Robert Sheckley: City of the Dead

We fly through the streets of the city of the dead, a ghost among ghosts, and we turn the corners and respect the masses of the buildings, even though we could fly right through them. This is a documentary about hell, not a commentary. The city of the dead, the city of hell is abstract enough without us worsening the situation by flying through walls that are supposed to be solid.

It is quite wonderful to be able to fly through the streets. Most of this city is built of a soft white marble, and it is a very classical sort of place. Plenty of pillars so that you could almost think you were in Athens in about 400 B.C. But the streets are empty, there's no traffic of any sort, the city of the dead is a dead sort of place, although people have tried to start some entertainment.

It stands to reason, what else do the dead have to do but entertain themselves? What to do has been a problem for hell for a long time. What is death there for? What's it all about? This sort of thing begins to bother people once they find themselves dead. The first thing they do is check out their situation. OK, I'm dead, I've got that. So is this supposed to be punishment? If so, what for? Is it for my sins? Which sins, specifically? Is atonement permitted? What do I have to do to atone? Or is it a question of serving a specific sentence? Or is this one forever, and should we just relax and take it one day at a time?

The main question of course is, how long does this go on? Most people would even take "Forever" as an answer. But that's not what they tell you, once you start asking. On the contrary. You are led to believe from the start that hell is for a period of time, after which there will be something else. Maybe this is the only way they can get you to think over your life. Because you're going to have to do something about it. Or so you think.

"By the way," I said, "would you like a pomegranate seed?"

I was Hades, a large well-built fellow with black hair and a black closely trimmed beard. I was a sort of piratical looking fellow, Though soft in nature to belie my bold looks. My grabbing Persephone the way I did was the first thing of its kind I had ever done. Put it down to irresistible impulse. There she was, gathering flowers in the meadows with her girlfriends, and I was riding by in my golden chariot drawn by my four fiery black horses, and the next thing I knew she was in my arms and there was hell to pay.

Persephone of course was beautiful. She had long light brown hair that reached to her waist. Her nose, also, was quite finely drawn. It was one of those perfect Greek noses that merge up into the forehead.

That was then and now was now, six months later, and she and I were sitting in the little shaded platform on the banks of the Styx, at the place where Charon ties up his houseboat. She looked at the two pomegranate seeds I was holding out to her, and said, "You're not trying to trick me, are you?"

"No" I told her, "I'm not a tricky sort of a guy. I don't play games. That's not how we operate here in hell. We're direct, straightforward, just like I was when I kidnapped you in the first place. Do you remember that day?"

"I remember it all too well," Persephone said. "I was out in the fields, harvesting with my friends. You came riding up in your chariot of gold drawn by four fiery horses. You were wearing black.

"And I lifted you up with one arm, first twisting my cloak back so it would be out of the way. I put my arm around your waist and lifted you into my chariot."

"The girls just stood by and gaped," Persephone said. "And when Mother found out, she didn't know what to make of it."

"She knew perfectly well what to make of it," I told her. "It had been prophesied long ago that this would happen: that I would see you gathering flowers with the other nymphs and fall in love with you. And it was the first time I ever fell in love. I'm not like the other gods, you know, Apollo and Poseidon and all that lot. They're forever falling in love and swearing that this time it's for keeps. And then they're off again next day after the next bit of skirt. But I am the King of Death and I only fall in love once."

"Poor Hades!" Persephone said. "Will you be very lonely without me?"

"I'll have my memories," I told her. "I've had a wonderful half year with you. I've loved having you on the throne beside me. I've been so happy that you're my queen in hell."

"I quite liked being queen of hell," Persephone said. "It's been special. I mean, hell is not like some other country. Hell is everything after it's been used up and turned all soft and easy to handle."

"Hell is the place of appreciation," I told her. "On earth, when you're living, there's not enough time to really get into things. But here in hell everything can take as long as it needs. There's nothing to fear because we're dead already. But also there's nothing to feel bad about because in some weird way we're still living."

"The afternoons are so long," Persephone said. "They're like the afternoons when I was a girl. They seemed to just go on and on, and the sun is reluctant to climb down the sky. But here there is no sun. Just a faint sepulchral glow across the marches that at irregular intervals lightens and darkens. But no definite sun. I miss the sun."

I nodded. "We have light, but no sun. There's moonlight, though, and the special light from the torches that light the halls of the palace of death."

"Yes, and they cast long shadows," Persephone said. "I used to be afraid of shadows, but in hell there isn't anything to fear."

"No," I said, "the worst has happened and it's all over. Won't you try this pomegranate seed?"

She took one of the pomegranate seeds I was offering her and put it on the palm of her narrow white hand. "Why do you want me to eat it?" she said. "It's a trick, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said, "I can keep no secrets from you. It's a trick."

"What happens if I eat it?"

"It means I will still have some claim on you even in the land of the living. It means that you will return to hell."

"Return to hell?" Persephone said. "But I was planning to return and visit you anyway."

I shook my head. "You don't know what you'll do when you get back into the upper world with its light and air. Once you're fully alive again, you'll forget me. And you'll wonder how you ever came to enjoy this gloomy palace with its dark courtyards and the river of forgetfulness always running by with the dead souls swimming just below its surface and the weeping willows murmuring just overhead. You'll think to yourself, 'He must have bewitched me! No one in his right mind goes for a holiday in hell.' "

She smiled and touched my hand. "Maybe you have bewitched me. I'm quite content here in hell."

"Then eat the pomegranate seed," I told her.

She did not move. Her gaze was far away. She said after a while, "Achilles and Helen asked us over this evening for dinner. You must make my apologies."

We freeze on Hades and Persephone, and then we cut away from them, leave the river bank, track across green rolling meadows with topiary sculpture that makes the place look like a funeral home or a French park, and we continue to the palace of the dead. From the middle distance it's like a small city. The palace is the composite of many palace-shaped buildings. They are all crowded together, and some are a dozen levels high. You see all sorts of shapes in these buildings made up of many other buildings that make up the city of the dead. There are domes of all sorts, and spires, and many shapes, both curved and cubical. Binding them all together are narrow roadways from many different levels. From many of the buildings you can walk out a window on an upper floor and cross directly, or by a little catwalk, to the next building.