March 2, 1996
Day one in hell
The first thing I noticed about hell was that it was very Italian. I don’t know how else to put it. A lot of people seemed like they’d been there a while. Take Dimitri. He was the first person I met when I got to my flat at the embassy. Of course we had air conditioning, but there’s only so much de-hellifying you can do. Every time I left the building I was staying in, I saw Dimitri standing on the corner. He was a tall man with slender features, always either posing, or sometimes juggling. Something about him reminded me of Michelangelo’s marble sculptures. I assumed he was a mime of some kind. One day, as I was coming back from one of my tour groups, I approached the man.
“Can’t talk now, very busy.” He said as he continued posing. I stared off in the direction he was facing, back at him. This went on for about a minute. He looked back at me. “Do you have cotton in your ears?”
“No but I think the constant screaming is making it kind of hard to hear.”
“Welcome to Hell. It doesn’t get easier.”
But that’s not the only example of the Italian-ness I’m trying to get across. On my visit to the First Circle, which really just felt like Utah, I noticed a crowd of people forming. Up until that point, the only people around were solitary trudgers. When I got closer to see what the rendezvous was about, I saw a bald man standing on a wooden stage. He seemed to be holding a council of some kind.
“We have been punished for not following God! But since we are in the first level, we are still superior to all those beneath us…”
It’s just the way he was gesticulating. And the way their faces looked. Do you know how a face can seem old? Not wrinkled old, but like from another time? That’s just it. Most of the faces just seemed older, like from the Renaissance. But if you try to ask anyone in the First Circle a question, they just kind of stare at you and slowly fade away.
Of course, I can’t exactly tell what language they speak, since in Hell all languages become uniform. It’s a small convenience you wouldn’t expect, you know?
March 9, 1996 Day Seven in hell
I had the strangest encounter today. Chiron’s wedding was happening and I wanted to grab a couple of leaves to adorn the occasion. Not that anything really grew down here, but there were some bushes filled with black leaves. I grabbed a handful of stems.
“Ow!” I heard. I looked around.
“Down here!” The bush was speaking to me.
“Oh crap. Sorry.” I said.
“What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? Do you have that little compassion for living things? Are you that flippant about the sanctity of life? Are you that selfish? Are you that horribly, horribly selfish?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” I said, desperately trying to fix my tracks.
“Oh you don’t know? So you’re ignorant as well as selfish? Are you a criminal too? You thief! You castrater! You might as well be a murderer too! Why don’t we just add that to the list! I’m sure you’ll kill somebody in cold blood someday, if you haven’t already! I can just see, you’re a worthless person. Worthless, despicable. You disgust me.”
I had to exit the situation at this point, because I knew there was no bringing this bush around to my point of view.
March 14, 1996 Day Twelve in hell
Finally, we approached a giant golden door. Muffled screaming was heard from the other side.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking out my notepad.
“Oh. This is the worst of the worst. Suicide committers.”
Chiron opened the door. There was a man, His wrists and ankles chained to the walls, roasting over an open fire.
“Please, please!” He cried. “Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“Silence!” Chiron shouted, and threw a bucket of hot water on the coals.
“Jeez,” I protested when we’d left, “so his punishment for being miserable on earth is being even more miserable in hell?”
“That’s right” Chiron said. Ultimately, in Hell, you just have to shrug these things off and keep walking.