Infinite Games

6. Times Three

There were six of us. Out of the millions of demons that probably existed, only six were willing to risk immortality for a spot at the Game Master's Table.

I had been pulled from the great bingo game tent in the sky, and dropped haphazardly into the underworld. All the books and movies think it's some big, molten, fiery cyst of torture. Hollywood would be in for a helluva shocker when they saw, well, Hell!

What had started as a shanty town in a desolate wasteland had in fact become a sprawling, leaning, piling mess of buildings. The Underworld was the ugliest of cities, filled with the ugliest of citizens.

Demons didn't have much care for color coordination, so every shabby house had adopted a preferred hue. That doesn't sound so bad, until you see ten shades of green stacked on top of one another. The Underworld was built with these messy, clashing skyscrapers reaching toward the heavens; it was as though demons had decided to produce one mass middle finger through construction for the angels watching above.

Of course, spacing hadn't been a concern either. Streets were big enough for three satyrs to walk abreast, and wound through the city like a maze on opioids. There were no street signs, and the sewage ran everywhere. I wouldn't have minded that, had it not been for the noise. Thousands of voices, each fighting to be heard over another, argued and conversed above us. Every sound echoed downward, and we had to keep our ears flattened, less we wanted to lose our hearing.

The six of us trotted toward the town square in two groups. Our hooves kicked up stinking ashes and crumbling pieces of colored concrete laced with animal bone. Above our heads, in the few spare spaces between buildings, ribbons of fire lit the corroded pathways, illuminating muck and an array of oversized dead ravens.

Exiting the slum of city, it was disorienting to find a large space. The town square wasn't as much a square as it was a triangle, bordered by ten story grey walls, which was even more befuddlement to the eyes. I blinked constantly as the six of us slowed down. The grey sameness was equivalent to trying to stare at the sun: there was a lot of wincing, and tears might leak from the pain.

The others were suffering just as badly. There were hisses and a round of curses, followed with an encore. We found it more pleasing to stare at the fiery designs on the floor. They weren't truly burning. Just painted red-gold to plagiarize the effect of flickering flame.

"Competitors, the town square is your battlefield," said a voice that reminded me of the growls of a howler monkey.

The large walls closed their gaps. Granite slid upon concrete until we were locked in a big triangle box. Looking up, I could see nothing but the dark matter of midnight.

Without the noise of city permeating the place, it was eerily quiet. I unfolded my ears.

"This is not a test of physical prowess. A game master does not require it. The Lord of the Heavens must be acquired through the act of tessellation," boomed the howler. "Your first task is to unlock the gates of hell beneath your feet, and ascend to the mortal realm. Participation assures you move to the next task. Begin."

I looked around the floor, at all the paintings. This was a joke. No way could we "ascend" if there was nothing but blank walls. The six of us congregated and sat. But none of our pow-wows were of use.

"This is useless! I give up!" a demoness stood up and began to stomp off, her hooves clacking loudly on stone.

We all watched her leave. She made it to the walls, gave the cold rock a solid punch, and began to burn. I'd never seen someone burn before, but it had to be the most harrowing experiences of my afterlife. She screamed and ran as the fire licked away her flesh before our eyes, eventually giving in and falling nearby, allowing us front row viewing when the flames consumed everything. Even bones.

I breathed curses and rocked on my haunches. The five of us couldn't speak for a long while.