With a Tangled Skien

  "Keep your glasses handy, dear," Gaea murmured like a fussy old lady as they followed Mira through the door in back of the booth.

  They found themselves in an elevator. There was a wrench. Then the door slid open, and they stepped out into an amusement park. Obviously magic had been used to transport them to the model Hell; there was no telling where on Earth it had been constructed.

  Niobe stared. Directly ahead was a towering Feris wheel, grandly rotating. To one side was a bump-car enclosure, with children squealing happily as the little vehicles crashed harmlessly into each other. Elsewhere were miniature choo-choo trains, zoom-rides, and toy airplanes whirling about a pole. "This is Hell?" Niobe asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Well, the top level," Mira said. "Very mild entertainments, for those who are just waiting for friends, or for the children of those on tour. The ones who really don't have much sin to indulge."

  "What's it like for those who do have significant sin on their souls?" Gaea asked.

  "I'll show you," Mira said eagerly, leading the way to stairs descending below the pavement. These led to a large hall, well-lighted, filled with tables. People were clustered around the tables, intent on what was there.

  They approached the nearest. On it was a giant roulette wheel. "Oh—gambling," Niobe said disapprovingly.

  "You don't understand," Mira said. "Watch for a moment."

  They watched. The wheels turned; the ball rolled and landed in a numbered pocket. A man made an exclamation of joy. "I won! I won!"

  There was a smattering of applause from the other gamblers. The man collected his winnings and bet them on the next spin. And won again.

  "What?" Niobe asked. "Twice in succession? The odds against that—"

  "People can be very fortunate here," Mira said. "They usually do win."

  Gaea nudged her. Niobe lifted the lorgnette and peered at the scene.

  The roulette table was genuine—but little else was. Most of the players were bored park employees in grubby uniforms, not the well-dressed visitors they had appeared to be. There was a control panel at the croupier's place. When the spin commenced, the croupier's fingers touched buttons. This time the gambler bet on number 19, and that was the number the croupier punched. Sure enough, the ball rolled into that slot. The game was rigged.

  Now Niobe looked at the chips the gambler had piled before him. They were genuine. Where, then, was the catch? Surely the Satanists were not really going to let a mark walk out wealthy!

  Well, she could inquire, without giving anything away. "How can you stay in business, if you let people win too much money?"

  "Oh, the chips don't stand for money," Mira said as they moved on to another table. "They stand for points. One thousand points entitles the player to enter the next level, where the real action is."

  "But it seems guaranteed he'll make it."

  "No, it's not guaranteed. Only those people we feel are suitable prospects are admitted."

  "Then you admit it's fixed!"

  Mira turned a surprised gaze on her. "My dear, what do you expect of Hell? Of course it's fixed!"

  "Ask a silly question," Gaea murmured.

  "But you're giving us a tour, and we're not gambling," Niobe persisted.

  "Precisely. If you don't gamble, you can't win. That's the fundamental principle. You are merely looking—but I'm sure that after you've seen what we have to offer, you'll be eager to participate."

  "But isn't there an admittance price?"

  "I am glad you asked that question," Mira said. "Now we are very candid about this. Everything is quite clear. To participate in our entertainments you must sign a standard contract—"

  "In blood?"

  "It's only a pinprick. You'll hardly feel it."

  "A contract saying what?"

  "Well, everyone knows what Hell requires. It isn't as if we're concealing anything."

  "You're after my soul!"

  "Merely a portion of it, since this is only a model of Hell. Technically, all we require is a nominal attribution of evil. Only one percent, actually. If you are seventy percent good, our contract would cause you to be sixty-nine percent good. That's hardly enough to cost you anything in the Afterlife, or to change your designation. Considering what we offer, it's a bargain."

  They were at the next table. This one was for blackjack. Again, the mark was winning; again, the enchanted lenses showed that the game was rigged. Hell wanted the marks to win.

  All of the tables were like that. The methods of gambling differed, but the system was the same.

  "Well, I never did like to gamble," Niobe said.

  "But all of life is a gamble," Mira said enthusiastically.

  "Still, there are other routes to Hell. Let me show you the next level." She led the way to another set of stairs. Niobe paused. "I see the others use the elevator."

  "Well, yes, but they have to sign for it."

  "Sign for it?"

  "Another contract," Gaea said.

  "Merely an amendment," Mira put in quickly.

  "Another one percent of their souls?" Niobe asked. "I thought that was a general admittance fee. What's the point in gambling for points, if you still have to pay to reach the next stage?"

  "Well, the general admittance fee gets a person into the park, and then he plays to determine his eligibility to advance to other levels, but that's a matter of qualification, not payment. If there weren't qualification, some unsuitable people would get into inappropriate levels, and if there weren't payment, we would not, as you pointed out a moment ago, be able to stay in business very long. It's a dual system, perfectly straightforward. Naturally the deeper levels have to be financed, too."

  "Just how many levels are there?"

  "Well, I really don't know the exact number. But no one goes to them all."

  Because, Niobe realized, at one percent per level, that person would lose more than half his soul before he completed the experience, tipping him into Hell for real.

  What a system! Atropos thought.

  What a Hellish system, indeed! Only a fool would fall into that trap—but there were plenty of fools in the process.

  The next level seemed to be a monstrous warehouse for money. Tables were piled with currency of many nations, with ingots of gold and silver and platinum, and with bins of precious stones. Wealth galore!

  Drawn as by a magnet, Niobe went to a vat of sparkling rubies. "May I?" she asked.

  "By all means examine the merchandise," Mira said generously. "Of course you can't keep any of it, as a tourist, but if you decide to join as a participant: for one or two percent of the goodness in her soul! Niobe grimaced. Still, the gems were lovely!

  She picked up a ruby. It was a faceted stone, a deep and glorious red, just about the most beautiful thing she had seen in her life. She turned it between her fingers, half-entranced by its luster. She began to understand the nature of the temptation. Such a fine gem, for so little soul!

  "Perhaps if you examined it more closely," Gaea remarked.

  Oh. Niobe lifted the lorgnette and looked again. The ruby was nothing more than a cherry pit. Niobe made her face a mask, lest she give herself away. All the rubies were cherrystones! The diamonds of the next table were rough lumps of quartz.

  Morbidly curious, she verified one of the stacks of gold coins. It was made of round slices of carrot.

  Now Clotho had to laugh. Carrots—instead of carats! That Satan had a devilish sense of humor! "Devilish," Niobe agreed. "What's that?" Mira asked.

  "Devilishly tempting," Niobe said. She moved on to a table of green bills. They were leaves of lettuce.

  Lettuce! Atropos thought, mentally doubling over with mirth. Literal lettuce! That Satan's a card!

  "Yes, anyone would be tempted by that," Mira said, mistaking the nature of Niobe's smile. "It was this room that convinced me to join. When I saw all the jewelry—" She gestured to a table strung with elaborate and precious necklaces.

  "But you're not a player, are you?" Niobe asked
. "No, I'm Staff. But I started as a player. Then, when I wanted too much—" She bit her lip. "That is—"

  So she had been seduced into giving up too much of her goodness! The operation of the system was becoming clearer. Just as a drug-user became an addict, and the addict had to become a dealer to support his habit, so those who flirted with the trinkets of Hell got drawn ever more deeply in. It was, as Mira said, all perfectly open— except that the actual goods were fakes. Anyone who believed the Father of Lies deserved what he got!

  That brought her up short. If the marks deserved to go to Hell for their greed—wasn't Satan actually performing a service to the Cosmos in ridding the world of them?

  But she knew the answer. Satan did not rid the world of them; he used his converts to facilitate his further dirty work. All the shills at the gaming tables upstairs—all overextended gamblers who now had to work for the house. How much joy did they have here, today?

  And this is only a prettified model of Hell, Atropos thought. Think what the real thing must be like!

  It was indeed a sobering thought.

  "I—know that jewelry will not cure what's wrong with me," Niobe said, letting her tummy sag. "I have eaten too much, for too many years."

  "Then you will love the feasting level!" Mira exclaimed. "Right this way!"

  The next level down was indeed a temptation to a woman who liked to eat. It was an enormous self-service restaurant. The tables were piled with pastries and cakes and fancy desserts. Many women were here, and not a few men and children. All were seated at tables, stuffing themselves with their favorite repasts.

  Niobe paused near a fat man who was cramming cake into his face. "But this is horribly fattening!" she protested.

  "No it isn't" Mira said, pleased. "Our food is absolutely nonfattening and nonfilling. The taste and texture are there, but all the calories are empty—I mean there are no calories. You can eat all you want and never be satiated."

  Now that's a kind of Hell in itself, if the fools only realized, Atropos thought.

  Endless stuffing without consequence. Niobe could appreciate the temptation, but knew that a person did not have to flirt with Hell for it; regular food companies were advertising ONE CALORIE PER BOTTLE, making a seeming virtue of both gluttony and vacuous food—while elsewhere in the world, people were starving. A little selfdiscipline would be better.

  Then she lifted the lorgnette. And made a stifled squeak of revulsion.

  It wasn't cake the man was eating. It was moldy garbage—literally. Most of it managed to shunt itself down his face and front instead of going into his mouth, which explained why he wasn't getting full, but still it was an appalling mess.

  Mira caught her reaction. "What's the matter?" Niobe pondered momentarily, then handed the glasses to her.

  The woman looked through them—and gagged. "You didn't know?" Niobe asked. "I—this can't be—it's horrible!" Mira exclaimed. She walked to the next table, where a child was swilling ice cream sodas, and looked through the glasses. Her face turned greenish.

  Gaea took the lorgnette from her hand before her slackening grip let the glasses drop to the floor. She returned the magical instrument to Niobe.

  Niobe looked at the boy's drink. It was a swirling concoction of sewage. As with the man, most of the stuff dribbled down the lad's chin instead of being swallowed, but some did get in. Probably just enough to feed him.

  "It's a lie!" Mira gasped. "Magic lenses that distort—"

  "No lie," Gaea said. "I am able to see the truth without glasses. The food is garbage. The jewelry on the other floor was junk."

  "But I've got a pass to eat all I want—it's one of the benefits of being Staff—" Mira turned and vomited on the floor beside the boy. It hardly mattered, for the area was already littered with garbage.

  Niobe wrenched the lorgnette away from her eyes. She saw Mira standing by the table, eyes downcast as if glancing approvingly at the boy. There was no sign of vomit. Still, she did not look well.

  After a moment the woman recovered herself somewhat. "Where did you get these glasses?"

  Again, Niobe considered rapidly. "From—Nature."

  "The—the Incarnation of Nature?"

  "Yes. She thought I would need them, here."

  "I—may I borrow them a moment more?"

  Niobe gave her the glasses. "When you're satisfied, I would like to talk to you."

  Mira hurried to another stairway. "There's one level I've never indulged myself in, but I just want to see—"

  They followed her down the stairs, almost running. Niobe was surprised to learn that the woman really had not known about the deceit, but realized it made sense. Satan could accomplish much more evil, much more efficiently, if his own helpers were deluded. How many would consider an all-you-can-eat pass to be an inducement, if they knew the food was garbage?

  That Satan, he's one sharp liar, Atropos agreed.

  The new level appeared to be an elaborate brothel. Extraordinarily voluptuous young women in scanty clothing danced slowly on a stage at one side, their breasts and hips moving suggestively. This did not do anything special for Niobe, other than cause her a gentle wash of jealousy and regret for her own beauty lost, but she saw the effect it had on two men just emerging from the elevator. Both charged forward, their mouths literally drooling.

  What pigs men are! Clotho thought. Then she reconsidered. Except for Samurai...

  Mira was peering through the magic lenses. "No," she said unbelievingly. "They wouldn't!"

  One man dashed up to the stage. "Hey, honey, you for sale?" he demanded, groping for her. The woman gazed down at him, a languorous smile crossing her bright lips. Then she jumped down to the floor, her anatomy bobbing in several places as she landed. She took the man's hand and led him to a curtained alcove. Evidently she was not for sale; she was free.

  Now Niobe could hear urgent grunting from other alcoves. It seemed there were a number of clients busy.

  Mira shook her head. "They are—they really are!" she exclaimed. Then she started laughing. "And to think my ex-husband, the pig, sold his soul for a permanent pass to this level!" Her laughter became so violent that Gaea had to take the lorgnette from her again.

  Niobe, perplexed, took the glasses. She could understand how plain or even homely women could be recruited, just as Mira had been, to be enhanced by illusion to serve the passions of potential recruits—but what was so funny about that? It was, at best, sad.

  She lifted the lorgnette. And gasped.

  There were no young women dancing on the stage. It was a corral of pigs. Genuine swine, rooting about in the muck.

  And Mira's ex-husband had a permanent pass.

  Who says there's no justice in Hell? Atropos thought. I know some men I'd send here!

  Mira sobered enough to recover her bearings. "You're no ordinary prospects!" she said. accusingly. "You knew what this was like—better than I did. Who are you?"

  It was time for truth. They sat down on one of the few clean places on the fence of the sty, and talked. "I am Fate," Niobe said. "I came here to talk to you, and to persuade you—"

  "Fate! An Incarnation!"

  "And this is Gaea, who lent me the lorgnette."

  "Nature! No wonder she doesn't need glasses to see the truth!"

  "We want to persuade you not to do an errand for Satan."

  Mira laughed again, this time mirthlessly. "If Satan wants an errand, I'll do the errand. My soul is already lost!"

  "It's not lost," Gaea said.

  "Don't you understand? I became Staff because I had no soul left to give! They were going to cut me off the food—"

  She put her hand to her mouth, realizing. "Oh!" Gaea gazed intently at her. "Your soul has been corrupted, Elsa Mira, but not that far; there is twenty-four percent good remaining."

  "No! There is none! I used it all up, and—you don't know how addictive unmitigated pleasure is! I just couldn't stop! I—"

  "I do know," Gaea said. "It is my business to know."


  Mira stared at her. "Are you really Nature?"

  "I really am. And my companion really is Fate. We can redirect your thread, if you will cooperate to this extent."

  "I don't believe it! I kept count of every percentage point!"

  Gaea frowned. "You doubt the power of Nature at your peril, woman." She made a gesture—and abruptly the room darkened. Wind swirled. Rain came down, first lightly, then in a pelting torrent. The pigs squealed, enjoying it. In a moment the three of them were soaked.

  Gaea gestured again. The chamber shook. Now the pigs squealed in fright.

  "An earthquake!" Mira screamed. "Let me out of here!"

  Gaea held up her hand. The quaking stopped and the rain vanished. Sunlight streamed warmly down.

  "But we're underground!" Mira protested. "The sun can't shine here!"

  "Your fear is gone." Gaea told her. "You are happy."

  Mira smiled. "I'm happy!" she agreed.

  "Angry," Gaea said.

  Sudden rage twisted the woman's face. "When I think what Satan told me—"

  "Calm."

  And the woman was calm. "I believe you now, Nature. I am amazed at your power, right here in an annex of Hell! Do I really have a quarter of my goodness left?"

  "You really do. You have seen how Satan deceives both the clients and the staff members here. Why shouldn't he also deceive you about the percentage of evil charged to your soul? This is much more efficient for him; he caused you to become a creature of his directives when you did not need to be. You can still go to Heaven, Elsa Mira."

  "No," the woman said sadly. "I'm still seventy-six percent evil, and I have no way to recover my goodness. I'm still addicted to foolish pleasure."

  Again Gaea gestured. "Not any more."

  Mira touched her stomach. "The hunger is gone! I'm not famished!"

  "You will still have to earn your way by proper living and good deeds," Niobe told her. Niobe herself was impressed by the demonstration of Nature's power she had just witnessed; Gaea was indeed the strongest of the Earthly Incarnations. "But that is the only way any person gets to Heaven. God does not grant free passes. You do have time, if you start now."