Kilgore Trout Sci-Fi Collection

The Best of Intentions


Corwyn Green


(1997)

St. Peter pretended to study his book, in which everything was written, and wondered that to do. Then, "I have never seen anyone like you before," he said. "Purgatory doesn't exist: it was something people made up to explain what happens to people like you. See, good and evil aren't quantifiable. Matter can be counted in atoms, energy in photons, but there is no smallest particle of good or evil. One can be stronger than the other by such a small degree that only God, and this book, could see which side wins. There's an infinity of possible proportions of good to evil, and only one, of the infinity, is the possibility that good and evil will be exactly balanced. And you are that."
"I'm sorry," said the man, "but I've always tried to do good. I always go to church and I've read the entire bible--the "beget"'s included--three times. How did I go so wrong?"
"You have hurt people 'for their own good', only it wasn’t good. Yet you did do much good: exactly as much good as evil."
"So where do I go," asked the man, "heaven or hell? Make your decision."
"I only read this book in which everything has been written." St. Peter said, "I don't decide where you go. You decide that, by your actions."
"So... what now? Who decides? God? Maybe I should pray?"
"It's too late, now, to pray. And I don't decide: you do. So... decide: do you go to heaven or hell? Whatever you choose, it shall be done."
To St. Peter's surprise, the man hesitated. "Well, like what you said about purgatory not existing, maybe some of what I know about heaven and hell isn't true either. I would like to know exactly what my options are before choosing."
So St. Peter told him about the absolute freedom in heaven, about the joy and beauty. Contrary to popular opinion, he said, sex was permitted and better than ever. In heaven, no one ever thought of cheating on his/her spouse--or of getting another-- because one spouse was just enough. All the succubuses, incubuses and pornography were in hell, where the few who wanted love could not get it. The fire and brimstone existed, he said, and so did the devils with pitchforks. The devils are as common as mosquitoes in a swamp, but one sting of a pitchfork makes a million mosquito bites seem like a welcome alternative. And certainly, devils could not be killed like mosquitoes.
"Sounds like heaven is perfect," said the man.
St. Peter agreed.
"So what's the good of me being in heaven? I can't improve it." The man said.
"You could do good deeds, if that's what makes you happy. It will be arranged."
"But heaven is already perfect. What's the use of a good deed if it doesn't make anything better? I can't change anything in heaven."
"Any change would be for the worse," St. Peter said.
"But hell is the opposite," said the man, "if some of my well-intentioned deeds went wrong on earth, hurting people, in hell, that would be impossible. Any change in hell would be a change for the better, so I can't make things worse. Unless hell is set up so I can't do anything, there is a chance that I can, maybe, in some insignificantly small way, improve it"
"I don't know... I don't think anyone has ever tried improving hell."
"Then the choice is clear. Since I can't help in heaven, but there is a chance I could help in hell, I'm going to hell."
And so he did. And hell wasn't set up in such a way that improvements were impossible: in his first day there, the man managed to help Sisyphus with his stone and eased Hitler's suffering.
And there was a whole eternity of such days ahead of him.


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