestly? Yeah. I mean, I’d rather be fucked in the brain than have to admit my brother was right about all this.” Tandy laughed, even as tears began welling in her eyes. “I love him, you know. I’d do anything for him. I used to say I’d go through hell for him, and now it looks like I’m making good on that.”

“What does that have to do with you staying in Hell?” Abalon asked. “Your brother is a believer and, I presume, believes he’ll go to Heaven.”

“That’s just it. I was in the hospital, hours left to live. He held my hand and told me that he thought he was going to Hell. He didn’t say what, but he said he did something terrible.”

Galadriel set a hand on Tandy’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but Abalon could sense the comfort flowing from the angel to the woman.

“Anyway, I promised him that if Hell was real, I’d wait for him there and get him free.” Tandy sniffed. “He doesn’t belong in Hell, he’s a good kid, even if he did something stupid.”

Abalon chuckled. “It doesn’t matter what he did, what matters is how he feels about it when he gets here.”

“What? What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means,” Galadriel said, “that everyone comes to Hell first. If there’s nothing eating at their conscience, they can move on to Heaven.”

“Oh boy, my brother’s screwed.” Tandy chuckled. “He is constantly wracked by guilt for things like thinking he didn’t tip enough, or he didn’t let enough people go in front of him in the checkout line at the grocery store.”

Tandy tilted her head. “Wait. Doesn’t that mean all psychopaths go right on to Heaven?”

Galadriel laughed. “Only if they get past their guilt. Every bit of guilt they were unable to feel in life, they will experience when they get here.”

Abalon’s curiosity got the better of him. “Even those that end up leaving for Heaven have some small thing to relive here. Why is there nothing in your chamber?”

“Since I had no belief in an afterlife, I made it a point to address my guilt and deal with it as it happened. I hoped to leave the world no worse than when I came into it, and maybe a little better.”

Galadriel smiled. “She figured it out on her own, without religion or holy books or anything else.”

Tandy looked back and forth between the Arbiters of Heaven and Hell. “Since you know I’m not going anywhere until my brother gets here, could you maybe bring me some books or something?”