Nick felt almost good-humoredlybuoyant after his year’s holidayas a college boy. About a secondafter leaving Earth he slowed histraveling speed down to the mediumvelocity of light by shiftingfrom fifth dimension to fourth.Though still a million miles abovethe wastes of Chaos and twice thatdistance from the gates of Hell,his X-ray eyes were quick to discerna difference in the road far belowhim.
Sin and Death had built thatbroad highway eons before. Onleaving Hell, presumedly foreverto carry on their work among men,they had done a mighty good jobof the original construction. Buttime had worked its ravages withthe primrose-lined path, and it wasnot surprising that on starting hissabbatical leave, Nick had orderedhis chief engineer to repair theroad as a first step in his plan tomodernize Hell.
Apparently, old Mulciber haddone a bang-up job, and Nickroared in laughter at evidences ofthe engineer’s genius and those of wily Belial, the handsome courtwag. The Propaganda Chief hadadded advertising at numerous newroadhouses along the way, andunwary shades traveling hellwardgazed at beautiful scenes of lushvegetation instead of a dreary expanselike the Texas Panhandle.This “devilish cantraip sleight”also changed the raw Chaos climateto a steady 72°F and gave off abalmy fragrance of fruits and flowers.
Ten thousand drachmas, a fictitiousunit of currency establishedby foxy old Mammon, was the flatfee for use of the road. Blissfullyunaware of this “TransportationCharge,” or how it would be paid,numerous phantom pilgrims weresliding down the steeper hills—andhaving a swell time. Theirshouts of glee reached Nick’slargish ears despite the lack of airas mortals know it. Clever oldMulcie had installed freezingplants here and there to surfacethe road with glare ice.
Nick poised above a party ofphantom men and girls slidingdownhill on their derrieres andending in a heap at the bottom. Anice change from traveling undertheir own power. Their maximumspeed while swift and incomprehensibleto mortals, seemed relativelyslow to one of Hell’s oldtimers. Only Nick and his bestscout, Cletus, could move atthought speed—“Click-ClickTransportation.”
Drifting on, a pleased smile onhis red, bony face, Nick pausedseveral times to read Belial’s welcomings.
“Die and see the original Naplesin all its natural beauty,” said onesign. “Try our hot sulphur springs