You're about to face the Judge. The spirit can see your heart. Read your thoughts and feelings. And they will tell you what you do NOT want to hear. The truth. You sure holding your rank and throne is worth this? -- Anon Guest
You live your life, and then it ends. Many, many chapters have been written about what happens next. But for a great majority, they agree. After the spirit leaves the mortal realm, there is judgement. Judgement, and peril.
Weigh your heart against a feather. Have your life viewed and judged by the On High. Pay the fees to the Eternal Judges. Does your name appear in the special book? Make sure you have your passport to the afterlife. Cough up two obol for Charon...
No matter the judgement, there's always some who believe they are right... when they are very, very wrong.
What remains true is - you can't take it with you. The titles, the crowns, the rich clothes, the accolades... they're all left with mortal flesh. So someone who perished on a gold-plated yacht is understandably surprised to enter the afterlife with the memory of a simple shift as his sole clothing.
"What the hell? Some asshole stole my rolex! It was rated to two thousand meters!"
"It is well out of warranty by now," said the psychopomp. "Four thousand meters and falling." They gestured to a portal, which was a lot darker than the expected pearly gates. "Step forth and be judged."
He expected a singular angel and a book. He found a courtroom, where the judge looked like the kind of person he'd easily call the cops on. Middle-eastern fellow, long hair. He had a weirdly compassionate and trustworthy face, which made the executive instantly suspicious. The judicial robes were white. Weird. The halo was also... odd.
There was a definite angel at the Prosecution desk. And an actual demon in the defense.
"You are to be judged," said the terrorist in robes, "by a jury of your victims."
He breathed out in relief. He hadn't lifted a finger against anyone.
"Not so fast, chuckles," said the demon. "Look at your works, and despair."
He turned, looking to the jury box... which expanded to a host of millions. Old people. Children. An awful lot of women.
"What?" he said, "I don't know any of these people! I never hurt anyone."
The angel started reading his crimes. Theft by financial menaces. Criminal neglect of tenants. Grievous Bodily Harm with a Hospital. Criminal Withholding of Human Rights... it went on and on for a century.
And each of the jurists was a witness. Describing how he managed to make their lives literally unlivable. Describing the pain they went through, personally. Describing the depression and desperation of their family. Describing how so very many had to choose between food and shelter. Had to live in their cars just to work enough to pay their other bills. Had to live on the streets because they could no longer afford the most pitiable roofs above their heads.
He heard about how he ordered his companies to ignore black mold in his rental properties. How he ordered the hospitals he owned to do more with less.
How he frequently told the poor, starving, and huddled masses to "get a job".
"You call myself a follower of my teachings, yet you have ignored them all," said the judge. "You do not know me, and you have done nothing to deserve the paradise you anticipated. Therefore, I must send you to punishment."
The defending demon smiled with many sharp teeth. "My boss is a big fan of your methods."
"Will that get me leniency?"
"Hell, no!"
[Photo by Wesley Tingey on Unsplash]
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