Ryan held his breath as Wendy reached down and stirred the names in the trash bag. They had raided the building for office supplies, finding a ruler, scissors, paper, and pens. They had cut the paper rectangles evenly with great care, so that it would be impossible to tell by feel alone whose was whose, and they had all ensured they folded them identically, so there could be no foul play. Ryan had considered folding her paper in some clever way that made it more likely to be selected, except he couldn’t think of what that fold might be.
Wendy unfolded the paper. Her hands were not shaking, which was impressive. Ryan was barely keeping himself from quaking in fear, and he was surely one of the hardest people here. Eternal bliss versus eternal torment, and it all came down to a lottery. Could this really be happening? It didn’t make any sense, and yet the angel had said this was how it was, and angels never lied.
“Alexandra,” Wendy read.
“Oh my gosh!” a woman gasped from the back of the room. People turned to look, and from the sound of it, Alexandra was crying softly. Ryan didn’t turn, though. He kept her eyes on Wendy, searching for signs of foul play.
Wendy fished around in the trash bag, keeping her eyes averted. She drew forth another name.
“Thomas.”
The young man in the front row jolted slightly, putting his hands on the empty chairs beside him for balance, but otherwise did not react.
“Rhiannon.”
A shriek from a tall woman, who then said: “Wait, did she say Rhiannon?”
“Yes, aren’t you listening?” snapped Josh, a short young man who was clearly just frustrated that it wasn’t his name that had been called.
Wendy drew the next name.
“Anita.”
Anita smiled peacefully, as if she had always known it was going to be her. Was there more than pure randomness going on here? Was what seemed like dumb luck actually divine intent? Was all of this happening according to God’s plan? What if those chosen were actually those who were most worthy?
Ryan prayed, prayed like he never had before. He confessed his sins in his mind: his cruelty to his ex husband, who had not entirely deserved it, done out of hurt. His pettiness to his fellow schoolteachers, done out of pride and jealousy and insecurity in his own competence. His departure from the church, as he discovered his identity and broke with his family. Please, he thought, please, I love you, God. You are the one true God. Please let it be me. I know I haven’t been perfect, I know I could have been a better partner and I know I punctured my neighbor’s tires and blamed it on her dog, but please, let me into your realm, I promise for the rest of time I will be better, I will practice kindness and devotion, please let me in!
Wendy reached in the bag, calmly. Ryan realized Wendy’s name hadn’t come up yet. What if it did? Would everyone think it was fraud, especially since it was the final name? Would Ryan have another chance, if that happened?
Wendy’s expression remained impassive as she read the final name:
“Josh.”
Everything was still for seven seconds.
Then all Hell broke loose.
~
“It’s not fair!”
“This was always a stupid method of choosing!”
“I refuse to abide by these results!”
“Hey, we had a plan, and we should stick to it. Just because you didn’t get what you wanted, doesn’t mean –”
“You’re only saying that cause you got lucky!”
“I think there was collusion. How do we know that Wendy didn’t cheat –”
“Because she didn’t wind up choosing her own name, you think skulled –”
“This is a sham –”
“A disgrace!”
“A mockery of God!”
“No, it’s you who is making a mockery of democracy? What about all that stuff you said about what America stands for? We all agreed on this –”
“I demand a redo!”
“Why, cause you lost? And if you aren’t chosen again, are you going to keep calling redos until you win?”
“I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. I’ve spent my whole life helping others. I ran a soup kitchen for twenty years. And I’ve gone to church every Sunday for my entire life. I’ve lost my husband and one of my children, and throughout I’ve remained devout. Now, I’m not saying I deserve Heaven – that’s not for me to judge – but the idea that my eternal afterlife should be decided by a random drawing is, frankly, insulting.”
The argument continued, and the hourglass ticked down. Wendy made sure to speak the right amount – above average, enough to defend herself, but not to be too loud of a voice. Everything was going according to plan. She had felt the tiny folded corner of her piece of paper as she put it in the bag, and deliberately made sure not to pick it. Because of course there was no way the five sixths of the group who weren’t picked were going to let the results stand, no matter how fair it was.
“We can at least agree to leave off any final decisions until the next dawn,” Wendy said. “We shouldn’t be rash.” Her biggest fear was that people would rush the Breakroom, and all five slots would be taken before she had a chance.
“I don’t see why we need to wait,” Josh said. “We had a method, we all agreed to it, there is no need to second guess. It’s not complicated. Stop being so biased.”
Kyle was quick to respond. “Oh, and who’s unbiased? You? You were chosen; I hardly think it’s a coincidence that you want to go through with this stupid method.”
“Didn’t you vote for this stupid method? You’re all just sore losers and hypocrites.”
As the argument devolved, people had stood up, and gradually the main mass of people had shifted out into the larger main area.
“Let’s not be rash,” Wendy kept repeating. She had to shout, but people listened to her – they were already in the habit. “We agreed to decide everything as a group, so as a group, we shouldn’t let anyone into the Breakroom until we come to a final decision.”
No one was willing to argue with that.
The arguments about the names continued, but Wendy tuned it out. The hourglass was almost entirely out, and she watched the Breakroom as the last grains drained, curious about what might happen. And then suddenly, somehow, there was a person in the breakroom, a young woman, one of their number – how had she gotten there? Wendy started to shout, but it was too late now, there was no time –
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
~
Lucile’s heart was going crazy. Her limbs were all asleep, from how she had folded them in painful positions to fit inside the fridge, which had barely fit her, despite her petiteness. She had left the fridge door ajar, praying no one would notice her eyes peeking through the crack, looking at the hourglass. She didn’t know for sure if she could make it to Heaven from inside the fridge, but she decided it was better not to risk it. She should be able to leave the fridge, sit in one of the five Rolly Chairs of Ascension, and get beamed up or whatever before anyone had time to react, if she could time it perfectly.
And time it perfectly she had. The hourglass was on its last grains when she flopped her way out of the fridge, limbs screaming in pain, but it would all be worth it when she got into Heaven – eternal bliss, can you imagine? And she sat in the chair, which as far as she could tell was a normal office chair, waiting for her ascension –
Suddenly something emerged from beneath the table, something huge, and before she could react, it grabbed her and lifted her, and her thrashing limbs failed to resist, and it carried her out of the Breakroom and dumped her on the floor in front of everyone.
It was Avery, the massive man who had previously slammed the chair against the window to no avail. He shook his head at her sadly, even as she was thinking you idiot! We could have both gone to Heaven if we had just stayed!
Someone started clapping, and everyone else joined in, and they were all applauding Avery, but Lucile couldn’t look, turned away in shame.
And she looked at the Breakroom, as the sand ran out, and just before it did, someone stepped out from behind the refrigerator, (how had she not noticed him?), and it was Quenton, and he sat in a chair with a victorious look on his face.
And the sand ran out, and there was a resounding chime that was high pitched and yet Lucile somehow felt it deep in her bones, and a beam of light descended in the Breakroom, covering Quenton, and when it faded there was no sign of the man or the chair he had sat on.
The people looked on in silence.
The hourglass flipped over of its own volition and began trickling down the time until the next dawn.
~
Wendy couldn’t believe she had let this happen. She had been aware of the danger, she had been vigilant, and made sure not to let anyone near the Breakroom as the sand ran down –
But she had failed to realize that people could already be in there, hiding, and there had been not just one, but three people in there somehow, and only the selflessness of Avery had prevented their meager five slots remaining from dwindling to a measly two.
The first order of business was to make sure this never happened again. There was masking tape in one of the cubicles, and she taped off a thick, clear line on the floor, in a fifteen foot radius around the door to the Breakroom, and Wendy made absolutely clear to everyone, and made absolutely sure that they agreed, that no one was to pass the line, and if anyone did, everyone else was to immediately go after them and grab them and bring them back and no need to treat them gently, because they were trying to steal a spot in Heaven.
The next order of business was politics. “We should have some way to reward Avery,” she announced.
They were back in the conference room, and she counted the chairs to be absolutely sure she hadn’t lost track of anyone again, since there were thirty chairs and thirty in their death group. Only two chairs were vacant – one for Quenton, and one for Wendy herself, who stood in front of the room, teacher style.
“Reward how?” Josh challenged. “You want to give him a kiss, or something?”
Everyone glared at him and made sounds of disapproval. Even in Limbo, some things were off limits.
“Why don’t you give him a kiss yourself, you homo,” Lucile muttered, and everyone turned their glares on her. She sat in the middle of the room, and both vacant seats were next to her.
“There’s a pretty obvious reward we can give,” Wendy said. “A slot in Heaven. If anyone is worthy, surely someone who would pass up his own chance at Heaven to protect fairness is deserving.”
“That’s not fair!” said Josh.
“Yeah, so we should discuss that,” Wendy replied. “Obviously, we did use the random ballot method, and came to a result, but now through foul play beyond our control, there are only four slots remaining, and five people who we selected. So as I see it, there are three options. We could randomly choose four of the five people to get the remaining spots. We could redraw four new people from the pool of all twenty eight of us. Or we could use some other method that’s less random, including potentially finding a way to reward those –” she indicated Avery – “who have proven their worth.”
“We should just do random from us five who were already selected,” Josh said, “That’s the only fair way to do it.”
“That isn’t fair at all!” Elena shouted. “What about Avery? What about all of us?”
Josh said, “If you insist, we can add Avery, and just choose three of us five. But that does depart from the original agreement.”
“This is stupid,” Lucile said. “You are all stupid. Random was always a stupid method, but so is every other way. The only one who wasn’t stupid was Quenton, and he’s in a better place now.”
“I hate to say this, but I agree with her,” George said. “Not with everything she said, of course, but I agree that random is never going to be a satisfying method. We should use some sort of method that is more deliberate.”
There were nods.
“Okay,” Wendy said, “Seems like there is some support for that idea. Let’s take a vote – all in favor of abandoning randomness as a method, and using some other method?”
It didn’t take long for the majority of hands to be raised. When Thomas saw that there was going to be a majority, he raised his hand too, and said “I mean, yeah, even though I was selected, I agree that there is no particular reason.”
“This is bullshit,” Josh said. “If this is all just another test from God, to see who is honorable, you are all failing.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“No, angels don’t lie,” said Wendy. “Now: what should our new method of deciding be? Heads up folks, I know it’s been a long day, but I’m pretty sure we don’t need to sleep or eat in this place, so let’s focus up.”
~
“Hi there,” Thomas said.
The older man grunted.
“My name is Thomas. Nice to meet you! What’s your name?” He stuck out his hand.
The older man stared at the extended hand. “... Loris,” he said eventually. He did not shake hands.
Thomas withdrew his hand, using it to rub the back of his neck.
“Ah, nice to meet you,” he said again. “I’m from Upstate New York, although I went to college in California, which is where I, you know, died. It was a truck that hit me, can you believe? It was over in an instant.” Thomas forced a laugh. “Anyway, what about you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I do.” Loris said.
“What?”
“I do.”
“You do what?”
“I do mind you asking.”
“Oh.” Thomas laughed nervously. “Well. Sorry to bother you, then. And nice to meet you, Loris!”
Thomas had learned, back on Earth, that to ingratiate yourself to people it was best to use their names. It showed respect, or attention, or something.
And he had to ingratiate, because this was the new method. He had been screwed out of his life, getting killed by a truck that had surely not had the right of way. And then he had been screwed out of his lottery success. It had seemed too good to be true, that he would go to Heaven for eternal bliss based solely on a random drawing, and of course it had been too good to be true. But he wouldn’t give up. That was what he had learned, back in his business classes. It was really the only thing he had learned. Success took hard work and charm, and charm was hard work.
He searched for people in the crowd – who would be most susceptible to his charms? Who could he convince that he was likeable, that he was virtuous, that he was deserving of one of the four remaining slots in Heaven?
But before Thomas could pick out his next target, someone approached him. She was short, surely under five feet, and he remembered her name only because he had thought she was hot. He wasn’t sure if he should say her name, to connect, or not say it, to show he wasn’t a creep, but while he was being indecisive she spoke:
“What’s your name?”
“Thomas.”
“I’m Trinity. Let me cut right to the chase: are you trustworthy?”
“I’d like to think so!”
“Good. Let’s agree to both vote for each other, then?”
“Oh. Um, yeah, for sure. Definitely.”
“Nice. And keep it on the down low. There’s only four slots, after all.”
Thomas nodded. This made so much more sense than his strategy. Why bother ingratiating yourself to random people when you could just bargain with them? Better to use what leverage you had – your own votes. Thomas headed off into the crowd, looking for his next target.
Every person got four votes, for who they thought should go to Heaven, to be cast before the next dawn. The rules were, you had to use all four, they had to be for four different people, and you couldn’t vote for yourself. This had been determined by the quorum.
That meant that the average number of votes someone would get would be four. Most people will probably get fewer, but some will get more. As a matter of pure statistics, it was unlikely that too many people will have more than seven or eight votes.
If he could find four more people to swap votes with, and then just ingratiate himself with a few more to earn their votes, he should have a good shot of making it to the top four, and securing eternal bliss.