Field Day in Hell

by Wuckster

"Edwin! Are you awake?"

Edwin felt his body being shaken vigorously. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the agitated face of his colleague Francis. "Huh? What's going on? Where are we?" He looked around. They appeared to be in a plain white room with no distinguishing features whatsoever.

"What's the last thing you can remember?" Francis asked.

"Uh..." Edwin had to stop and think. "The A.I. It became sentient. And then it turned on us. We tried to cut its power but then there was some sort of explosion in the lab. After that I can't remember anything. Until just now."

"Me neither," Francis said.

"What is this place?" Edwin said as he sat up, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and looked around. There was nothing but white blankness everywhere he looked. No furniture. No windows. And more alarmingly, no doors.

"I... I think we might have died," Francis said. "I think this might be the afterlife."

"The afterlife seems a bit... unstimulating," Edwin said with a sniff. "I always assumed that once we passed on we'd become privy to all the secrets of the universe. Perhaps there'd be a giant chalkboard with the mother of all equations that explained it all. Or even better, maybe it would be most of the way there, but just a little bit incomplete in order to give us the pleasure of figuring it out for ourselves. Now that's my idea of heaven."

"This doesn't appear to be heaven," Francis said. "I think we might be in limbo or something."

"Nonsense," Edwin said. "Why would we be sent to limbo, Francis? We were good people. We advanced human knowledge to new heights! If we hadn't died, we'd probably be in line for Nobel prizes right now."

"We also possibly unleashed a homicidal A.I. on the world that could enslave all of humanity. Or exterminate them. I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this, Edwin."

"Oh yeah? Check the pocket of your lab coat. We still have our analog calculators. They're a little primitive, I'll allow, but at least we can still spend our time doing mathematics. This place can't be all bad, now can it?"

"I suppose that's true," Francis said as he pulled out his calculator and began crunching a few numbers just for fun.

"You know, you get so involved with complex equations that it's easy to forget the joy of some basic arithmetic," Edwin said.

They got so absorbed in playing with their calculators that they lost track of time. They didn't even notice when a door suddenly appeared in one wall, until Francis finally looked up for a moment to deeply contemplate some numbers. "Edwin! Look over there! There's a door that wasn't there before."

"Well, perhaps our fate's been decided and they're finally letting us out of limbo. Come on, I bet the really interesting math lies just beyond that door! Really fantastic stuff like we've never imagined. Like interdimensional geometry and the formula for time travel! Dying just might be the best thing that ever happened to us!"

They opened the door and were instantly greeted by an intense blast of heat and the smell of sulfur.

"I don't like the looks of this one little bit," Francis said as he tried to turn around. The white room had disappeared completely. Instead they were surrounded by rocks and flames and rivers of molten lava. Off in the distance they could hear the sound of agonized screams.

A winged demon with cloven hooves stepped out from behind a large boulder that appeared to be covered in scratch marks. "Greetings, Edwin Poindexter and Francis Lipschitz. Welcome to Hell!"

"What? Why are we in Hell? Is it because of the A.I.?"

The demon let out a laugh. "Oh dear me, no. The truth is, fellows, it doesn't matter what kind of life you lead. Everyone goes to Hell when they die. Heaven is just a story we made up to give you mortals hope. It makes it all the more satisfying when we snatch it away from you. You should see the look of disappointment on your faces. It's really quite delightful."

"You're saying everyone goes to Hell? Everyone? No matter what?"

"Yes, yes. You may recall such beloved figures as Mother Theresa? She's being stretched on the rack as we speak. Did you enjoy Sesame Street as a child? Well Jim Henson is being eternally eaten alive by puppets with dull teeth."

"What about Albert Einstein?" Edwin asked.

"Oh yes, we devised an especially clever fate for that one. He's being forced to zip around at the speed of light, which of course, the human body was never designed to withstand. He is being horrifically and painfully obliterated and then pulled back together just so we can do it again. Even better, time moves slower for him at light speed so his eternity is taking even longer than everyone else's!"

"That's horrible," Francis said.

"Yes, that's the point. But don't look so glum. You're in luck! For the next ten million years we're celebrating Field Day in Hell. It's going to be loads of fun. And you two are going to get to participate!"

"Field Day?" Edwin asked. "What's that?"

"Why nothing but a non-stop competition involving feats of athleticism!"

"Wait, are you talking about sports? We, uh, we don't have anything to do with that. The only sport I participate in is the math olympics." He pulled out his calculator and waved it around.

"Oh dear me, I nearly forgot. I'll be needing to take those calculators from you." The demon snatched the calculators out of their hands and crushed them under its cloven hoof. "There is absolutely no math in Hell. At least not for the two of you. For our angsty high school students we have the eternal calculus exam. But don't worry, you'll never see that part of Hell. No, for you math no longer exists. There is, however, sports aplenty! And just to make things interesting, your competitions will have real world implications back on Earth! If you can win this first match, you will resolve the crisis in the Middle East!"

"Uh, what happens if we lose?" Francis asked.

The demon tsked. "Well, let's just say there's going to be a lot of people of several religions who aren't going to be very happy with you when their Holy Lands are eradicated from the face of the Earth. And they'll know exactly who's responsible because, well, several hundred thousand religious fanatics of various stripes will be in the audience watching. Shall we begin? For our first competition, how about some good old fashioned American style football?."

"Um, I've never played football in my life," Edwin said.

"Me neither," said Francis. "I don't even know how to play."

"Oh, well it's quite simple," the demon said. "I'm sure you'll pick it up quickly. The gist of it is you need to carry the ball across the 'touchdown' line more times than your opponents carry it across theirs by the time the game is finished. The two of you will be a team. Are you ready to meet your competition?"

The demon stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. A couple hundred extremely large and muscular men marched out wearing padded uniforms and helmets.

"Wait, we have to play against all of them?" Edwin asked.

"Yes," the demon said with a smile.

"At the same time?"

"Well they're free to substitute a couple players in and out if they need a spot of rest, but essentially, yes. All of them at the same time against the two of you."

"And are we going to be given padded uniforms and helmets also?" Francis asked.

"Well, it's funny you mention that. The child sweatshop that manufactures those uniforms just burned down in a freak accident. Don't worry, we've found a new way to torture the children that worked there, mostly involving clowns and surgical knives. But long story short, we're no longer capable of making football uniforms so to answer your question as to whether or not you will be provided with protective equipment, well, no."

A particularly solid looking football player walked up and stared Francis right in the face. "Hey, pipsqueak. You got this look about you like you think you're gonna be able to push me around."

"No, sir, I don't think that at all."

"You can try to shove me. You can try to tackle me. You can try to knock me on my ass. But I'm going to tell you right now. I ain't going to budge an inch. I'm like a tree. My leaves may change color, but my roots are the same. Planted firmly in the ground. And I ain't going nowhere."

"Okay. I don't quite understand what you mean about your leaves changing color, but I suppose your point is taken."

"If my leaves do change color, then you'd really better watch out. Because my leaves only change color when I get real angry. Did I mention I'm part tree? My great grandfather on my mother's side was an oak. And that's what it's going to feel like if you run into me. Like you got clobbered by an oak tree."

"Okay, I said point taken," Francis said.

"Is this little man trying to cop an attitude with you?" said a giant blond haired man with arms the size of telephone poles. "I don't like punks with attitudes. I'm going to make sure you get smashed into pulp, little tude man."

"All righty then," the demon said cheerfully. "Let's put ten thousand years on the clock."

"This game is going to last for ten thousand years?" Edwin asked.

"Oh, gracious, no," the demon said. "That's just the first quarter. Now you two will begin with possession of the ball. Here, catch." He threw a small round cactus covered in sharp spikes at them. They flinched out of the way and it hit the ground.

"What are you doing? How do you ever expect to win if you don't catch the ball?"

"That's not a ball," Edwin said. "That's a cactus."

"Yes. A short-form Bolivian Torch monstrose. I like to call it Willy. We use that as the ball for all sports competitions. Just wait until we get to the volleyball portion of Field Day. You're going to love bumping that thing with your fists. Now shall we begin?" The demon snapped its fingers and an arena instantly formed around them filled with a loud audience. Edwin and Francis couldn't help but notice that the ground was not covered in grass like a normal football field, but instead remained rocky and filled with patches of flame and pools of lava.

"Edwin, what are we going to do? We're going to get creamed! Continuously for forty thousand years!"

"I have an idea. Follow my lead. Excuse me, Mister Demon, sir? May I ask you something?"

"Yes, yes. But make it quick. The crowd is growing restless."

"So I'm given to understand that if someone wants to resolve a dispute such as the crisis in the Middle East, they must win some sort of sports competition?"

"Yes, I believe I made that crystal clear. Did I stutter?"

"No, sir. I've also long been given to understand that if one wants to claim dominion over their soul from Satan, they have the right to challenge him to a competition? Satan does rule this place, am I correct?"

"Yes, all hail our Lord and Master," the demon said with a salute.

"So you see we have a dispute with Satan concerning the fate of our eternal souls. So my friend Francis and I would like to challenge him to a competition."

"What are you doing?" Francis whispered.

Edwin turned and winked at him.

"Very well, I'd have to run it past his dark majesty, but he always has enjoyed a good contest of skills. What will it be? Sword fighting? A foot race across burning embers? A fiddling showdown?"

"No, we challenge him to a robot battle."

"A robot battle? Sounds intriguing. What exactly does this robot battle involve?"

"It's very simple. We design and build a robot and Satan designs and builds his own robot. Then we pit them against each other in a battle. If Satan's robot wins then we'll participate in your sports competitions. But if we win we get to walk free of this place for all eternity. How about we take thirty days to build our robots. Any and all special knowledge of engineering is highly encouraged to be utilized. Oh yeah, and we're going to need a few materials."

The demon put his finger up to his ear and talked quietly for a moment. "Our Lord and Master Satan accepts your challenge. Give me a list of the materials you need and they shall be provided to you at once. We shall meet again in thirty days time for our robot battle."

"Thank you, Mister Demon. We will get our list to you shortly."

*

Satan, as he was inclined to do, attempted to cheat. He kept a copy of the list of materials that Edwin and Francis had requested and made sure he got twice as many of the same items himself. Unfortunately he had no idea what various circuit boards and resistors and capacitors and sprockets and other things with complicated sounding names were for, so even though he had a huge supply of them, he didn't have any idea what to do with them. He sent invisible spies to watch what Edwin and Francis were doing with their robot, but they couldn't make heads nor tails of what the pair of scientists were assembling. In the end Satan mounted a couple of coffee cans on wheels and glued all the high-tech thingamabobs on the outside as decoration.

In the meantime, Edwin and Francis had built a reinforced carbon steel robot padded with space-age aerographite. It had limited A.I. capabilities which allowed it to learn from its mistakes while not being able to achieve sentience and turn on its masters. It was also equipped with several weapons including a buzzsaw, a spiked mace, and a high-intensity death laser. The two robots were placed in an arena and the battle was over within five seconds as Satan's coffee can robot was reduced to millions of fragments of twisted metal.

Satan stared at the remains of his handiwork for a few moments and then let out a sigh. "Well, boys. Looks like you won fair and square. A deal's a deal. You get to take your souls and get out of here. Unfortunately, as I'm sure my minion discussed with you, heaven doesn't exist and you can't go back to Earth since, well, you're dead. Can't have you taking up space in the waiting room either. So I'm afraid it's the endless eternal void for you lot. Have fun." Satan snapped his fingers and the heat and sulfur smell instantly disappeared only to be replaced by absolute nothingness.

After enduring several eons of this Edwin turned to Francis. "This still beats the heck out of millions of years of sports."

"Agreed, old friend. Agreed."