VERSION 497

Tahani's HobbyHorse

Tahani set, disoriented. A minute ago she had stood, frozen, as a large golden statue was falling on her. Then there was a millisecond of intense pain, and now she was sitting in a fancy waiting room staring at a big wall sign saying EVERYTHING IS GREAT. It struck her as vulgarly American.

A door opened and a handsome English-looking man with grey hair looked out. "Tahani? Please come in."

She rose, trying to conceal her confusion and showing a stiff upper lip. Maybe she was injured and about to see a doctor – though physically she felt perfectly well.

He seated himself at a desk and motioned her to sit opposite him. There was a woman in a blue dress standing beside the desk.

"Let us introduce ourselves," the man said. "I am Michael, and this is Janet." Not a secretary, then. In class-conscious England, people did not introduce their secretaries. "You are Tahani al-Jamil, and you are dead. But don't worry, You're arrived in the Good Place."

Tahani's stiff upper lip was under considerable strain now. "But how-?"

Apparently taking the question literally, Michael started talking about some sort of moral-evaluation system. Evidentiaally Tahani ranked quite high, because of her charities.

"Thank you. But tell me, is Khamila here?"

"Khamila?" the man said, turning to Janet.

"Tahani's sister," Janet said, smiling for some reason. "She's still alive on Earth."

"Good," Tahami said. Then, covering herself, she added, " I mean, I'm glad to know that she is still alive. Er – will she be joining us later?"

"That's impossible to say at the moment," said Michael. "Moral evaluation takes place only at death. Besides, even if she IS high enough to qualify, she might go to a different Good Place, if her tastes and yours are different."

"Oh, yes they are," said Tahani. Particularly their opinions of each other.

"Well, at least let me show you OUR Good Place," said Michael, rising up.

Michael, Janet, and Tahani left the modern-looking office and she suddenly she found herself in a place of quite different architecture, a picture-postcard town. They went through a central green park and up another street. Tahani noticed the oddity that though there were many people wandering around the green, none of them introduced themselves, nor did Michael offer to introduce anybody. Maybe that was a custom, to keep the newcomers from being overwhelmed with culture shock..

They stopped at a pretty cottage, which Michael said was now Tahani's. Going inside, they sat in a living room, where Janet somehow conjured up a tea set.

"Tell me, Tahani," said Michael, "we tried to anticipate your tastes, but we didn't know everything about you. Tell me, is there anything that you've always wished for, but was never able to get?"

"Well, said Tahani shyly, "For years I've wanted to buy a horse, but couldn't afford it."

"For years" covered an awkward part of Tahani's life. Her parents had given Khamila a horse when she reached 15, but never gave one to Tahani. The odd thing was that, while Khamila rarely rode her horse, she refused to share it with Tahani.

"Let's go out back," said Janet.

They did so, and Tahani looked at surprise at a beautiful Arabian horse, standing in the middle of a riding ring, and a well-built stable on the other side. What were they doing here, when she had only expressed her wish a minute ago?

"There's a large pasture out that gate," said Michael, as Tahani patted the animal. "Why don't you take her for a ride?"

"Well, I'm not dressed for it," Tahani demurred, looking down at her outfit. The servant-disguise she had been wearing at the time of her death had vanished and was replaced by a dress in the style she loved.

"There are jodhpurs in the stable," said Janet.

Tahani crossed the riding ring and entered the stable. There were indeed a pair of jodhpurs draped over a branch. And the amazing thing was, THEY FIT. Tahani was accustomed to having clothes adjusted to fit her frame.

Now properly dressed as an equestrienne, Tahani crossed the ring again, put her foot in the stirrup, and pulled herself up onto the Arabian's back. Taking the reins, she guided the horse around so that she could go outside the pasture.

For a few minutes she was in ecstasy. It was a combination of a girl's desire for a pony, and the more complex desire for getting something that put her on a par with her sister.

Then she was struck by something odd about this – aside from the fact that she was dead. She pulled on the reins so that she could stop and think. When she had heard about heaven during her life, it was always about angels and harps in the Christian tradition, or oases and houris in the Muslim version. Not the fun of going horse riding. And why did Michael conjure this up out of a stray remark?

Something was VERY odd about this.