with long curling lashes and magnificently arched black brows. As Maggie looked into this dark woman’s eyes, she fleetingly pictured a deep, bottomless well. “I’m Lucy,” the dark woman said.
“She already knows that,” the woman in white said gently but firmly to her neighbor. Then she turned to Maggie. “And I’m Angela.”
Maggie took a seat at the table, and crossed her legs in a businesslike fashion. “How do you do. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, would one of you two ladies tell me what this is all about?”
“Yes, yes,” the one called Lucy said. “You see, you’ve presented us with a considerable problem.”
“I’m afraid Lucy’s right,” Angela said. “A considerable problem.” She checked the computer monitor at her elbow, pressed a few keys and continued. “Most people are easy. One or two keystrokes, a peek at their history and the decision’s made. Actually, we’re going to introduce a system whereby the computer actually makes most of the decisions. Very straightforward. Usually.”
Maggie looked at the two women, so different, yet unconsciously mimicking each other’s motions. Patience, she told herself. I will understand this eventually.
“You, on the other hand,” Lucy said, clicking a few keys on her own console, “are a real dilemma.”
“I’m really sorry about that,” Maggie said, having no idea what was going on but willing herself to play along with this dream or hallucination or whatever it was.
“No, dear,” Angela said, “it’s not a hallucination either.”
“No, no, of course not.” Lucy turned to Angela. “I told you that the mist might be misunderstood. But no, you had to add it. ‘Gives the place an ethereal air,’ you said.” Lucy grumbled, “Now you see? It just adds to the natural confusion.”
“It might help if you’d begin,” Maggie said, “by telling me where we are. That might end some of the confusion.”
“That’s a bit hard to explain right off,” Angela said.
“Well, why don’t you try,” Maggie snapped, beginning to get a bit impatient despite all her best efforts.
“You won’t believe it,” Angela continued, shaking her head.
“Just get on with it, Angela,” Lucy snapped. “Oh, never mind. Look, honey,” she said, staring at Maggie, “you’re dead.”
“I’m what?” Maggie shrieked, jumping up from her seat.
“Lucy, don’t do that,” Angela said. “It just scares people unnecessarily. You have to break these things to them gently. How many times have I told you?”
“If you had it your way,” Lucy said, “we’d be here for hours, breaking the news so gently that I’d starve.”
“Ladies!” Maggie yelled. “Could you please stop arguing and just tell me what’s going on.”
“Of course, dear,” Angela said. “Now sit back down and try to open your mind to new experiences.”
Maggie dropped into the chair, her wobbly legs suddenly unable to hold her weight.
“Actually,” Angela said, “although she said it crudely, Lucy is right. You are dead. You died quietly in your sleep of a massive heart attack.”
Maggie tried to grasp what she was being told. “I did what?”
“It’s always hardest to understand,” Angela continued, “when you’ve had no warning. The chronically ill. They understand. They’ve been expecting it. But you. You appeared to be in perfect health.”
“But your coronary arteries,” Lucy said. “Shot. Too many french fries and rare steaks.” She gazed at the ceiling. “Actually, right now, a thick sirloin with a baked stuffed potato….”
“Dead?” Maggie whispered, unable to make any louder sound come out of her mouth. “I’m dead? Really, truly forever dead?”
“I’m afraid so, dear,” Angela said. “Remember that pain right here?” She pointed to her breastbone. “Just before you went to bed that night?”
Numbly, Maggie nodded.
“Well,” Lucy said, then snapped her fingers loudly. “That was the beginning of the end.”
“But,” Angela said, “being dead is not bad. Really.”
“Dead,” Maggie muttered. “And what is this place?”
“We call it the computer room. It’s kind of a decision station,” Angela said. “You know, up or down.” She motioned with her thumb.
“You mean heaven, hell, that sort of thing?”
“Exactly,” Lucy said.
“I’m finding all this a bit hard to believe,” Maggie said.
“I can understand that,” Angela said. “But I think we can convince you.” Angela stood up and turned her back to Maggie. Two glittering white wings extended from her shoulderblades through an opening in her gown. “Angela, angel, you get it. Right?” The wings quivered and Angela rose about five feet, then gracefully settled back down.
Lucy stood up and turned. The tight black catsuit had a small opening just above her buttocks, through which a long sinuous black tail extended. “Lucy, Lucifer. Okay?” She extended her index finger and a narrow shaft of flame shot out, then, as quickly, was extinguished.
“Shit,” Maggie hissed.
“Don’t curse,” Angela said.
“Let her say what she wants,” Lucy snapped. “After all, it’s her life, or death, as it were.”
Slowly, Maggie was starting to accept the unacceptable. “Does everyone come through here? And what happens now? Do I meet someone like Mr. Jordan in that movie with Warren Beatty?”
“Ah, yes, Heaven Can Wait. That movie has led to more misunderstandings than anything in the last fifty years,” Lucy said. “People expect some kindly old gentleman, a mixture of God, Santa Claus, and James Mason. Nope. No one like that. Just us.”
“Actually,” Angela said, “very few people get to see us at all.” She clicked a few keys on her computer keyboard, then continued. “It’s usually very easy. People die and the decision’s already made. Good, bad, up, down. It’s usually pretty straightforward.”
“But, as we told you before,” Lucy said, “you are a problem.”
“Really,” Maggie said dryly, staring at the two women clicking away at their terminals.
“We have a decision to make here that will affect you for all eternity,” the women said in unison. “Heaven,” Angela said. “Or hell,” Lucy added.
“And what’s it like,” Maggie asked, looking into Lucy’s deep black eyes, “down there? Is it like the movies, all fire and
