Vicky was a Viking,
one as brave as brave could be.
On land she was a legend,
but she didn't like the sea.
Boats made Vicky queasy
and the waves made her feel yuck.
She'd rather not go
...
[+]
Behind the Door was a casino out of time. It stood on pillars of brown marble in lines stretching far past the horizon. An infinite array of chandeliers spilled their warm, artificial light across the carpeted floor. Its patrons did not age and there was only one rule: You entered only once, stayed as long as you pleased, and left with what you made for yourself, be it debt or riches.
Cyrus considered himself a gambling man, someone who could outsmart dice. Had you asked him before his losing streak days ago, he'd have said that he had won the heart of Lady Luck herself. Now, six months after he had found the Door, he might tell you that Lady Luck plays hard to get.
Cyrus sat in a makeshift theatre, made of roulette tables and chairs piled into an arc surrounding a glimmering slot machine, attended by a grey-bearded man, who everyone called Old Man Jim. He spun for hours on end, becoming a legend for winning the jackpot so many times in a row that everyone had lost count. People gathered with beer and cigars to watch when he'd finally lose this game he loved so much.
Another jackpot. Coins rushed from the machine as Old Man Jim reached for the lever again. Cyrus took a gulp of his beer, and as he looked back down, he found someone sitting by him: A boy, clothed in a pristine white suit and silvery hair, wearing a face too beautiful to have been from here, his eyes a color that escaped your mind right as you found the words for it.
"Hi! Cyrus, right?" The Angel asked. His voice was sweet, gentle, detached from the mire and filth. "Would you like to play a game with me?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "How the hell do you know my name?" Cyrus questioned. "Pfft. Lucky guess." the Angel giggled. Cyrus took another sip. "Rules?" Cyrus asked. "Simple." the Angel replied, fetching a pearl from his coat pocket, "We roll this die. White, you win. Red, you lose."
Cyrus eyeballed the "die", perplexed. A single, almost infinitesimal red dot sat on its apparently curved surface. "That's a die?" Cyrus stared at the Angel in disbelief. "A googolplex sided die, to be specific. Sorry, I realise it isn't standard." the Angel explained, "Wanna hold it?" The Angel held the die out. Cyrus cautiously fished it out of his hand, trying to feel for its imperceptible edges.
"How many red faces?"
"Just the one."
"How much to play?"
"How much do you have?"
Cyrus scowled, downing another mouthful of beer as lights flashed and coins fell in the background, "I'm down twenty thousand. You tell me." The Angel frowned. "Well, that's no fun. Here." the Angel clasped Cyrus' free hand, flipping it over to reveal a coin, "Just a dollar will do." Cyrus, increasingly perplexed, handed the dollar back to the Angel, who was beaming with childlike pride.
"And what do I get if I win?"
"Everything! Your debts, paid. You leave with enough cash to never worry again. And," the Angel leaned in conspiratiorially, "I'll put in a good word for you at the pearly gates."
"What?"
"Yes. I mean it."
Cyrus squinted at the Angel, searching for any sign of deceit. None, the Angel looked as sincere as could be.
"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Oh, please. I literally couldn't lie to you if I tried. Watch: Your name is Cyrus. You are" -the Angel paused, working something out of his throat- "28 years old. You came from Asia, where you have a wife who lo- A wife who lov..." -he choked on his words- "Sorry. I was confident about that one." Cyrus scoffed, "Tactful, aren't you?" The Angel ignored him, "You get my point." Cyrus rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with this character.
"Alright, I believe you. What happens if I lose, then?"
"Hell."
"Say again?"
"Hell. Fire and brimstone. Eternal torment. You've heard of it."
"Red dot, and I go to hell?"
"Precisely."
The metallic clanging of coins started up again. "Is this some kind of joke?" Cyrus blurted out. "Look, Cyrus, think about this. Do you know how much a googolplex is? It's incomprehensibly large. You'd die a million trillion times over before writing out even 1% of the zeroes in it, and all but one of those faces gets you everything you want, everything you could ever possibly want. You understand, right?" The Angel stopped to let the fact sit in, "Plus, you've paid already."
Cyrus contemplated. "This dice, is it rigged?" he interrogated. "Totally fair. Test it yourself." the Angel assured him. He rolled. White. White. White again. He rolled till he felt certain.
"And you really mean everything you say?"
"As much as one could."
"What are you getting out of this?"
"Do you really care?"
Cyrus sighed. He loosened his shoulders and stretched his arms. "Oh, what the hell. It's a no brainer, just like you said, isn't it?" Cyrus said aloud, trying to convince himself. The Angel said nothing, looking on expectantly.
"Alright, I'm ready." Cyrus finally said. The Angel smiled, "Well, Cyrus. I wish you all the best. You may roll." Cyrus took one last breath, and rolled.
Red.
Their eyes widened, one with wonder, the other with horror. The Angel gleamed with excitement, before bursting into laughter, "Goodness, it actually happened! Did you see that? It's red! You rolled red!" The Angel cackled in amusement, turning a head or two.
"What... The f***... did you just do to me?" Cyrus' breath shook. The Angel's laughter finally died down, and he replied, "You played, and you lost. Simple as." Cyrus grabbed the Angel by his coat, yanking him face to face with himself, "You said it was one in a googolplex. One in 10 to the-"
"-10 to the 10 to the 100, yes." the Angel piped in. "And you told me I could trust you. So why..." -Cyrus interrupted himself, hyperventilating between words- "why the F*** is it red?"
The Angel shrugged, "I played a finite game against infinity. I was always going to win, Cyrus. I didn't guess that you would lose."
His breath had become too fast. Cyrus collapsed to the floor, releasing his grip on the Angel. The Angel rose from his seat, bidding his farewell, "Well. It was fun playing with you, Cyrus. I'll be seeing you around." Cyrus snapped back to reality and yelled, "Wait! You can't just go! What do I do?" The Angel stopped, pondering. "You don't leave. Hell will take you one day, but as long as you're here, they don't have you yet."
"So that's it?! I'm trapped here, forever?" Cyrus screamed at the Angel. The Angel sighed dejectedly, "Oh, I wish. It's always the same with your lot and infinity. No matter what, there'll be a day you walk out of that door. Hell, you'd probably go willingly, trading one eternity for another just for a change of scenery." Cyrus heaved over the floor, ready to vomit as the Angel turned to leave.
"You'll be surprised, Cyrus. You and I are going to be great friends one day. We've more than enough time to get acquainted."
"What the hell do you know?"
The Angel stopped as the slot machine flared up once more.
"I know that time corrodes you. Give it long enough, maybe not even a decade, and you'll forget who you were today. And then, when the world disappears and reshapes, you'll cling to anything, even if it twists up your guts, so long as it lasts forever, just to feel like you haven't been walking so long."
Cyrus gasped for air. His eyes darted around the casino. He saw the Door, still leading to the very same back alley where it found him. He looked back to the Angel, who was finally making his exit.
"I also know this. A billion jackpots ago," -the Angel started, but he was interrupted as the noise from the slot machine rang once more- "Jim hated slots."
Cyrus considered himself a gambling man, someone who could outsmart dice. Had you asked him before his losing streak days ago, he'd have said that he had won the heart of Lady Luck herself. Now, six months after he had found the Door, he might tell you that Lady Luck plays hard to get.
Cyrus sat in a makeshift theatre, made of roulette tables and chairs piled into an arc surrounding a glimmering slot machine, attended by a grey-bearded man, who everyone called Old Man Jim. He spun for hours on end, becoming a legend for winning the jackpot so many times in a row that everyone had lost count. People gathered with beer and cigars to watch when he'd finally lose this game he loved so much.
Another jackpot. Coins rushed from the machine as Old Man Jim reached for the lever again. Cyrus took a gulp of his beer, and as he looked back down, he found someone sitting by him: A boy, clothed in a pristine white suit and silvery hair, wearing a face too beautiful to have been from here, his eyes a color that escaped your mind right as you found the words for it.
"Hi! Cyrus, right?" The Angel asked. His voice was sweet, gentle, detached from the mire and filth. "Would you like to play a game with me?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "How the hell do you know my name?" Cyrus questioned. "Pfft. Lucky guess." the Angel giggled. Cyrus took another sip. "Rules?" Cyrus asked. "Simple." the Angel replied, fetching a pearl from his coat pocket, "We roll this die. White, you win. Red, you lose."
Cyrus eyeballed the "die", perplexed. A single, almost infinitesimal red dot sat on its apparently curved surface. "That's a die?" Cyrus stared at the Angel in disbelief. "A googolplex sided die, to be specific. Sorry, I realise it isn't standard." the Angel explained, "Wanna hold it?" The Angel held the die out. Cyrus cautiously fished it out of his hand, trying to feel for its imperceptible edges.
"How many red faces?"
"Just the one."
"How much to play?"
"How much do you have?"
Cyrus scowled, downing another mouthful of beer as lights flashed and coins fell in the background, "I'm down twenty thousand. You tell me." The Angel frowned. "Well, that's no fun. Here." the Angel clasped Cyrus' free hand, flipping it over to reveal a coin, "Just a dollar will do." Cyrus, increasingly perplexed, handed the dollar back to the Angel, who was beaming with childlike pride.
"And what do I get if I win?"
"Everything! Your debts, paid. You leave with enough cash to never worry again. And," the Angel leaned in conspiratiorially, "I'll put in a good word for you at the pearly gates."
"What?"
"Yes. I mean it."
Cyrus squinted at the Angel, searching for any sign of deceit. None, the Angel looked as sincere as could be.
"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Oh, please. I literally couldn't lie to you if I tried. Watch: Your name is Cyrus. You are" -the Angel paused, working something out of his throat- "28 years old. You came from Asia, where you have a wife who lo- A wife who lov..." -he choked on his words- "Sorry. I was confident about that one." Cyrus scoffed, "Tactful, aren't you?" The Angel ignored him, "You get my point." Cyrus rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with this character.
"Alright, I believe you. What happens if I lose, then?"
"Hell."
"Say again?"
"Hell. Fire and brimstone. Eternal torment. You've heard of it."
"Red dot, and I go to hell?"
"Precisely."
The metallic clanging of coins started up again. "Is this some kind of joke?" Cyrus blurted out. "Look, Cyrus, think about this. Do you know how much a googolplex is? It's incomprehensibly large. You'd die a million trillion times over before writing out even 1% of the zeroes in it, and all but one of those faces gets you everything you want, everything you could ever possibly want. You understand, right?" The Angel stopped to let the fact sit in, "Plus, you've paid already."
Cyrus contemplated. "This dice, is it rigged?" he interrogated. "Totally fair. Test it yourself." the Angel assured him. He rolled. White. White. White again. He rolled till he felt certain.
"And you really mean everything you say?"
"As much as one could."
"What are you getting out of this?"
"Do you really care?"
Cyrus sighed. He loosened his shoulders and stretched his arms. "Oh, what the hell. It's a no brainer, just like you said, isn't it?" Cyrus said aloud, trying to convince himself. The Angel said nothing, looking on expectantly.
"Alright, I'm ready." Cyrus finally said. The Angel smiled, "Well, Cyrus. I wish you all the best. You may roll." Cyrus took one last breath, and rolled.
Red.
Their eyes widened, one with wonder, the other with horror. The Angel gleamed with excitement, before bursting into laughter, "Goodness, it actually happened! Did you see that? It's red! You rolled red!" The Angel cackled in amusement, turning a head or two.
"What... The f***... did you just do to me?" Cyrus' breath shook. The Angel's laughter finally died down, and he replied, "You played, and you lost. Simple as." Cyrus grabbed the Angel by his coat, yanking him face to face with himself, "You said it was one in a googolplex. One in 10 to the-"
"-10 to the 10 to the 100, yes." the Angel piped in. "And you told me I could trust you. So why..." -Cyrus interrupted himself, hyperventilating between words- "why the F*** is it red?"
The Angel shrugged, "I played a finite game against infinity. I was always going to win, Cyrus. I didn't guess that you would lose."
His breath had become too fast. Cyrus collapsed to the floor, releasing his grip on the Angel. The Angel rose from his seat, bidding his farewell, "Well. It was fun playing with you, Cyrus. I'll be seeing you around." Cyrus snapped back to reality and yelled, "Wait! You can't just go! What do I do?" The Angel stopped, pondering. "You don't leave. Hell will take you one day, but as long as you're here, they don't have you yet."
"So that's it?! I'm trapped here, forever?" Cyrus screamed at the Angel. The Angel sighed dejectedly, "Oh, I wish. It's always the same with your lot and infinity. No matter what, there'll be a day you walk out of that door. Hell, you'd probably go willingly, trading one eternity for another just for a change of scenery." Cyrus heaved over the floor, ready to vomit as the Angel turned to leave.
"You'll be surprised, Cyrus. You and I are going to be great friends one day. We've more than enough time to get acquainted."
"What the hell do you know?"
The Angel stopped as the slot machine flared up once more.
"I know that time corrodes you. Give it long enough, maybe not even a decade, and you'll forget who you were today. And then, when the world disappears and reshapes, you'll cling to anything, even if it twists up your guts, so long as it lasts forever, just to feel like you haven't been walking so long."
Cyrus gasped for air. His eyes darted around the casino. He saw the Door, still leading to the very same back alley where it found him. He looked back to the Angel, who was finally making his exit.
"I also know this. A billion jackpots ago," -the Angel started, but he was interrupted as the noise from the slot machine rang once more- "Jim hated slots."