Scenes from a Daydream

She laughed, and The Devil wasn’t sure what to do. The Devil had just gone through the tedious explanation that regardless of beliefs and actions of her human existence, everyone comes to Hell for eternal damnation. At least for a bit.

Through the millennia, The Devil was sure they had seen it all. The affronted sapiens who had been so sure of what did or didn’t happen after death. The begging disbelief from others. They’d even seen laughter from either the truly deranged or the ones who celebrated the news victoriously. One of the more unique responses was a lack of surprise, followed by disappointed acceptance.

For some reason, the Innocents never came through this channel. The Devil could never understand why the sapiens thought age or experience had anything to do with that designation.

But this octogenarian, in full possession of her faculties, was laughing as though she’d just heard the punchline of a lifetime. Which The Devil supposed she had, in a way. Apart from a few missteps along the way, she had lived a life considered “good” by almost any metric or religious doctrine. She had experienced a nearly complete spectrum of human experience and maintained that goodness from the beginning. Surely she had expected at least some good news, right?

The Devil decided to set the question aside for now, and instructed her to her first station of damnation. They were going to keep an eye on that one. Maybe she had lost it as they all do, and her collapse had just presented as a good-natured laugh. As time passed, or something that was a distant cousin of time, she screamed and cried as much as any of them. The Damned were given occasional moments of rest, which is essential for any effective damnation curriculum. During those moments, she would still chuckle to herself occasionally. The Devil’s curiosity was deepening to agitation. What was so funny?