Passport to Hell

I was quickly getting bored of this new daily regime. Ever since they had boarded the Ark they had been sailing endlessly on this completely expressionless ocean…sky…whatever it was. Truly, I had expected more from the realm of the dead. The ship itself was nothing special either. Charon had led through the 'woods' in utter silence, other than barking sharp instructions not to stray off. He seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. Though it was hard whether the bear or the man had the eyes. I found this very curious. The man that carried Charon around had never spoken a word, barely even moved.

The ship had been moored at a dock that could have been ripped straight from some backwater alley in Alaska. The ship was, to everybody's surprise, an old-fashioned steamboat. Upon arrival, Charon had turned around and seemed to gloat at the confusion on their faces.

"What, you people were expecting some old-fashioned piece of crap? A galleon, maybe? A Chinese Junk? Some supernatural craziness? And I bet you were expecting me to row you people there myself, ey?"

Charon, in direct defiance to the fact that he had no internal organs save for fluff and dust bunnies, hocked up an admirably large mouthful of saliva and spat disdainfully upon the ground.

"What, you greedy little mites think I'd try that hard? For you? I use this ship because of personal preferences. I don't have to row it, but I also don't have to worry about all these high-tech new-fangled contraptions, like computers or Gee Pee Ess. Whatever that is."

A boardwalk had then conveniently fallen from the sky and landed with a resounding, flat smack in front of the crowd. Charon had forced them all to make orderly columns and march onto the ship. Any stragglers, including the babies, were forced to sing "Waltzing Matilda" 5 times for every second wasted.

"Come on, work that jaw! You don't get paid by the hour, here! You! There! Slacker! Drop down and give me twenty!!!"

The small baby whom had been commanded to give twenty push-ups gazed up, baffled.

When, finally, everybody was onboard, Charon skipped the usual speech about safety and bathrooms that most captains seem so fond of these days, and, so to speak, pressed the big red button. The ship had immediately accelerated to full speed within a matter of seconds, throwing several people off their feet. This proved especially hazardous on the second floor of the ship, where a very fat man who had evidently died of cardiac arrest had fallen on the landing pad that was his large rump and rolled aft, taking out several people with him. Charon looked on, shaking his head with what was either purest disgust, or otherwise barely suppressed laughter.

I had no doubt that had the victims still been alive, this trip pinned underneath Walrus Boy would have snuffed them out quicker than a bullet.

Once on the open ocean, there was almost nothing at all to see. They trawled endlessly through the cloud seas. Charon seemed to choose directions completely randomly. There was, of course, the occasional scare when a skeleton seagull landed upon someone's head, but that quickly got old. Other than the occasional order, wisecrack, grunt, or scornful laugh, Charon remained utterly aloof of his crew. So, for that matter, did I. I had no wish to meet any past victims, or any other deceased I had been familiar with. I spent much of my time leaning over the railing, gazing at the odd letter that had apparently jumped into my hands from nowhere. I had considered drawing a face on it and having a staring contest, but first I couldn't find a pen. And besides, I got the nagging feeling that such a thing would be considered desecration. I had tried to open the envelope, but could find no way. It could not be torn, ripped, crushed, burned, etc. It was during one of these moody, silent conferences with my letter that Charon snuck up behind me.

"What's that you got there?"

I turned sharply, grasping for a weapon. There was only the railing. Charon caught the wild motion and seemed to be laughing on the inside.

"I've heard about you, Mr. Torto. You've made quite a name for yourself down under."

"I do not fear Hell."

"Hell is the least of your worries. Besides, you've probably got the judging system all wrong. A person's path from here is usually determined by an average of two factors. One, how much good you've done to the universe at large."

"Say what?"

"I was just getting to that. Sheesh, you newlydeads really get me down with all your nagging and impatience. It's a good thing you go through 'housebreaking' on Earth, or else you'd probably all be dead. Not all gods and demons have as much patience as me, see."

I gave a derisive snort. I couldn't help myself.

Charon narrowed his eyes, and I could have sworn he had stolen a quick glance at the letter before he continued as if nothing had happened. Curious.

"Every action, every thought, every change has huge repercussions on the universe. You've heard the phrase 'You reap what you sow?' It's not entirely true. Every action caused by every person affects everyone else. Think about it. There's you affecting the universe, and then there's the universe affecting the universe. Obviously, the majority wins when it comes to effects."

I gave my little snort again, but didn't argue. It was true, after all. For now.

"The second factor is how much good you've done to yourself."

"Meaning, how much self-esteem a person has?"

"Pretty much. How much self-esteem, self-respect, all that…but also restraint. Indulge too much, give in to every little urge, and you're not doing yourself a speck of good. You're body is an instrument of the soul and mind. Treat it with respect. Every good worker takes care of their instrument. Craftsmen keep all their tools cleaned and in line. Guns have to be cleaned and inspected regularly, too. Musical instruments have to be polished and tightened. So basically, if you're correctly responsible for yourself, then you deserve it."

"You reap what you sow."

"Yeah, in that case that little phrase holds. Take Common, here. If not for me, he would have rotted away a long time ago."

Charon gestured to the man in the zoot suit, who nodded mechanically. I looked from the bear to the man, and then raised my eyes questioningly. Charon seemed to think for awhile, then obliged an answer.

"He's my little brother."

I raised an eyebrow, but lapsed into a respectful silence. Charon lingered for a moment, apparently pondering something. A few minutes passed before he went on.

"The seal on your letter…you don't know what it is, do you."

It was a statement, not a question, and I nodded cautiously, not to say 'of course, I haven't the slightest idea,' but to say 'What's it to you? Explain yourself.'

"It's an invitation from a chief deity. You don't see those in the hands of newlydeads very often."

That explained his interest in me of all the newlydeads.

Charon tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm under strict orders to take any letter-keepers to their respective locations as deemed by the letter. Of course, you'll have to wait until everyone else is off."

"So you'll just drop schedule afterwards and take me there."

Charon grunted. "I don't have a choice."

"So, who is this Deity who has called upon me?"

Charon glanced at the seal again. If I hadn't known better, I could have sworn that I saw a spark of nervousness, a dark apprehension in his eyes.

"You'll see soon enough. Suffice to say, you'll probably wish you hadn't met him once he's through with you. He's an expert on pain and suffering. He can answer a lot of your questions.

I smiled. "I'm something of an expert on that subject myself."

Charon nodded. "I've heard all about your sadistic exploits. But it'll take more than that to please this guy. Most of them just jump into the ocean and drown themselves."

I frowned. "How can they drown themselves if they're already dead?"

"Heh, that what's so special about this ocean. Surely you noticed how still and boring it is? Most of the beings here give it a wide berth. They avoid it like the plague. This particular path to the afterlife is quicker than most, but a little more dangerous."

Charon scratched his head, as if thinking, before he continued. "There are six majour rivers that connect at different intersections, leading towards the afterlife. All the rivers begin with Styx."

I shook my head. "You call this a river? More like an enormous bloody ocean."

Charon rolled his glassy eyes…I think. "Whatever. So it's a river in concept and use, then, if not in physical Earthman details. Besides, right now we've gone off on a different branch. We're currently sailing on the river Lethe. Each river is imbued with a certain essence, a power, if you will. Lethe is the River of Forgetfulness, of Lies. Any who fall in the river forget themselves, their memories, their identities, everything. And down here, in the underworld, with no bodies and only spirits and souls, identity is everything. You lose that, you're nothing. Less than nothing. Nothing implies a state of being. You're more like…nonexistence. An utter negation of use and energy."

I whistled, impressed. "The implications of that are enormous. The waters of the river would be invaluable for torture purposes."

Charon shook his head vigorously. "Don't mess with the rivers. They are power incarnate. Larger than you'll ever be, so to speak. You mess with them, you mess with the universe. And like I've said. In the universe, majority wins."

Charon turned…or rather, Common lowered him, and then turned and strode away. As they were turning a corner, Charon threw back over his shoulder:

"If you know what's good for you, you'll do as you're told and not stir up too much trouble. Here, where everything is spirit, things are affected more strongly."

I smiled. I understood completely. The body was a shield against power, both from within and without. Without the meaty cage, we were free…all was power, and power caused pain. This was what I had lived for. This was what I had died for.

Charon had said that I shouldn't try to go against the majority. He knew nothing. In my new world, the power would go to the individual. The Truth would be found, the Heart of Darkness harnessed and subjugated. My power would be Absolute, and the pain Absolute Power would cause the universe would be as nothing ever heard of before.

I gazed at my letter, wondering at the odd seal.

Perhaps this mysterious entity could help me in my quest for power.

If he was ally, I would use him, then dispose of him.

If he was enemy…the same.

Here, in the Land of the Dead, the only thing that mattered was Power, anyway.