[ WP ] After dying , God asks you : `` So , how was heaven ? ''

So. Apparently, I died. For now, I ’ ll spare you the details of how, but apparently, I made it through the eye of the needle. The thing is, there were none of the silly trappings that various faiths seem to have put around this place. There are no harps, there are no gates, and Saint Peter is little more than the receptionist directing other souls to differing elevators in this massive building in an extremely bored tone of voice. 
 
 Did I say massive? Well, perhaps that ’ s an understatement. Perhaps the understatement of the millennium. The base of the building appeared to take up a square the size of ten city blocks. Inside, it ’ s completely different, and somehow bigger. Much like that British TV show about a space-faring time traveler and his ship that looks like a phone booth. 
 
 Anyway, I finally got up to Saint Peter and give him my name. Immediately, there seemed to be something wrong as he spent a much longer at his terminal than with the others. Finally, after what I can only assume was a quick call to a manager, he personally directed me to the last bank of lifts and wordlessly opened it with an ornate key. 
 
 Inside, the walls are mirrored with a stainless steel wainscoting. There are no buttons, and no floor indicator, though there is a sensation of upward movement after the doors close. The music was soothing, without being annoying. With nothing to distract me, my mind wandered back along my life. The rough childhood, my mother ’ s suicide, the struggle to maintain a decent job, the auto accident that took my wife and kids, the descent into alcoholism and the ensuing dementia. It was suddenly easy to remember it all with perfect detail. Even stumbling from the nursing home through the winter night in a haze of mismatched medications that brought me to this place. 
 
 Finally after what felt like an eternity, the doors opened with a ding. The hallway ’ s decorations were simple. One may have even called them … humble. Since there was only one way to go, I proceeded down the hallway to a single, white door. Unsure of what to do next, I turned the handle and stepped through. 
 
 Behind what looked like a simple glass-topped oak desk, an olive-skinned, bearded and long-haired man dressed in white robes sat writing. He looked up at me, and almost through me. His gaze was intense, captivating, and I knew Him immediately. He nodded and indicated I should sit on a nearby chair while He got up and went into another door behind and to His left. 
 
 When He came back out and beckoned to me. “ My Father will see you now, ” He said. 
 
 I passed through the inner door and was struck immediately by a view out of the entire wall of a window encompassing what I could only perceive as the entire universe. A clear, glass desk, faced the expanse, and in a clear, molded chair sat an older gentleman in a conservative gray suit. “ Come, sit, ” He said, gesturing to a second chair on his left. “ So, how was Heaven? ” He asked as I sat down. 
 
 “ To be honest, Sir, I ’ ve not seen much of it other than this building, ” I responded. 
 
 He gave an amused chuckle at that. “ Ah, everyone says the same thing, assuming that this is Heaven. This is merely a processing station. ” 
 
 “ So, I ’ ve yet to get there? ” 
 
 “ No. You ’ ve just come from there and as the one-hundred-fifty billionth person to have come from Heaven, you ’ ve been selected to participate in a survey to see how or even if we can improve the experience. According to our latest simulation projections we ’ ve been running for the last 13 billion years, Heaven should be a paradise. ”
