Heaven, Part 2

[Cont.]

When the cops find bodies here, it is never a bad thing. Everyone celebrates the return of a citizen whom we thought had wandered off and gotten lost. Heaven is big. There’s no danger, but we all like to stick together. It’s more comfortable that way. Humans are herd animals.

No more violent assaults ever happen, as they did so frequently on Earth. The only thing that gets shredded here is paper.

All evidence is always good: it always solves the crime; there’s no forged evidence or false evidence, or evidence that has been tampered with. That’s why all court cases are closed: they’ve all been solved.

There are no ditches where random murders occur. Here, murder is unheard of. And the ditches are kept clean; none of them spoil the look of the landscape.

There is no hellfire to ignite your body and then spread to your friends, family, and neighbors. The fires all come from God, so they are friendly. They do not want to destroy you; they want to warm you and give you light to read by. Reading is big here.

I once saw a heavenly resident lying flat on the ground, covered in what looked like blood. I screamed and fainted, but the fellow revived me and proved that I had jumped to a false conclusion: he explained that he was only bathing in a favorite type of red pastry filling, which on earth his parents had forbidden him to eat; so here in heaven he enjoys dousing himself in the substance and just lying on his back, with eyes closed and tongue protruding, basking in the scent and the feel of the dessert.

The cudgels and bludgeons and truncheons here are just for show. People carry them only for the sake of style, the way that folks will wear non-prescription spectacles, or use a cane not to help them walk but because it looks spiffy and is equipped with a hidden switchblade.

§

The landscape is beautiful in heaven. Everywhere, there is hot oozing steam. Instead of narrow mulch beds lining the foundation of houses, there are rivulets of obsidian.

No hard labor need be performed: all the construction work is accomplished; people can just relax and enjoy life. So, since there is no further use for metal hammers, they are displayed as decorative accents throughout the architecture, like the cudgels and truncheons.

There is a massive sign that says “No Exit,” which is seventeen miles high.

Anvils are positioned throughout the air. They hover; they pose no threat; they will not fall.

Here, everyone is modest and chaste, but not on account of any command, law, or social pressure; people are naturally inclined to abstain from lustful activity, and to sublimate what formerly were their sensual drives. Therefore, with the purest impulse from their own heart, everyone desires to maintain their virginity (which state is restored to each soul upon entering the premises).

And the garbage cans do not hold trash: they are where you deposit fruit that happens to fall from heaven’s trees.

§

Tattoos were popular on Earth, but here in Heavan they are almost never seen. If you want to display some imagery upon your person, you can just get a necklace that has a plate of gold attached, which you can wear at all times, and the gold can be engraved in any manner that you specify. You just work it out with the cherubs who do all the etchings. Heaven is home to many of the finest artists.

No soul slices her wrists here, even if she thinks that she cannot resist doing so. Each soul always finds the willpower to withstand the temptation.

There is a list of all the residents of Heaven, on a golden plaque.

None of the animals have rabies. There are no violent slashers. Nothing is destroyed by acid. Flying metal projectiles are not a common occurrence. Instead, ladies with children populate the environment.

Even the villains are kindhearted. Employers are generous: none of them cheat you out of your wages. There is a lot of vacation time.

§

If your feet become cold, you can put them into these slots that can be found positioned every few paces along the roads of gold, and they serve to warm you up. There’s probably a heater inside them, or something.

If your flesh does happen to get torn, or if any pain grows too intense, you can always call the king, whose name is Jesus, and he will heal you and administer anesthetics. And every soul is allotted forty-two wives, all thrilling and vivacious, to act as one’s personal friends and helpers.

You need never fear a tetanus infection, because there are no bacteria in Heaven. All the bacteria went to Hell.

You never see any sick rotting mutant undead limbs writhing on the dirty ground, so you never need to tie them down with ropes.

And the light is always provided by God or his Son; or the New Star that he created to preside over the Solar System, which replaced his old Sun. For this reason, it is always bright enough, even indoors, to do any type of painting or cinematography: there are no cramped rooms that are shallow and dim, or reeking dungeons or wet basements. Unless you specifically request the construction of a dark closet, so that you can have a place to develop your own photographs. God will do that. He wants you to be happy.

There are dry bones in the desert, but these are not from former residents: they were created as part of the décor; like dinosaur skeletons were, in the Earth. But the dinosaurs that you encounter here in Heaven are living creatures with souls and feelings: God made them to spice the place up. They will not harm you.

The politics are all fair. Things run well; nothing needs much improvement. All the fantasy is very natural, and miracles are normal here. Most of the arguments, if there are any, center on how we should go about filling any vacuums that exist. For there are still several cavities throughout Heaven. God and Jesus intend to fill them with new worlds.

[To be continued . . .]