NEGOTIATING HELL: a sequel to CS Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." Ch 7 -"What could be worse?"

Alone, Mary paced in the waiting room. On earth, she was summoned by supervisors many times. But this was brand-new — she was dead!

This was God’s office, Yahweh, Jehovah, the Almighty, etc. Did it really matter by what name? God was God and she was afraid. Maybe God would tell her she wasn’t supposed to die and send her back with a message. Or maybe, it was worse!

What did God want? Mary was happy here in heaven; she hoped to stay. On earth, she worked in Human Resources for her 7-career years. She was a solid performer, yet the stress must have killed her. Her job wore like 49 dog years in the federal penal system. Everybody was shocked when she died young. Some at the funeral acted like her best friend, sucking up to family and putting on a sympathy show. It was sad. They were the seal on her pine box. Yet she sorta loved them in her own weird way, now. Grateful, she felt rested and enjoyed God’s water gardens. A week in heaven passed like minutes, as opposed to work! As she waited outside God’s office, she wondered, what did He look like?

“Miss Mary, Ma’am, please have a seat? It may be a few moments before God sees you,” said the angelic secretary. Her desk name plate read, “Seraphiel.” She wore white-framed Seraphin sunglasses. It reminded Mary of her high school secretary. “Please call me Sera.”

“Yes Ma’am, Sera.” Mary was deeply reminiscing about high school, when the white-framed Sera interrupted her. It was time. Mary stood up and stumbled to the door, wondering how to address God. Mr. God? Your Almightyness? God-Sir? ‘God’ sounded too informal, especially since they hadn’t been properly introduced. Sera interrupted her thought to say God was ready to see her. This is it, boys and girls!

God’s office decor was not predictable. She expected magnificence with holy pictures of saints and angels. Or maybe there were planets or stars; as personal artwork signed by the author, Himself. Being on holy ground, she took off her shoes and entered. She fell to her knees and saw a cloud of …?

“Miss Mary, please come in and sit,” welcomed God. His face was out of focus but He pointed to a chair. Was this cataracts? Immediately, she remembered the beatific vision. Sadly, she did not possess it. She bowed in sadness, but admitted she held many attachments upon her death.

He said sit—so she sat. As she wobbled to the chair, she grabbed at anything to stabilize her limp legs. He was not what she expected. He seemed extraordinary, exceptionally distinguished and yet, normal. She could see His veiled smile and loving eyes. She looked down, humbled.

His office was casual. The walls were decorated with moving seascapes of famous beaches around the earth. There was a picture on His desk, of baby Jesus holding a dove. God sat at a simple oak desk under a suspended holographic computer. He was looking at what appeared to be a contract, based on the many dotted lines for signatures at the bottom. Mary’s mouth was open as she gaped around the room. She stumbled over a live-grass rug as she sat. Feeling embarrassed, she recovered while feeling small and inadequate.

“Not quite what you expected?" remarked God, putting her at ease. His computer keyboard clicked away by itself, adding and moving text around.

“No Sir, not really,” replied Mary. “I guess I didn’t expect pictures on walls or even walls. I never envisioned You needing an office,” said Mary reservedly.

“Ah yes, you expected a ginormous golden throne surrounded by throngs of angels, blaring trumpets, cherubs playing harps and clouds, right?” asked God.

“Well, yes Sir,” stammered Mary. His voice sounded muffled or filtered. Then Mary remembered that no man can hear God's voice and live--but wasn't she dead?

“I get that a lot,” commented God. “Let’s talk about you. I know you like beaches. Waves are like hugs to you, relaxing and loving. I do think that water was my best invention. What can you not do with water?" Mary nodded.

“Yes Sir,” Mary was awed. “If You please, Sir, how do I address Your You-ness?”

“How about Dad?” replied God with blurry but magnetic, sapphire eyes. She wished she could focus on His features better.

Mary started crying at His invitation and looked down. He handed her a tissue. She was in the presence of the Almighty Creator, who loved her as His daughter."

“You’re my girl, always have been,” soothed God. “The light of my life. Since we’re family, let’s keep things informal. I don’t want titles. My self-esteem is fine. Souls need not remind me who ‘I AM‘—get it?” He laughed. “Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I called you home.”

'“I am.” Mary’s words were tentative. “Oops, am I allowed to say that?”

“It happens. Not a problem,” winked God. “Sometimes I crack Myself up.” He looked at her for a long time, lovingly. It made her feel self-conscious.

“I wasn’t sure You knew who I was,” Mary drew herself tighter.

“I created you, Mary. The world wasn’t complete without you,” shared God. “Anyway, I have a special request. It may clear up why you were made and My plan for your life.”

Just then, sunglass-shaded Sera floated into the office with two glasses of lemonade. With finesse, she set them down and quietly left the room, winking at her.

“Sera is an ‘angel’ of an assistant. And she makes the best lemonade.” God picked up His glass and took a sip. Mary was shocked. It never occurred to her that God ate or drank. “I don’t drink because I must,” said God reading her thoughts. “I like it. And I don’t understand why humans call bad things ‘lemons,’ do you?”

Mary shrugged. She needed to watch her thoughts, something she should have done when alive.

“Yes, I always know what souls think, but we digress,” said God. “Well, here it comes … I would like you to go to hell and help Satan with a problem of his own making.”

Mary, who had yet to take a sip, dropped her glass. “Wait, what? You want me to …?” she cried, lemonade splashing everywhere.

“I saw that coming. And yes, you heard me correctly,” said God.

“Are you sentencing me to hell?" Mary gasped.

“No. Satan tells me he has labor problems,” God went on. “The fallen angels have rebelled against him, and are unionizing. Clueless, Satan is blinded by his pride. So, we wish to help him—through you.”

“You talk to Satan?” Mary was incredulous as her shock mounted. There was too much for a human mind to digest in His request.

“Heavens, yes,” replied God, chuckling. “We talk regularly. First, he vents. Then I bounce solutions off him, which he ignores. Then he recycles them back as his own ideas. I’m entertained and I stay 100% in control of his operation.”

“You talk—regularly?” Mary could not visualize God and Satan talking, let alone routinely. This was not the heaven she had imagined.

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,” smiled God. It’s more fun that way. Try telling a blatant transgressor, ‘I pray that you can heal from this …”

“You want me to help Satan? Why? How?” She buried her face in her hands as she remembered the infantile behaviors she addressed working in HR — all Satan’s doing.

“This is why I created your “you-ness.” You’re perfect for this,” said God. “I know you called it prison, but you read people—both good and bad. And your quick-wittedness is a perfect match for Satan. You have prudence and you carry your cross fairly well.”

“But Dad, it was prison,” cried Mary. She liked the word, ‘Dad.’

“Everybody compares their jobs to a prison,” said God.

“It was entitled ‘Correctional Facility’,” expounded Mary, still clinging to the literal.

“Hell … prison … it’s all the same metaphor,” said God. “One day together, we’ll virtual reality the big picture.”

“But Dad, it killed me!” replied Mary.

God radiated kindness, as Mary interpreted her death. “Jesus flipped the table on death, and I need you. Besides, pinch yourself. How does your soul stand before Me? Oopsies! — sorry, we’ll get you another meat suit. I forget sometimes. We have infinite numbers of them here. Unlike earthly movie stars’ meat suits, ours don’t smell. But you’ve gotta smile at their irony …”

He continued, “I promise I won’t give you any more than you can handle,” said God. “And Satan is always in my crosshairs. Are you willing?”

“You mean I have a choice?” asked Mary hopefully.

“Yes, you have options,” said God. “You will have everything you need upfront to do this job, not like on earth.”

Mary slumped. She carefully repositioned her feet between lemon slices and glass shards. “How?”

“First, know that your soul is off limits,” God reassured. “This is not your earthly test. You will go into hell to assist Satan with petty negotiations. Mary sat stone-faced for a second then burst out laughing. The thought of Satan at the bargaining table was a brilliant and poetic punishment. She liked God. He was both funny and creative.

“Yes, it is a hoot, isn’t it?” said God, smiling. “Satan’s HR and law team laughed too. That’s how they found themselves in solitary confinement, for decades." Mary guffawed, relating. ‘Me-time’ sounded heavenly after a leeched-laden life.

God pointed to the floating computer hologram and document. “This is the contract Satan must sign for your visit. Any breaches of contract and the deal is off.”

Mary’s laugh slowed to a chuckle, “why doesn’t Satan use his own HR?”

“He can’t trust them,” God was giggling. “Satan has no idea who he has down there. He can’t see anything outside his ego-bubble. BTW, he has no computers down there, yet. It seems they melt. Satan is constructing climate-controlled rooms for you. I will supply unlimited hard drives, servers and infinite supplies. You are hereby invited to pick prime furniture and state-of-the-art equipment, which never goes obsolete. Ever hear of unlimited bandwidth and Wi-Fi signals everywhere?”

“Even in the bathroom?” Mary interrupted, “that sounds divine.”

“And get this,” God smiled. “Your software programs never need updating. Everything I have is yours. Plus, you won’t stay long. It will be like you said on earth, ‘eight and the gate’.”

Often, 8-hour shifts were abused in the prison system on earth. Otherwise, maybe she wouldn’t have died. Mary asked, “Do I get weekends, holidays, benefits and vacation time, too?”

God smiled, “you will want for nothing.” After a moment, he continued “there are a few details to finalize. Knowing you, I don’t expect the job to drag.”

“But I still don’t understand. Why help him?” asked Mary.

“Cheap entertainment,” God winked. “Remember, Satan doesn’t trust anyone. You are a neutral party, whose only purpose is to deliver advice. He’s got a power leak and he needs us. We are supplying a lesson in tough love.”

Mary panicked, “Satan is the father of lies. What about selective memory loss? Will he forget my status and torture me?” asked Mary. “What if he doesn’t like what I say? Is he going to set me on fire and lock me away?”

God smiled, “Nope, your job is to be my hands and feet, to offer options and counsel. He makes all his own decisions. Besides, he needs you, which he won’t admit. Harming you, harms his cause. You, my sweet daughter, are untouchable.”

“I don’t know,” said Mary. “Was my other option to haunt the morons who sent me to an early grave? It’s nothing personal, just business.”

God eyed Mary dubiously, “Mary, who runs the revenge department?”

“Luckily, not me!” Mary shouted. “What happens to my co-workers on earth?”

“Imagine how things are going for them right now—without you. Who is doing all your work?” God smiled. “Meanwhile, think about what you might need to make this fun. Think big since cost is no issue. Let’s do this up right.”

Mary exhaled into a pretty, winning smile, “When do we start?”

“First, I need your fiat. The rest is still in flux,” replied God.

“Yes. I trust in You, Dad. But please may I ask for one condition? It can wait until after. Do You know what it is?”

“Deal! Yes, and yes. Nothing would please Me more. It would be My honor,” God smiled. “I will let you know more soon, along with a start date.” God reached out His hand to shake and finalize the deal. His hand was fuzzy, but she shook. She was holding God’s hand! It was warm, comforting and infused her with a peaceful energy. Mary knew she was being dismissed. She stood with a bow, and turned to walked out of the room, in awe. He smelled like home.

“Thank you for the lemonade,” Mary said, genuflecting in gratitude. He winked back.

As Mary found her shoes, she mind-listed her questions for Sera beginning with, “what does one wear when one goes to hell?”

< See below link for Chapter 8: “The learning curve” >

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Talking to a wall

Chapter 2: Jerking Satan’s Chain & the burning laptop

Chapter 3: “Hmm … I guess I read that wrong”

Chapter 4: The devil is in the details

Chapter 5: And what did they want to organize?

Chapter 6: Nothing is ever good enough

Chapter 7: What could be worse?

Chapter 8: The learning curve