Cookbook from Hell Reheated

by M. L. Buchman

  The puddle-guy had emerged from the shower and Michelle rummaged around and found him jeans and a t-shirt that had a bust of the man’s own face on it.

  Eric knew it from somewhere. Famous enough to have a t-shirt made of him, but he was dead or he wouldn’t be in Hell. He looked younger than the image, here in Hell as a man in his early forties, as if when he’d died what had been preserved was how the man had seen himself rather than the body he’d actually died in.

  “Plato,” Valerie breathed softly.

  “That’s it!” Eric snapped his fingers and then felt even stupider as Plato observed him with dispassionate curiosity.

  Eric dropped onto a bar stool by an oak-and-cherry kitchen table promising himself that he wouldn’t say another word. Which wasn’t hard. No one seemed to be in a talking mood.

  “A conundrum cannot be contemplated until it is fully voiced.” Plato had changed somehow. Rather than clinging to the core of dignity he’d maintained while working as the demonstration model for the efficacy of full-body slime treatments, he had shifted into a full, confident, professorial tone.

  Still no one spoke.

  So, Eric broke his own vow. Not much risk, he was already in Hell.

  “The Universal Software has gone missing, no trace, stolen. Yet, you appear to still be affected by it.”

  “Ah,” Plato rose and began poking around in the cupboards. He unearthed an unopened tin of cashews, some energy bars in bright foil, a variety of chips and cookies as copious as the collection still scattered on the floor of Valerie’s kitchen.

  “And what leads you to believe these to be mutually exclusive?”

  “Careful,” Michelle was looking at Eric. “The waters here get deep very quickly.”

  Eric decided to risk considering Plato’s question despite her warning.

  “Different layers,” Valerie supplied. “We met the thinking part.”

  “Precisely!” Plato smiled on her like a prize student, opening the cashews with a bright phsst! and offering her the prize of taking the first ones.

  “My experiments left the superficial ‘thinking’ layers behind centuries ago. I have worked my way down deep into the software’s autonomic processing. If you will, I have moved past the mundane brain and have been studying the underlying bodily functions, the software’s equivalent of breathing and having a pulse.”

  Peter declined an offer of cashews and laid his head down on the table. “But that still doesn’t tell us where the software has gone.”

  Eric liked the feel of this old country kitchen. He’d build a similar one someday as the centerpiece of a comfortable home for a family. He already had it mostly designed. A part of him wanted to look over at Valerie, another part of him thought better of it and didn’t.

  Sparkles of light reflected off the waves outside the window and glittered across the copper cookware. Copper was supposed to be a pest to maintain, but it certainly did look great above the great black stove. Some day he would build a place that looked like this. Then he and his mythical whoever could sit around the table with friends and serve superb coffee.

  Michelle was indeed doing something at the large black stove and it started to smell like coffee.

  Who was he kidding with the “mythical” crap? He’d been building fantasies about Valerie Mackenzie since the first time he’d seen her steamrolling down the hall, even if she had been married at the time. All fire and brimstone, all curves and brains. It was easy to imagine being with her.

  What was hard was to picture her being with him, even after the divorce.

  Valerie had chosen to sit opposite him across the table. He hoped it was random chance only. She was slowly turning a salt shaker around and around in her fingers. “Would someone care to enlighten me on the Buddhist Hungry Ghosts?”

  Even though she wasn’t looking at him he felt compelled to answer. To try and help her adjust. The transition had shaken him to the core and created tsunamis of shock and surprise that still rippled up and down his nervous system.

  And he’d been expecting it.

  The shock to Valerie must have been immense and yet she’d remained calm throughout.

  “I don’t know a thing about ghosts, hungry or otherwise. Peter said that must be where the program error sent his evil twin, but it doesn’t mean much to me.”

  Michelle returned from behind the counter with a tray and set five substantial coffee mugs on the table along with some sugar and a pitcher of cream that looked thick enough to stand up a spoon. The coffee pot burbled with promise in the background.

  On the walk down the hill, St. Peter had practically hounded Michelle with some idea about working directly with the code, to which she was adamantly opposed. Peter now leaned with his elbows on the table and his hands cradled around his empty mug as if it were filled to the brim with soul-warming elixir.

  “Our system is linear, for the most part. Birth, life, death, Limbo sorting station to Hell or Purgatory, with the rare soul slotting direct to Heaven. Then work your way up. Occasional reincarnation, though Michelle would know more about that.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

  She declined to comment, so Peter continued.

  “The Buddhist Wheel of Life functions completely differently. It constantly reincarnates a soul, time and time again, until it has learned all of its lessons. Upon enlightenment the soul leaves the wheel and becomes one with the Buddha.”

  “And that’s Buddhist Heaven?” Valerie turned the salt shaker slowly around again.

  Peter shook his head, “No. That’s true enlightenment. Buddhist Heaven as you might imagine it, doesn’t exist. A soul gets reborn differently depending on how it did in its last life. One of the possible reincarnations though, is a false Heaven. If you fail to see that it is all self-indulgence and vanity you probably come back as a snake.”

  “Is a snake as low as you can go?” Eric was starting to remember bits and pieces of this from a comparative religion class in college. “I thought all lives were created equal?” He could hear Michelle behind him cursing at the coffee maker to hurry up. The aroma abruptly filled the air and the burbling sound sped up.

  Peter tried to take a sip from his empty cup, inspected the visible bottom with some surprise and returned it to the wooden table top.

  That actually give Eric some comfort, he’d thought he wasn’t the only one losing it.

  “Supposedly,” Peter still cradled his mug. “You can leave the wheel at any time from any position,” he flicked his fingers outward across his imaginary circle, “by simply gaining true enlightenment. However, if you really mess up you come back as a Hungry Ghost.”

  Valerie’s grimace echoed his feelings. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  Michelle spoke for the first time, she’d been oddly quiet. “That would fit with Ron’s hunger to control the software, something you’ve been struggling with ever since god died.”

  Valerie looked over Eric’s head at Michelle, “How can God be dead? That doesn’t make any sense. After all, he’s God.”

  Eric winced. It had been obvious when Peter had told them the story how much it upset him. He wished Valerie would think a little longer before she asked her questions.

  Peter’s face was white as a sheet, “I wish I knew. I miss him every day.”

  “I’m sorry, Peter, but I truly don’t understand.”

  Michelle brought the large pot of coffee to the table and poured their mugs full. “god was not what the universe revolved around. Like me, he was simply a programmer. Fortunately for us all, he was also an artist.”

  The sound of loss in her voice filled the room.

  “But how did it all start?”

  Michelle contemplated her for a long moment.

  “Well, that’s a whole other story.” She settled deeper into her chair and sipped her coffee. “It’s not one of my fonder memories. Peo
ple are always telling me stories about the cute first things they remember, getting a puppy at age three, being fed to a lion, whatever. Something at least unusual. The first thing I remember was a door…”

  Another Time

  Light shone into the otherwise complete darkness from two sources. The first, behind her, cast her shadow onto a rectangle of light on the otherwise featureless floor in front of her. The second streamed from a doorway facing hers, that silhouetted another person.

  Her eyes adjusted and she could make out that they stood upon opposite edges of a great, circular platform several dozen strides across, each entering from a glaring doorway. In the middle stood two desks, each with a computer console on its surface.

  As she stepped forward onto the dark floor, the light behind her began to fade. She turned barely in time to see it disappear completely. A door slamming shut. She flinched at the finality of the act, then she reached out to touch the doorknob.

  Emptiness.

  Nothing lay beyond the edge of the platform.

  Looking outward, black spots floated before her eyes. Only void and darkness were upon the face of the deep. If she stepped off the edge, she’d fall forever.

  She turned toward the center of the platform, back to face the other figure. Their door had closed as well. The only light was now a glow emanating from the great disk on which they stood, as if the surface were transparent and a languid sea of light shifted slowly back and forth within its depths. By its glow she could see her companion, an average-height man, average-build, tending toward the rotund, and hair starting to gray. Nothing exceptional about him at all.

  She looked down at herself. Even without anyone to compare to, she knew she was looking at something way better than average. With a body like this she could do some serious damage, and have a lot of fun along the way.

  “Where did you come from?” she called across to him.

  He looked down into the lighted disk that was their floor. “I don’t know.”

  If his voice held concern, she could detect no note of it.

  “How about you?”

  She thought for a moment, then she thought some more. And a bit more. She didn’t know either. Not a good feeling. It was a feeling she’d gladly trade in for… She couldn’t think of anything. She knew she stood on a disk across from a man, each in front of a computer, but when she thought of herself, all she found was a blank slate.

  They had been cut off from their past, fully grown with no memories. It didn’t seem right, something was missing. Sure, no one remembered their own birth, but this was ridiculous.

  He knelt and rapped the floor lightly with his knuckles. A hollow ringing filled the air out of all proportion to the gentleness of the tap. The sound and vibrations coursing up through the soles of her sandaled feet were as if he’d struck some great bell with a massive hammer. The vibration settled only slowly, as if infinite potential were trapped within the disk waiting for release.

  Rising to his feet he walked over to one of the desks. He wore a plain white, button-down shirt, khaki slacks, and scuffed loafers with too-white socks.

  Looking down at herself again, she saw a fine linen shirt of bright blue, and dark jeans. Unpainted toenails emerged past fine-tooled leather sandal straps. It was a look that felt as if she’d chosen it intentionally. Casual, comfortable, top-quality.

  The man set his hand on a white glass plate next to the screen.

  “I don’t understand. Nothing happened.”

  “What? You thought you were going to fill the void?” She tried not to look at the darkness that surrounded their disk in all directions, it was a bit unnerving. She walked to the desk that faced her. The computer terminal had been formed all as one piece, deeper than it was wide. A keyboard stuck out the front, the built-in screen was black with apple-green letters.

  Place hand on plate to initialize system.

  She did so to no effect. “Maybe if we do it together?”

  They sat, facing each other, and placed their right hands, though it felt awkward—perhaps she was left-handed—on the white plates simultaneously. A huge burst of light flashed from everywhere at once. She ducked her head and shielded her eyes. Once they adjusted, she could see nothing but light. Light everywhere there had been darkness before. The only break in the glare were the two computer terminals and the two of them. Even the desks were translucent.

  “Oh my. Never have I seen such beauty!” The man’s voice was filled with awe. Standing slowly he spread his arms wide as if to hold it.

  It shone all around them. It glittered and pulsed through the great floor as well. But now she could see that the disk truly was clear. Completely clear. She could now see…forever. At least that’s how it looked. The light spread outward in a great wave that rushed into the darkness.

  She carefully tapped a toe, but the platform remained solid beneath her feet, even if it was invisible in the all-encompassing light. The man’s footsteps rang as he danced, perhaps cavorted was a better qualifier, surrounded by the light. She almost warned him as he moved too close to where the edge must still be, but his dance turned and brought him in a great circle around their desks and back to his chair. The white hand-plates they had touched were simple plastic, connected to the consoles with a small wire. The computer couldn’t have done this on its own. He must have done it.

  His mumbling about the lightshow being the most glorious vision that had ever come to him confirmed the fact. She forced herself to look down between her sandals and into the light beyond the floor. At the great globe of light for which they were the center. “Glorious” wasn’t a bad word for it. Though “scary as Hell” came to mind right alongside it.

  With such ability to create he must know something more, “Can you remember anything of the past?”

  Again he paused, “Nope, not a thing.” Leaning forward he rested his hand on hers. His touch was warm and gentle. “But that doesn’t make it any less wonderful,” he smiled brightly. Whether at her or the light she couldn’t be sure.

  He waved an arm upward and nearly swiped her console off the desk, “No, fantastic is a better word, or perhaps miraculous.” He returned to his screen as if eager to do something else. She read the lines of green text scrolling up the screen on her own terminal.

  System startup initiated.

  Universe now available for configuration.

  You have the ability to modify and remove items within system.

  You are hereby designated as, ‘The Devil’.

  “What are you?”

  His smile was huge as he read the words on his screen.

  “I’m God. What fun. It would seem I have been blessed with the powers of creation.” He tapped a few keys, “This is simply amazing.”

  “Why does he get to be God?” she typed into the terminal.

  He tried to palm in first, so man gets precedence.

  “You mean ‘the man,’ don’t you?”

  Leave me alone, I’m busy creating the universe.

  So, she was the Devil. If this was a sign of her luck, she’d rather have no luck at all.

  The light shimmered as if it were a beacon of hope. How did he do that? He continued tapping away at his console.

  The light swirled itself into brilliant balls of fire which then compressed into stars. He spread them randomly throughout the space around them. That was very nice until he began smashing them into each other.

  She shook her head and tried not to smile. How like a man to build something this incredible and immediately start busting it all up as a game. Typing a few commands herself she formed the stars into neat, well-organized galaxies.

  He shattered a few of them.

  She wanted to slap his hands away from the keyboard, but the few mangled ones emphasized and enhanced the symmetry of all the others, now racing away from them into the night until they spangled the H
eavens.

  She could make changes, but he could make art.

  Of course, there was nothing to stop her from trying, the universe was still mostly a blank slate. She leaned forward in her chair as she formulated the command to create a new shape out of the darkness itself, since he had used all of the light to make the stars and those were too pretty to mess with.

  Invalid command. The Devil has insufficient system rights to perform creation operations.

  “Great!” She typed in, pounding the keys hard as she did so. “Are you telling me I can’t create squat? All I can do is shape his creations?” The console didn’t respond. “Hey, God. How about if we work together on this universe?”

  He kept tapping his keyboard and glancing to see what he’d just created. Tiny globules of matter that had spun off from the stars were collecting into spinning orbs whirling around the stars.

  She stood and stretched before going around to casually glance over his shoulder.

  Scatter range of visible spectrum across star colors, emphasis on white, blue, and red.

  The computer responded with a simple, Done.

  The stars shifted from all white to a breathtaking array of colors. The blue was almost a crystalline white but sharper, clearer. The red shone deep and ruddy.

  Absolutely stunning. She looked at him to see if his appearance had changed, if there was some outward sign of such talent. People with artistic vision were intimidating, she would never have thought to do such a thing.

  God kept typing, no different from when she’d first seen him minutes ago. A glass of wine appeared by his hand. Taking a sip, he glanced at the Heavens.

  She poked him lightly on the arm. “How about we take a break and talk over what to do? If we could simply…”

  “What I need next is…” he talked right over her, “water. Yes. That would be a good. All this light would look nice reflecting off it and refracting too.” He set his glass on the desk and resumed typing.