Rupert died and went to Heaven. Standing for judgment, he saw other souls receive weighty deliberation before being admitted. When his turn came, the angel only waved him through with a bored flick of the wrist. Lacking guidance, Rupert wandered. Heaven was a city like where he'd grown up, but clean and bright, abuzz with the sounds of joy but absent the pain and anger. He watched other new admittees moving with purpose. Apparently they had someplace to go.

Neither wearying nor growing hungry, Rupert didn't know how long he wandered. He felt it had been a long time, perhaps years. Absent anything else to do, he ascended to the roof of a building and calmly stepped off.

Rupert died and woke again. Where Heaven had been bright, this was twilight. "You lived an acceptable life, Rupert," said a faceless angel of swirling light and dark, "and so went to Heaven. But you were bad at being in Heaven, so your second afterlife will be in the Hell of Heaven."

Ahead of him lay another city, louder and dirtier than the one he'd just left. "It's basically like Earth," said the angel. Rupert smiled, and went to find a job.