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gloomy. “And to take revenge on those who had the opportunity to seek God’s grace and rejected it or were too stupid or greedy to recognize what they had lost.” He gestured.
    I saw a sweep of broad, pleasant fields, with green trees in them. An idyllic rural scene. Even the light was warmer and brighter here, although again there was no sense of that light emanating from any particular direction.
    It could have been spring. Seated or standing in the fields, like small herds of cattle, dressed in shreds of fabric, were groups of people. Their skins were rough, scabrous, unclean. Their motion through the fields was sluggish, bovine. Yet these poor souls were by no means contented.
    I realised that, although the shape of the bodies varied, every face was absolutely identical.
    Every face was lined by the same in-turned madness and greed, the same pouched expression of utter selfishness. The creatures mumbled at one another, each monologue the same, as they wandered round and round the fields.
    The whined complaints began very quickly to fill me with immense irritation. I could feel no charity for them.
    “Every single one of those souls is a universe of self-involvement,” said Lucifer.
    “And yet they are identical,” I said.
    “Just so. They are alike in the smallest detail. Yet not one of those men or women there can allow himself to recognize the fact. The closer they get to the core of the self, the more they become like the others.” He turned to look sardonically down at me. “Is this more what you expected of Hell, captain?”
    “Yes. I think so.”
    “Every one of these when on Earth spoke of Free Will, of loyalty to one’s own needs. Of the importance of controlling one’s own destiny. Every one believed himself to be master of his fate. And they had only one yardstick, of course: material well-being. It is all that is possible when one discounts one’s involvement with the rest of humanity.”
    I looked hard at those identical faces. “Is this a specific warning to me?” I asked Lucifer. “I should have thought you would be attempting to make Hell seem more attractive to me.”
    “And why is that?”
    I did not reply. I was too afraid to answer.
    “Would you enjoy the prospect of being in my charge, Captain von Bek?” Lucifer asked me.
    “I would not,” I told him, “for on Earth, at least, one can pretend to Free Will. Here, of course, all choice is denied you,”
    “And in Heaven one can actually possess Free Will,” said Lucifer.
    “In spite of Heaven’s ruler?” I said. “It would seem to me that He demands a great deal of His creatures.”
    “I am no priestly interpreter,” said Lucifer, “but it has been argued God demands only that men and women should demand much of themselves.”
    The fields were behind us now. “I, on the other hand,” continued the Prince of Darkness, “expect nothing of humanity, save confirmation that it is worthless. I am disposed to despise it, to use it, to exploit its weakness. Or so it was in the beginning of my reign.”
    “You speak as one who saw all humanity as His rival. I should not have believed an angel—albeit a fallen one—to admit to such pettiness.”
    “That rage, I still recall it. That rage did not seem petty to me, Captain von Bek.”
    “You have changed, Your Majesty?”
    “I told you that I had, captain.”
    “You are frustrated, then, that you have failed to convince God of this?”
    “Just so. Because God cannot hear me.”
    “Are you certain of that, Your Majesty?”
    “I am certain of nothing. But I understand it to be the truth.”
    I felt almost sorry for this great being, this most defiant of all creatures, having come to a point where He was willing to admit to His defeat, and there being no one to acknowledge or perhaps to believe His admission.
    “I am weary of the Earth and still more weary of Hell, captain. I yearn for my position in Heaven.”
    “But if Your Majesty is truly repentant …”
    “It must