You know that feeling, Kathy, when you think there’s one more step on the stairs, but there’s not? That half-second of sinking disorientation? That’s what astronauts feel constantly, until we get accustomed.

Sorry I’m rambling, but talking to you helps.

You thought they’d issue me suicide pills before the mission. I laughed, told you that’s a myth—on the station it’s quicker to open an airlock. In any case, astronauts don’t think that way. Before the first moon mission, a reporter supposedly asked one of the crew what he’d do if the lander couldn’t lift off and he got stranded there.

His answer?

“I’d work on the engine.”

See, astronauts can be funny, Kathy! Like I’ve always found space stations in movies funny. When something goes wrong in those, lights start swirling, alarms start blaring, and a voice starts droning, “Emergency, emergency.” As if bad lighting and loud noises would be helpful.

No, the ground crew simply spoke in my ear, saying get my ass to the escape capsule, something was happening. I went, no questions. They’d never joke about that.

The capsule was idiot-proof, always pointed home. Climb in, push a button, and you’re on the ground ASAP. I wasn’t looking forward to shaking my guts out on re-entry, but afterwards I could ask what happened while waiting for the chutes to deploy.

Except there was no shaking. And no communication.

You know that feeling, when you think there’s one more step on the stairs, but there’s not? I’ve felt that way for an hour. The capsule went straight down, but Earth wasn’t there.

Where are you, Kathy?

Welcome to Hell, my friend. No, it’s not what I expected when I first arrived, either, but it’s true.

Hell is an office job.

Doesn’t seem too bad for Hell, does it? Practically a dream job, compared to lakes of fire and all that. I mean sure, it’s not one of those hip offices with funky feng shui and trendy colors and organic juice bars. It’s not even a cubicle farm, where at least you get a tiny scrap of privacy while you work.

No, it’s just an office with an open floor plan. Nothing but desks, row upon row of gray metal desks beneath sickly fluorescent lighting. These people sitting at the desks are your new co-workers. You may hear an occasional cough or sniffle, but for the most part, we’re all very quiet.

Why?

Because we’re thinking, that’s why. We are thinking very, very hard about the blank piece of paper on our desks.

You’ve got one, too. It’s a standard 3x5 index card, with one red line at the top and ten blue lines underneath. No fancy computers to work on here, just a plain, simple index card.

But it’s a very important index card. You get a new one every day, and if you write something on it, then you might get the evening off.

What’s so great about an evening off?

Well, a day in Hell may be like working in an office, but the nights are another thing entirely. At night, we could end up with fire ants poured into our ears, or dancing barefoot on broken glass. We’ve had our eyes lanced, our tongues shredded, and our intestines unwound. And those were the easy nights. Normally it’s much worse.

That’s why these index cards are so important.

Did you think devils and demons would be creative with their punishments? Try telling a bunch of humans that one of them will get the night off if they come up with the most inventive torture of the day. Demons can’t even compete with our creativity.

But hey, it’s almost quitting time. We’ve got to drop our cards in the suggestion box before the 5:00 deadline. I’d wish you good luck, but that would mean really bad luck for me, wouldn’t it?

Oh wait, I see that look in your eyes. You’re thinking about getting everyone to band together and write down easy tortures, like runny noses and stubbed toes, right?

Well, forget about it. No matter what you do, there will always be that one guy, you know? Usually more than one, but there will always be at least one stupid, selfish, or just plain evil asshole who ruins things for everyone else. If you don’t believe me, then you don’t know your fellow humans very well.

Or you never worked in an office.