And then he died.

The first surprise was that he was capable of surprise. Donald Sunder had always assumed that when you died, really, that was all there was to it. Well, to put it more correctly, he'd always hoped that was the case. If some part of you continued after you died, Sunder had reasoned, then that would probably mean God existed and, if God existed, then he was up a part of shit creek where nobody had ever even heard of a paddle.

Sunder's last word: "Whoops."

Sunder's first thought after his last word: "Whoops."

As far as his eye could see, there were people standing in a long line, winding back and forth until the line itself disappeared in the distance.

He looked behind him and could see nothing. Literally nothing. No clouds, no hills, nothing discernable at all. A woman appeared behind him. She was a darker brown than Sunder, wrapped in a bright red and green sari. A red circle glittered just above and between her eyebrows. A slight smile creased her face.

Turning back toward the front, Sunder found himself taking another step forward. Halfway through, he tried to jerk his left leg back, but no luck. He could only move forward in line. Sunder tried turning to the left, tried turning to the right, tried a pirouette. Nothing worked. Finally, in desperation, he tried to throw himself to the--for lack of a better word--ground. He took another step forward. A tall, gangly white man, wearing cut-off blue jean shorts and a tie-dyed tank top had been standing behind the sari woman all along.

The man in front of Sunder, the blackest man he had ever seen, shot the cuffs of his dark blue Seville Row, three-piece suit. The man turned around, smiled and nodded to Sunder, and offered him a small slip of paper. Without thinking about it, Sunder reached out and took the paper. He took another step forward.

The paper read:

Don't bother trying to get out of line. It's not going to happen. Welcome to Heaven. Yes, Heaven. You shouldn't relax just yet, however. Each person, no matter their final destination, will receive an audience with the All Father. For those joining the Heavenly Host, it will serve as a preview of the eternal paradise that awaits them. Those consigned to the Pits of Perdition, will face the fires with only the memory of the Lord to comfort them. Your audience will consist of one Question and one Answer. Don't blow it.
BTW, talking is out too, so save your breath for your Question.

To say that Sunder was less than pleased would be understatement akin to saying the heart of a nuclear explosion was 'a little tepid.' Sunder, even by his own reckonings, had not lived a good life. He took another step forward. He looked up and realized he could now see the beginnings of the line. His destination seemed to be a pearly, white sphere of radiance. He shook his head and took another step forward.

Sunder had drifted through life, doing as little as possible to get by. A little larceny here, a little graft there. Whatever it took. He developed a rather loose definition of personal property. "It's now my property, but don't take it personal," he told one victim. Once he discovered Upload, however, the drug opened whole new depths into which he could sink.

He took another step forward.

He had gravitated into a duet, specializing in card rips. Sunder and his partner would pick a likely victim and liberate the vic's credit. Sunder found he had an aptitude for torturing PIN codes from the mark in the shortest time possible. Using a stolen cell phone, he would call his pard, who would extract all the cash from the account and then dump the card.

He took another step forward.

Upload consumed his every waking moment. One of the new designer drugs, based on some findings from the Human Genome Project, Upload targeted specific neural receptors in the more primitive sections of the brain. It allowed the user to, in effect, upload the experiences of his far, far, far distant ancestors. Up, Sunder roamed the sun-lit savannas of pre-historic Africa. In real, he prowled the neon-lit jungle. He took another step forward.

All his life, Sunder was consumed by predator thoughts. The quickest way to catch the prey. Now, Sunder reasoned, he needed to think like prey. Delay the inevitable. He was going down hard. He knew that. The only question was when. He needed a Question. He needed a long, long Answer.

He took another step forward.

The end of the line was very close now. He took another step forward. Business suit stepped forward into the light.

"Why," Sunder heard the man say, "is there pain?"

WITHOUT PAIN, HOW WOULD YOU KNOW JOY?

Sunder stepped forward, licked his lips and laid his afterlife on the line. At first, he tried to stay silent, but something forced him to speak.

"Why?" Sunder asked. At first, there was no answer. Sunder felt elation. He'd done it. He'd earned more time. He'd....

BECAUSE.

Sunder stepped forward. And fell into the flames.