As he walked through the flames, trying to check in, the man wondered, What did I do to deserve this? He was in Hell, a place he didn’t believe existed until now. While he couldn’t think of a reason as to why he would be there, God and the Devil both knew all too well the reasons he was there. In life, the man was an atheist, a hater of the concept of God and religion. He repeated mantras and arguments heard on his favorite podcasts to the people he argued with online. As he walked, he felt a burning sensation on his feet; his shoes had disappeared. His clothes had been somewhat protecting him from being burned, even though he was still very hot from the fire blazing around him. He hopped between feet to try and keep them from burning too much when he saw a river of lava, flowing relatively slowly. There was a person in the lava, or at least there used to be; as he saw it, was just bones in a T-shirt. I wonder what he did, the man thought to himself. Maybe he murdered someone. The man noticed his pants were starting to catch fire, and the very things that protected his legs from the fire were now burning them. He cried out in agony. I didn’t murder anyone, I never did wrong, the man thought, trying to find a reason why he would be in such a horrible place. An image flashed before him; it was a man who looked like himself, sitting at a computer and chuckling. “Is that me?” he asked aloud to no one. “Yes, that is you,” a loud, deep voice replied. “Now hurry up, I don’t have all day.” The man continued walking in the direction he was going, not even knowing if it was the correct direction. The man came across another person for the first time since his arrival. It was a man hanging from a medieval-style gallows, but his eyes were open and moving. “Hello?” the man asked, as more of a test rather than a greeting. “Hello. You’re new, I assume,” the hanged man replied. “Yeah, I just got here,” the man replied, still hopping from foot to foot. “How long have you been up there?” “Since 2006,” the hanged man replied with a sigh. “Why are you down here; you seem like a normal old man,” he asked, looking up at the elderly man dangling from the rope. “Well, it’s a long story. When you get to reception, ask the Devil if you can use a computer and Google John Money; that’s my name. That will tell you all that you need to know,” the hanged man explained. “Go on now; you gotta check in.” The man turned and continued walking. He noticed a warm sensation around his mid-section and looked down. “Oh yeah, my clothes are on fire,” he remarked. As he looked up, he saw a giant, red building that looked like it was made of magma and was comically oversized compared to himself. It read “RECEPTION” in big, pink lettering above the door. “I guess I’m here,” the man said as he walked up to the door and opened it. As the door opened, he saw a giant reception desk about ten feet tall, and an even bigger red figure with giant black horns. “Welcome, my name is Satan, or, as I am also called, the Devil.” the beast, whose voice the man recognized from earlier, said with a grin. “May I have your name?” Satan asked. “Michael,” the man replied, assuming that the Devil already knew his last name. “Ah, there you are. It’s funny; you’re named after an archangel and now you’re down here.” the Devil said as he looked at a giant CRT monitor. “You don’t know how many times I get to say that,” he laughed. “What am I here for?” Michael asked, still not knowing anything he could have done. “Well, you were an atheist, so that’s a big one. It also says here that you…” Satan said as he squinted at the screen, “donated to and defended e-girls. That’s a yikes from me, chief,” the Devil said with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine being that beta.” Is that really what sent me here? Michael thought to himself. After some contemplation, he asked the Devil. “May I use a computer?”