The ride to the Presentation Building took longer than I expected.
Out the train window, all I saw were endless rails—twisting, branching, weaving into one another like tangled nerves.Trains sped by in every direction. Most were small, like mine—fit for three or four passengers.But some were massive, subway-length beasts, and others were industrial titans dragging endless chains of cargo containers behind them.
Then there was the factory.
I'd seen it when I first arrived on Sublevel Two—enormous even from a distance.But as we moved closer, it loomed even larger.It stretched so far, even in this hellish place where no horizon existed, you couldn't see its end.Countless rails fed into its heart, including the one we rode. We passed straight through its steel veins.
Sitting across from me was my guide—a devilishly cute woman with more energy than the train we were on.She was a talker.And I mean really a talker.
I wanted to get away from her—not just because of her Hellfire pistol, which she wore like an accessory, but because she radiated that kind of manic cheerfulness that made you feel unsafe.Still, I kept smiling. Kept nodding.I didn't want to end up on her bad side.Didn't want to be on the receiving end of that gun.So I listened—pretended to laugh, responded like I cared—while she ranted endlessly about her life here in Hell and how luxurious it all was.
Somewhere along the way, I got curious.
"So… what did you do when you were alive?" I asked.
"Me? I was a fashion model. Why?"
"I dunno. You don't seem like you miss being alive. You seem… happy here."
She laughed. Loud and carefree.But just for a moment—barely noticeable—her expression darkened.Had I asked the wrong question?
"If it's too personal, you don't have to answer," I said quickly, hoping she wouldn't take it the wrong way.That pistol on her hip glinted in the light, like it was listening too.
Then—just like that—her head snapped up, and her eyes blazed with something that looked a little too much like madness.
"Oh, I'm soooo much happier now! So. Much.Back when I was alive, I was just as cute and bubbly.Guys used to chase me around, asking for my number.It got so annoying that I stopped giving it out. Started acting all aloof.
Then I met this guy—super handsome, great body, tall. We worked together, and we started dating.But he was a player.Even while he was with me, he'd sleep around, get gifts from other girls.
So I started checking his phone. Following him.And suddenly I was the crazy one.He told everyone I was a psycho. Obsessed.Rumors spread, even at work. I couldn't book jobs anymore.
I fell into depression. Couldn't sleep.Started taking sleeping pills. Tranquilizers. Anything to get a little peace.
Some nights, I wanted to kill him.Other nights, I missed him.It drove me insane—those two thoughts, fighting each other over and over.Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore.
I went to find him. With a knife.Thought we'd die together.He called the cops on me.
After that, I couldn't think of a way to get revenge.So I left him a note…And killed myself.Wanted him to live with that guilt forever.
It was awful. But now, when I look back…I think it was the best decision I ever made.
I'm so much happier down here.
No one judges me.I finish work, hang with the girls, drink what I want—no one tells me I can't.No more stressing over rent.If I make officer, I get a nice place, better food, no more poverty.
And if someone bothers me?I use my Hellfire gun. Poof. Problem solved.
Everything's better here."
She beamed as she said it.But I thought I saw a shimmer in her eyes.Maybe a tear. Maybe just a trick of the light.
The way she spoke—bright, bubbly, almost too loud—it felt like she was drowning herself in her own words.Trying not to remember the girl she used to be.
Still... something else was bugging me.
"Hey, just wondering…Back at the holding zone, and even now—it seems like all the guides and control officers are women.Is that a rule here? Only women get promoted?"
"Not exactly," she said, tilting her head with a grin."There are ranks.We guides and enforcers? We're the lowest tier. And yeah, they mostly pick women for these jobs.But once you go up a few levels, there are a lot more men."
"So, did you get picked? Or is there, like, a test?"
She burst into laughter.
"A test? What do you think this is, Earth?You think Hell gives you exam stress too?No way.
There's no official selection or civil service junk down here.Most of us guides started off as regular citizens. Just like you, Eric.
Then one day, if you're lucky, someone up the chain—a higher-ranking officer—might pick you.That's what happened to me.
A male officer spotted me, gave me a shot, and now here I am.I still see him sometimes. I always make sure to thank him.
I think I spent about two hundred years as a citizen.It was brutal.I even tried to kill myself again, but down here, you can't die.
Citizen life in Hell? It's misery.Being an officer? Total freedom.
If anyone ever tried to send me back, I'd do whatever it took to stay here.Officers get treated very differently.
And the biggest perk?"She patted the Hellfire pistol on her hip."This.With this, even big strong guys like you start shaking in their boots."
She laughed again, a little too loud.
Every time her hand touched that pistol, a chill ran down my spine.
This woman wasn't just surviving in Hell.
She was winning.