Danny's Inferno

         Okay, so here I am, Danny Franklin, chosen to see the modern Hell, and go back to warn mankind against sin. And who do I get as a guide? A failed stand up comedian. Wonderful.

         Ralph started talking again. "So, hot enough for you? Okay bad joke. That's not why I'm here, though. I wish my jokes had been bad enough to land me here." He had sort of a weak southern drawl when he spoke. I was sure I'd seen him on TV somewhere. As he talked, he kept waving in his arms around. He nearly clocked me twice with those beefy hooks.

         "So why are you here?" I wasn't really interested, but I thought it might depress him enough to slow his arms down. No such luck, it just made him more agitated.

         "Well, see, I wasn't all that great a guy, you know? While I was falling on my face with my standup routines, I had to make money some how. Selling the odd bit of crack kept me in my appartment, you know. Turns out that sort of thing counts against you."

         "Fine, that's your story. What am I supposed to see down here?"

         "Well, we've reorganized since the last guy came down here. Instead of circles, we're in departments now. I'll take you through the upper level, for some of the more minor sins. Let's go over to this big building here."

         Big didn't even come close. The thing must have been at least 200 stories tall. It looked like it was made all out of glass. We walked through the sliding doors. Well, I walked through, they closed on Ralph. He wasn't really hurt.

         "Just part of the punishment for minor sinners. They do that to everyone down here. The bosses say that the real world's given them all kinds of ideas. I'd really appreciate it if we could go into the elevator's both at once."

         "Sure, Ralph, sure. Now what are you going to show me here."

         "Oh, everything Danny, everything. Well everything except...the west wing!"

         "Why? What's in the west wing?"

         "Nothing. It's reserved for some of the big wigs from the big software companies. Their going to be forced to spend eternity reworking their big money makers into fully fuctional debugged perfection."

         "That doesn't sound so bad. They'd probably enjoy the challenge."

         "I don't know. They'll be working in the most hellish environment possible."

         "You don't mean you're going to put them into..."

         "That's right. Cubicles. And, they're computers will be slow, and use the most bug ridden OSes. They'll crash at least twice an hour, and every crash will corupt vital data. They'll have annoying bosses who come by to chat at the worst times, and expect status reports three times a day on why they're so far behind. Let's face it, corporate reality has topped anything the big guys down here have thought up before."

         As Ralph went on, we approached the reception desk. Yeah, I know it sounds like a long trip, but that was the point. Every one has to sign in on entry, and the desk is about mile or two away from the doors. It actually took us over an hour to get there, but Ralph filled the time up with his new material. I was starting to think I had been sent there for eternal torment.

         Finally, we got to the desk. Sitting there was quite the vision. Long, raven black hair, deep green eyes. Full figured, full lipped, full everything. I tried a different pick up line. "So, what's your punishment, baby?"

         "Listening to lame lines from assholes like you. Take a look at the picture on the desk."

         I looked. The picture was of a big guy. Baseball cap, blue jeans, flannel shirt. The whole works. Looked like the typical redneck. "This your boy friend? Your eternal torment's coming home to him every night?"

         "No, that's what I looked like before I got here. I was a real chauvanist, and a violent drunk. Now I have to put up with the same kind of behaviour down here. I get to work up here eight hours a day where it isn't so bad, then go down to sub basement 13 where it is."

         Ralph commented, "Poetic justice, huh? The CTO is really big on that kinda thing."

         "CTO?"

         "Chief Tormenting Officer. Old Scratch. You know."

         "And he's set the whole thing up as a corporation?"

         "Sure. He thinks that's the best thing mankind ever came up with. Sucks the life out of the workers. Uses up all kinds of resources for no real purpose. Makes the gap between the rich and poor expand every year. Inspires all kinds of sin and misery. He loves it. So, where do you want to start. Oh, I know. How about the north wing. There's lots of good stuff there."

         I was getting less and less sure I wanted to do this, but what choice did I have? God told me so may get me committed back home, but down here it seemed to be a good excuse. "Okay, let's go."