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Heaven or Hell

What's the weirdest thing anyone can think of when they wake up?

Will my boss believe me if I tell him I have leprosy? What was I thinking mixing tequila and wine? Damn rooster, does it even know when I'm in the best part of my sleep? I wish I'd done the laundry yesterday when I had time. I'll be damned if I'm ever going to throw a party in a barn again. Gee, three o'clock in the morning, time to escape the barracks!

In her early twenties, and living in Smallville, Lois Lane had had her fair share of strange thoughts. However, she had never imagined waking up one day to learn that her life was over.

Looking at the gigantic vault of ice that covered her entire field of vision, she couldn't help but sob:

"I am dead."

She didn't say it in an ironic way, like when her father caught her sneaking a smoke, or as a prediction of the future, like when she was about to drown in twenty centimeters of water because of a madman with the ability to paralyze his victims. No. She was dead. A corpse. She was no longer breathing. Pum. The end. The world would no longer have the joy of having a Lois Lane alive and kicking.

Of course, she was not an idiot, she knew very well that if she were dead she would not have the ability to know that she was dead.

"I think, therefore I am."

But that apparent paradox was resolved with her third thought of the day.

"It looks like I was a good person after all. I am in heaven."

So this was the afterlife. To be honest, it was not what she had expected. Her body felt tired and sore, but she supposed she could bear it if that was the price to pay for retaining her touch, sight and hearing.

Did she retain taste and smell as well? She couldn't smell anything, but the environment might be too clean to have an associated scent. This was heaven after all.

"It's cold," her fourth thought of the day was not as momentous as the previous ones and, with a sigh, she decided to stop listing them. "I should explore my surroundings."

Still with some apprehension she felt the surface on which she was lying and felt it soft, supple, springy and rocking faintly. Her body was covered by very thin sheets, like medical gauze, but its sheer number was more than enough to insulate her from the cold.

Cold?

Now that she thought about it, it wasn't really cold. The high walls of ice had predisposed her to believe so, but in reality the temperature was quite warm.

I should get up.

She flexed her legs, and the next thing she knew she was falling backwards again, crumpling the sheets in an attempt to drown out the pain burning her thighs. Heaven's grievance department would be getting a letter soon enough, bruises were not something befitting service for all eternity.

And then the sheets slipped over her body, as if someone had pulled them to the other side. She endured the pain and sat up, helping herself with her arms.

"Smallville?"

Lying down, her body had caused a slight depression in this strange elastic surface. Clark, only half a meter away from her, and asleep in his own depression, had been completely invisible to her.

Maybe she had been wrong, maybe this was hell. A bizarre and twisted one where a blue demon from the department of ironic punishments would cast his not-so-evil victims into a corner of Dante's first circle.

This was her grief for systematically irritating the only son of the family that had provided her with shelter and food during her most difficult moments. Now she was doomed to wander this desert, suffering at every step because of the bruises on her legs.

Or worse, doomed to spend the rest of eternity with Clark as her only companion. Alone with him to talk, laugh and cry as they slowly descended into madness.

Or worse, meant to please him sexually, as indicated by the tiny items of clothing strewn around them both!

She didn't even have time to have a panic attack.

Lois Lane fainted.