They reappeared, to Stanley's immense surprise, in a brightly lit but plain room, with cushions piled into a corner. A winged figure was lounging against them, groaning.
"Who's-"
"Let's go," the Devil said firmly, marching towards the white door and wrenching it open.
They stepped into a similarly lit corridor.
"Is this... heaven?" Stanley asked, looking around in what he hoped was an appropriately awed expression.
The Devil turned on him and smirked.
"Hey, Stanley!" Dreadlord said. Stanley turned to see his face peering out of the door of the room.
"Er, are you... stuck?" Stanley asked, uncomfortably close to Dreadlord's eyebrows.
"No," he said. He stood up inside the room and the door wobbled uncertainly before expanding to high above Stanley's head. He watched as the edges of the door were wavy and uncertain before snapping into a solid door shape.
Dreadlord stepped out of the room. Stanley heard the corridor expand to accommodate.
"I... see..."
Just as Dreadlord was about to break into a lecture on how demons lived, a piercing shriek emerged from one side of the corridor.
"Oh my!" it shrieked, "Excuse me!"
A plainly dressed man, someone so average looking he blended in to a white corridor ran up to Stanley.
"Where did you come from? You look dazed. Are you dazed?"
"Uhh," Stanley said.
The man nodded. "You sound dazed. Come on, I'll show you all to the transdimensioned rehab clinic."
The man looked across at the Devil and up at Dreadlord and said, "Come on, it's alright now. Just... stay clenched."
The Devil shook his head. "No, uh, rehab? What?"
The man walked over to the Devil and grasped his hands. "My friend. I am Lance."
"Lance?" Stanley said.
"Yes." Lance gripped the Devil's hands firmly, staring him in the eyes. "Tell me, what is your name?"
The Devil screwed up his face.
"Tell him," Dreadlord said solemnly.
"It's..."
"Yes?"
"It's... the Devil."
Lance's face remained deadpan, even under the Devil's careful scrutiny. He said quietly, "And tell me. What did you see... out there? In the other dimensions?"
The Devil frowned. "A lot of priests."
Lance shook his head sadly.
"And a nuclear explosion."
Lance nodded. "Go on."
The Devil shrugged. "Er, that was about it really."
Lance dropped the Devil's hands. "Is that it?"
"Well, yes," said the Devil, looking to his comrades for support. It was not forthcoming.
Lance looked disgusted. "Oh, I thought you were mentally scarred from the horrors of the infinite."
Collectively, the three shook their heads.
"It wasn't that bad," Stanley said.
Lance turned on him and scowled. "It could have been. Some have come back, gibbering wrecks, lucky enough to have stumbled upon one of the emergency flags we planted. But it will never be enough. It's a losing battle with infinity. Some will be stuck forever, gliding between dimensions, witnessing horrors no angel or demon should ever see…”
Lance trailed off, staring at an indeterminable point in space. He interrupted the bemused silence that followed by saying, "Well, you're just taking up space down here then. You should probably head back to Hell. But... what is this guy doing here? He looks... weird."
"I look just like you!" Stanley cried.
Lance shook his head slowly. "You really, truly don’t."
The Devil stepped forward. "He's someone we dragged out of our dimension. We need to get him... dealt with."
Stanley winced. "Don't say it like that, please."
Lance rubbed his head. "Yeah, there's been a few like that. You'll need to go to Heaven, General Organisation Division, Section Eight Two Nine B. Go straight to the Senior there, Angel Gabriel."
"The Angel Gabriel?" Stanley asked.
"No," said the Devil and Lance in unison.
"Oh."
The Devil turned to Dreadlord. "I'm taking this guy to Heaven. I suppose you've got better things to do."
"Not really," replied Dreadlord. “Infact-“
"Bye then. Come on, Stanley."
Stanley walked behind the Devil. He turned and waved at Dreadlord.
"Bye," he said.
"Bye," said Dreadlord, raising a huge hand.
"Nice meeting you," Stanley hazarded.
"You too..." Dreadlord said, with a tinge of embarrassment.
The Devil and Stanley walked in silence up the corridor, until it eventually came to an elevator. The Devil pressed the button and the door opened instantly, with just a wisp of smoke.
They stepped in and the Devil pressed the only button available.
The doors opened even more dramatically, preparing Stanley for the sight that he beheld.
It was a vast open plan office that stretched beyond the limit of his vision, disappearing into a blurry horizon. It was, as far as he could see, populated by angels of varying stature, some with vast, golden wingspans. Meeker individuals with crooked halos scurried about carrying paperwork and cups of tea. Interspersed throughout the fields of desks were large ornate devices which Stanley knew he could never begin to comprehend the workings of.
For a start, people seemed to be walking into them, at which point they folded up and disappeared.
Stanley breathed, before considering the sight in front of him frowning. He said, "Is this Heaven?"
"This is God's support workforce, although it is situated in the business district of Heaven."
Stanley swallowed. "I see."
The Devil stepped out of the lift, now all the mist had dispersed.
"Come on," the Devil said, "Let's go see God."
Stanley hurried out of the lift, rapidly evaluating his sins and forming an argument for his salvation.
"Don't worry, you won't be Judged. Not in any official capacity, anyway."
Stanley was vaguely reassured.
The Devil said, "The elevator is over there, it shouldn't take us too long to get there. Don't get lost."
They strode off quickly towards it. The elevator seemed quite far away, but the optical illusion the endless rows of desks caused was disorientating and a little malicious.
As they walked down an avenue between the desks, dodging angels, the Devil said, "So, your first time in Heaven."
"Yes," said Stanley, trying to look around at everything and not get lost at the same time.
Off-handedly, the Devil said, "Might also be your last."
Stanley's attention was suddenly focused.
"What does that mean?"
"What?" said the Devil.
"What do you know? Am I going to Hell when I die? Do you know that?"
The Devil shrugged. "Oh, it was just a joke."
Stanley stuck out his chin. "No, now I think about it, this is all making sense. You're a demon. I made a bet with you. You can probably smell the people who are damned. I'm fucked, aren't I?"
The Devil shook his head. "Not at all, not at all. You did nothing wrong because you didn't lose. Well, you've got your other sins I suppose..."
Stanley threw up his arms. "See! There you go again! You know, don't you?!"
"I don't!" the Devil said, "I really don't! You could still be saved. All humanity can. It's a pretty sweet deal you've got really. You just need to repent and all that."
Stanley sighed.
The Devil said, "Listen, I've lied to you a lot since I've met you."
"A lot?"
"But I'm telling you the truth now. You can still go to Heaven. You really can. You are most eligible, apart from a brief run-in with the Devil."
"A demon," Stanley said.
"Sure. But really, you're fine."
Stanley nodded. "Well, good."
They reached the elevator, much to Stanley's surprise.
"For now," the Devil said darkly, stepping into the elevator.
Stanley followed him in, shaking his head. "Don't start..."
The doors closed behind them and they ascended in silence.
They reached the top and they stepped out onto a similarly enormous office as before, only much grander in decoration. Gold spires held up a vast ceiling and the beating of huge angelic wings filled the air. There was a faint choral score underpinning the whole scene, which really sold it to Stanley.
"This is amazing," he gasped.
The Devil stood next to him. "This is God."
Stanley looked around. "Where?"
"All this," the Devil said. "The General Organisation Division. They make sure the Earth runs smoothly, liaise with Hell if we need anything evil doing. They used to grant miracles, but that was abolished."
Stanley surveyed the landscape in front of him. He sighed.
The Devil nodded knowingly. "It's not as good, knowing, is it? For three hundred years I thought he was some huge bearded man. What a let down, eh?"
"Yeah," Stanley agreed. "It's still pretty good though."
"Sure is," said the Devil, leading them off through the desks.
Stanley followed him, nervously trying to avoid the wings of the angels at their desks. He felt slightly guilty every time he brushed against them.
They weaved through the desks before the Devil suddenly came to a halt before one. He stared down at the angel who was sat there, a diminutive angel with a white halo and gold rimmed glasses.
"Are those real gold glasses?" the Devil asked.
"They're not even real glasses," the angel replied. "How can I help you today?"
The Devil pointed his palm at Stanley. He said, "Angel Gabriel, this is Stanley. Stanley, Gabriel."
"But not the famous one!" Gabriel chuckled.
Stanley smiled weakly.
"I must say," Gabriel said, "I don't often see a mortal smiling in the presence of the Devil."
"Well," Stanley shrugged, "he's only a demon, really."
Gabriel roared with laughter. "Oh, you sure know how to find 'em, TD." His face suddenly fell solemn. "But really, what can I do for you? I'm busy. I get off in three years if you want to play some pool."
"We'll see," the Devil said. "I accidentally pulled Stanley here through another dimension. He's an innocent guy, mostly. He needs to get home."
"Ah," Gabriel said, pulling a form out of his drawer. "Which time line are you from?"
Stanley and the Devil stared blankly at Gabriel.
"Is he talking to me?" Stanley asked the Devil.
"I don't know."
"I am."
"I don't know," said Stanley.
Gabriel looked towards the Devil imploringly.
"I don't think he is, actually. I had gone into a few other dimensions before I... picked him up."
"Right," Gabriel said, writing things on the form he had pulled out with a huge feather quill. "These are so faffy, they get in the way of writing. But we have to use them up in God. Downstairs they get to use biros, oh how I envy them."
On the form, he circled, 'Off Time Line'.
"Are you currently going to Hell?" he asked.
Stanley shrugged. "I made a bet with a demon."
Gabriel's eyes snapped to the Devil. "You were working off the timeline?"
"I-"
"That's going to need a form," he said mercilessly, pulling one from his desk.
"I'd like to add a personal statement to that one," the Devil said. Gabriel ignored him.
"Well, let's see," Gabriel said, removing his fake spectacles. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Stanley, who fidgeted uncomfortably. He felt a peculiar sensation probing him, something he could only compare to dining with his mother-in-law.
"No, you're not going to Hell," Gabriel said, turning to his form. He looked up briefly. "Well done!"
Stanley smiled faintly. "Great," he said.
"For now," the Devil whispered.
Gabriel completed the rest of the form and put it back in his drawer. He sat back in his chair and linked his hands together on his desk. The Devil turned and sat on the edge of the desk, leaving Stanley standing, a confused look on his face.
"So... what happens to me now?"
Gabriel said, "The form will be read by God and a decision on you will be made."
"God? The God?"
Gabriel frowned. "What? Of course not, there isn't one any more. It'll be read by a democratically elected committee who will enforce the spirit of Heaven and it's laws."
"Oh," said Stanley, who felt foolish for building himself up again. "Then-"
Gabriel silenced Stanley with a raised finger. He reached inside his drawer and pulled out the same form he had put in. On it was stamped in large red print: MORE INFO REQ'D.
Nodding his head, Gabriel said, "God wants to see you."
"I'll take you," the Devil said.
Gabriel said, "Oh, no you won't.  We'll take care of Stanley from here. There's the small matter of this form that needs filling in."
The Devil bit his lip, grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and span it towards him, sitting on it backwards. "Let's talk about that."
"Uh, first things first," Gabriel said. He raised an angelic hand and snapped his fingers. An angel floated over to the desk slowly.
“Peter here will escort you to the God committee.”
The angel apparently called Peter nodded.
“This way,” Peter said, beckoning Stanley to follow him.
As they walked away, Stanley heard the Devil pleading, “Now listen, I was just trying to follow protocol and...”
Peter looked Stanley up and down. “So, what did you do?”
“I made a bet with... a demon and then I fell though some dimensions.”
“Did it hurt?”
“A few times,” Stanley said, his eyes glazing over as he remembered.
“It's been going crazy up here, you know.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, this whole thing with dimensions, well, we knew it would happen eventually but we weren't ready for it at all. It's chaos. Nobody really knows what happens to people like... oh, people like... er... never mind.”
Stanley frowned. “People like what? Me?”
Peter looked at Stanley with visible pity. “Forget I said anything,” he said.
Stanley threw his arms in the air. “How am I supposed to do that?!”
He took a moment to reflect that he was getting angry at an angel in Heaven and that he had lost over two-thirds of the age he had woken up with that morning. He took a deep breath and relaxed.
“Look,” Stanley said, “Just be honest. Do you think they'll send me to Hell? I did make a bet with a demon and everything.”
“Oh, don't worry,” Peter said, waving a hand dismissively. “That's fine. Gambling wins are exempt from sin tax. They go on your record but they don't count against you.”
Stanley raised an eyebrow, something he'd never been able to do before.
“Really? That's pretty... good.”
Peter nodded.
It occurred to Stanley that he had not been so actively social in many years. Before the Devil appeared in his shed, he had met very few people in the years preceding it, something he was only too happy with in his elderly years.
As they walked, he realised how out of practise he was. He’d been quite a charmer back in his day, he mused. Now, here he was, walking along with an angel he’d only just met in silence.
Stanley leapt in. “So, Peter, what do you do around here?”
Peter looked at Stanley with a small grin on his face. “Do you want my actual job title or one you could relate to.”
Stanley thought about this. “Both!” he said, “In that order.”
Peter coughed into his fist and straightened his posture. It pleased Stanley to note that even angels slouch.
“I’m a messenger of God.”
Stanley nodded appreciatively. “That’s quite impressive.”
Peter shrugged. “I’m just a janitor really. I look after things on Earth.”
“Well, it does need a lot of looking after,” Stanley said.
Peter frowned. “It does? It seems to pretty much run itself.”
“What about all the death and famine? And war?”
“Well,” Peter said uncomfortably, “we're working on it. There are lots of new plans to help Earth and stuff and, well, we're trying...”
“Oh,” Stanley said, biting his lip. “I see.”
They emerged from the jungle of desks and stepped into a lift. Peter thumbed one of three available buttons and the lift ascended.
Stanley felt the conversation had already taken an uncomfortable turn. He tried to steer it into a more amicable direction. “If you don’t mind me saying so,” he said, “but you look like quite a young angel. How long have you been working here?”
Peter rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he thought about it. “About two hundred years.”
Stanley almost inhaled his tongue.
“So, not long at all. I’ll be due for a promotion in another couple of hundred years. I can get off shift work then, which I’ll be looking forward to.”
Stanley nodded meekly. “So, how old are you?”
“Three hundred and twenty two, as an angel. My soul is an original, fourteen billion years old! I spent quite a while just enjoying heaven after I died about four hundred years ago, but I missed the satisfaction of working so I applied for God. You should really think about it when you come to Heaven.”
“If,” Stanley corrected, before he could help himself.
“Of course,” Peter said.
The lift reached it’s destination and the doors slid open. A translucent corridor met them, which Stanley found incredibly disconcerting.
Peter stepped out of the lift while Stanley hovered on the threshold, looking through the floor to the Earth below.
“How is this…”
“Try not to think about it,” Peter advised. “And definitely don’t think about the fact we just went up in a lift and underneath us now is Earth, not the floor below.”
Stanley’s head snapped up. “Good idea,” he said quietly.
Stanley followed Peter through the corridors, which had extremely soft floors that Stanley was desperately trying not to consider. Wisps of cloud passed them as they walked.
“Don’t knock the clouds,” Peter warned, “They’re quite important.”
Stanley looked guiltily behind him at the various wisps he’d batted from his path. He decided not to say anything.
Presently, they reached a plain looking door in the wall of cloud. Through the wall Stanley saw nothing but brilliant blue sky and an aeroplane in the distance below them.
Peter knocked.
“Enter!” a voice called.
“Don’t think about this, either.”
Stanley was fully prepared but it still made his heart skip a beat as Peter opened the door to reveal a room on the other side. Stanley looked inside, then peeked through the clouds surrounding the door.
He was satisfied, but that didn’t make him feel better.
“Come in,” a voice said.
“He means you.”
Stanley gulped and stepped inside the room. He’d heard about Judgement Day as a child, but this was as far removed from what he'd been taught as possible.
He was met with panel of angels, who sat looking at him expectantly.
“Have a seat, Stanley,” one of them said.
Stanley quickly sat down before them, folding his hands in his lap. He felt oddly nervous, the kind of nervousness he’d last felt when he was being interviewed for the first job he’d actually wanted.
“Don’t worry,” a female angel said, “You won’t be going to Hell.”
Stanley relaxed a little.
“Unless you’re a cunt.”
Stanley nodded. He appreciated their honesty.
The panel of angels consulted the paperwork laid in front of them and then spoke to Stanley again.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” one of them said, “we’d like to ask you a few personal questions.”
“Of course,” Stanley said.
“Excellent. Do you believe in God?”
Stanley considered this briefly. “Yes,” he hazarded.
“Good. Can you be trusted?”
Stanley had been asked many personal questions over the period of his life, with most of them in recent years being related to his bladder. He was not prepared for questions like this. They seemed almost deceptively simple to answer.
“Yes,” Stanley decided upon.
The angels scribbled a few notes down on some paper .
“You seem like a nice man,” one of the angels said. “It would be a shame for you not to live out your mortal life, especially considering you’ve had the good fortune of regaining your youth.”
Stanley nodded hopefully. He felt a bead of sweat run down his back.
“Our options are, unfortunately, limited, however I feel we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
Stanley fixed his gaze on the angel addressing him, mostly because if he looked at his feet he could see through the floor to the planet spinning slowly beneath him.
“Now, we could just send you to Hell. After all, you wagered your soul in a bet with a demon.”
Stanley spluttered, “But that’s exempt from sin tax!”
The angels regarded him suspiciously. “Where did you learn about sin tax?”
Stanley fidgeted. “I overheard it on my way here. From an angel.”
The angel panel looked at each other.
“Anyway, we’re not going to do that,” the angel continued. “Now, as you may be aware, the universe has recently been branched infinitely thanks to a wormhole opened on Earth.”
Stanley tried to maintain his poker face. “I was aware of something like that, yes.”
“Now, God is all-powerful, but God is not all infinite. It is physically impossible for us maintain a presence in every dimension. So, we have no choice but to abandon the human race in every other dimension.”
Stanley gulped. “Oh dear.”
“Oh dear, indeed. Anyway, that’s the background. Here’s the deal.”
They slid a piece of paper across the table, although Stanley was unsure why, as he was sat too far away to see it.
“We’ll send you back to the one Earth that God is still watching, but we want you to help us.”
“Go on,” Stanley said.
“We want you to be a priest.”
Stanley stared ahead blankly.
“You see, what we’ve been doing so far, well, it’s not working. Earth is a mess and we need to fix things. We think that directly interfering would do more harm than good so we’re taking the subtle approach.”
Stanley thought that their approach had been so subtle thus far that it bordered on the non-existent but he was wise enough not to say it.
“So we’re putting agents in various churches of various religions all over the world to spread a message of peace and understanding.”
“I… see,” said Stanley, who had already spotted a major flaw in their plan. Humans had already tried that themselves.
“And, obviously, we don’t want you telling people the truth about God. We’d prefer you maintained the traditional God in your teachings.”
Stanley nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I can do that.”
“We’ll arrange for some money for you and a church for you to work at, so you don’t need to worry about anything. We’ll issue you a pack which will detail what parts of the Bible we want you to promote and what parts we don’t.”
“There’s parts you don’t like?”
“Of course, it’s a really old book. Anything that promotes non-tolerance shouldn’t be in there, basically. We were very irresponsible in the past.”
Stanley said, “Right, okay.”
“So, it’s a deal?”
“Sure,” Stanley said, who almost felt bad for taking things from angels for what he knew was a pointless cause.
An angel produced a large feather quill and proffered it to Stanley. “Sign.”
Stanley took the feather and awkwardly tried to find a suitable grip.
“Just an ‘X’ will do,” one of the angels said helpfully.
Stanley managed to scribble a wavy X on the contract, the second religious binding contract he’d signed that day.
They took the paper away and filed it in a mysterious drawer where, Stanley presumed, it had moved to a mystical filing room in the sky.
“Excellent. We need some time to prepare so you’ll stay in Heaven as our guest. We apologise for the inconvenience the Devil caused.”
Stanley waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it."
The panel of angels stood up, causing Stanley to hurriedly do the same. They regarded him carefully before saying, “We do not liaise with mortals often. What is your custom relating to the parting of ways after reaching an agreement.”
Stanley’s face didn’t move as he processed the question. Then, he thrust his hand towards them. “We shake hands,” he said.
The angels pushed their hands in front of them and waved them about, before looking at Stanley expectantly.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and quickly shook his hand around in the air, before dropping his hand to his side.
“Goodbye,” the angels said.
“Bye,” Stanley replied. He took a step back, then turned and walked out of the door. Peter was waiting for him outside.
“So, how did it go?” he asked guardedly, wary of the expression on Stanley’s face.
“Oh, it was fine,” Stanley said, “I got a good deal, they’re letting me go back to Earth. They said I get to stay in Heaven for a few days.”
Peter produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “Ah yes,” he said, “You’re staying in the Hotel.”
“There’s a hotel in heaven?”
“Not just that,” Peter explained, “but it begins with a capital H. It’s quite big. You’ll like it. Everybody does. It boasts a wonderful view of the Field of Dreams.”
Peter began to walk off down the cloudy corridor, with Stanley trying to keep up.
“Field of Dreams?”
“Oh, that's really good. You know when you see people in Heaven on television?”
“Er, I think so…”
“You know,” Peter said, “All clouds and harps and halos and all that?”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, a lot of people come to expect that. Television has had a terrible influence. So we had to make this vast cloudy field with anything anyone wants in it because so many people want to see that kind of thing in Heaven.”
“That sounds… weird,” Stanley said, “So you make Heaven to be what people want?”
“Er, yes, of course. People don't change when they get up here. If they want eternal happiness, we have to build it."
“Wow, I never thought it would be like that,” Stanley said.
“What were you expecting? Magic?”
Stanley bit his lip. "I don't really know what I was expecting."
“There’s pretty much anything you can imagine in Heaven, if you want it.”
Stanley tried to conceal a smile. He was going to enjoy his stay here.
They travelled up and down a few more elevators and past a field of desks. Eventually, they reached a large glass door. Outside, it was very sunny.
"You're now leaving God, by the way," Peter said.
Stanley looked behind him. "I see. So is that Heaven outside?"
Peter frowned. "This entire place is Heaven. Out there is just more of it. We have to walk down the Promenade. It's quite touristy, but very tasteful."
"Touristy..." Stanley mused as they stepped out. It was warm out of doors, although the climate did not strike Stanley as anything Heavenly. There was a pleasant breeze and birdsong

drifted lazily through the air. Stanley didn't see any trees.
"Are there birds up here?"
"Oh, yes, but they're quite unusual. They live on the ground in special houses. They're very domesticated. Nothing kills them in Heaven."
"That's nice," Stanley said.
They did the only thing they could do on such a pleasant day in Heaven, which was to stroll. The promenade was a vast cobbled avenue, built on a huge cloud. Alongside it, various buildings offered all manner of information services and places that promised to provide you with all the happiness you wanted. And lots of eateries. It reminded Stanley of Earth, which he should have expected, really, since Heaven was full of human souls.
Ahead of them, they saw a woman holding out her palm. A bird quickly flew onto it and chirped merrily. Stanley felt like he was in a Disney cartoon.
"Interesting fact," Peter continued, "Ninety nine point four percent of Heaven's population finds birdsong nice to listen to. It's by far the most popular thing in terms of how much of Heaven's population it pleases."
"How interesting."
"I told you," Peter said. "Of course, people just think birds are nice, but not exactly enjoyable. They still participate in orgies and go skiing on our artificial mountain. Extreme sports are very popular nowadays, presumably because up here, you can't die doing them."
"Can I try some?" Stanley said.
"Maybe tomorrow," Peter said dismissively. "Don't you want to rest?"
"What time is it?"
"There is no time. However, it is always sunny here, so it can throw off mortals and their body clocks."
"I see," said Stanley, who felt that might have been the most complicated non-answer he’d ever heard.
They walked a little further along the promenade, passing a subtly advertised massage parlour.
“Perhaps I should go to bed,” Stanley said.
“That's probably a good idea. I gather you had a long day.”
“Long and explosive,” Stanley agreed.
Presently, they reached the Hotel. It was a grand four storey affair with ornate stonework painted a pale pink.  Stanley stared up at the Hotel and suddenly yawned deeply.
"I think I've just been running on adrenaline," Stanley said, yawning again.
"Let's get you checked in," Peter suggested.
They stepped inside and were met with a glimmering and eerily echoing marble atrium. Peter marched them straight up to the desk. When he got there, he stared at the angel behind the counter and gave him a stiff nod. The man behind the counter nodded back with equal stiffness and handed a key over.
Without a word, Peter led them away from the reception and up several windy flights of stairs. They stopped short at a door.
"Is this it?" Stanley asked.
"No," said Peter, darkly. "This is the room where Albert Einstein and Mother Teresa first had sex."
Stanley fixed the angel with a meaningful stare.
Peter said, "Can you imagine? Anyway, your room is there. Goodnight."
"Oh, hey," Stanley said to a retreating Peter. "Er..."
"Oh, yeah." Peter threw the door key to Stanley.
"Can we go sightseeing tomorrow?" Stanley asked.
Peter disappeared around a corner and down a staircase. He muttered, "Tourists."
Stanley would have felt a little nervous about being left alone in a strange place with no money but if that was going to happen to him, he was in the very best place for it. Like having a heart attack in a hospital, he thought merrily.
He let himself into the room. It was quite sparsely decorated. Stanley immediately took in the glory of the bed. It really did look like Heaven. Stanley hurried over to it and held his hands out over it, poised. He hesitated and pulled away. He was going to save it.
Something Stanley could only describe as the noise of merriment attracted him to the window. He pulled the curtain aside and gazed upon the Field of Dreams.
The first thing that struck him was the familiarity of it all. Despite what he had been expecting, it really was like adverts on television, everything he'd been led to believe Heaven looked like. Some girls were eating cream cheese on a cloud. A topless fireman was racing through some daffodils, playfully chasing a girl literally screaming in delight.
Stanley gazed out across the vast landscape with wonder. He felt a knot of excitement in his stomach, some vast emotion bubbling up. Stanley shook his head slightly and focused something in the near distance. There were a group of giggling girls who appeared to be having a wet t-shirt competition, just for fun.
Then it hit Stanley like a giant cheesecake. A warm, gooey feeling spread over him. His brain had caught up and processed the mind-blowing fact that everything he was seeing was real, anything he wanted was right here and absolute and utter joy was there before him.
He sighed deeply and staggered onto the bed.
"Oh, my God!" he cried, "I’m so happy I could pass out!"
And he did.

* * *

Stanley awoke early the next morning.
He judged this to be the case because he really did not want to be awake, but the hammering on the door left him little choice.
"Yes, what?" Stanley said, having never before in his life been so loathe to leave the comfort of the bed he was in. He felt almost scared of the furniture and the seductive powers it held over him.
"Get up, we're going." It was Peter.
"Oh, great," Stanley said, who felt there should be some kind of law against this kind of thing in Heaven. He pulled a little at the clothes he'd slept in, before sniffing them a little. He quickly decided against any further action and pulled the door open.
Peter was stood in the door frame, staring down at Stanley, who shrank a little under the unexpected gaze.
"Have you got your room key?" Peter asked.
Stanley groped around nervously on a small table, keeping his eyes fixed on Peter's.
"Got 'em!" Stanley said, dangling them in front him. He grinned shakily and shrank behind them.
Peter nodded, turned and began to walk off.
Stanley quickly pulled the door closed behind him and locked it. He set his face into a stern expression and nodded slowly. It was something he was going to have to work on. He quickly scurried off after Peter, who was surprisingly evasive for a guide.
After he caught up with Peter on the stairs, Stanley said, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
The angel ahead of him stopped and turned. He said, with a tone that expressed a comprehension of time orders of magnitude beyond Stanley's, "Yes." Then he turned and marched off.
Stanley barely hesitated before continuing after him. He was getting used to angels, he thought. Well, sort of.
He awkwardly dodged the feathers that Peter had dropped from his wings. He wasn't sure if he could walk on them or even whether he should tell him. It might be like having ones trousers unzipped, although angels wore trousers too.
Stanley was gripped with that sheer panic of having no understanding of the social conventions of his current location. He was without a friendly guide and in a place he was quite sure hadn't existed just a day ago. And now he was desperately trying not to let on that Peter's wings were dropping feathers.
This terrified dance continued for sometime as the stairs wound down to the ground floor. Stanley, who was overcome with curiosity stooped to pick a feather.
"Don't touch that," Peter said sharply.
Stanley shot bolt upright, something he was thankful his malleable new spine could handle.
Peter stopped outside another door in the hotel. He turned slowly to stare at Stanley, who took one look at his face and started shaking his head.
"Oh no, not more of your sordid anecdotes. I don’t want to know who had sex in there, okay?”
Peter's gaze darkened. Angels, Stanley reflected, can be pretty scary. "Stanley, this isn't a joke. This is serious, okay? Don't act like a prick. You'll make us both look stupid."
Stanley nodded. When Peter turned to open the door, Stanley gulped. He was sure that Peter could have heard the almost comical noise he made but he felt better for not doing it right in front of him.
Peter stepped into the room and Stanley followed.
The first thing that struck Stanley was a large booklet a female angel threw at him from across the room.
He caught it clumsily and not before the bound corner of the booklet stabbed into his chest. He managed not to make a noise but he was sure his eyes rolled in opposite directions.
"Read it," the angel said, tying a ponytail in her hair. "That's everything you'll need to be teaching as a priest for us. Lots of nice stuff, a bit of law abiding and helping the poor and all that."
"Right," said Stanley, hoping she didn't mean that he should read it straight away. It was quite a hefty tome. He clutched the booklet to his chest, trying to rub the spot the booklet had hit him.
"I'll run you thought you new life when we arrive. Now, listen Stanley."
Stanley stopped rubbing his chest and listened.
"We're inserting you back into the main timeline. Since you were from outside the main timeline, that means there's another old you walking around down there." The angel glared at him to make sure he was listening.
Stanley said, “He’s probably sat down, actually.”
"Whatever," the angel said. She thrust out a hand. "The name is Grace."
Stanley nodded slowly, before shaking it. "Stanley."
"I know."
"Oh."
Peter turned and caught Stanley glancing at him. "I know what you're thinking," he said.
"You do?" Stanley replied, who was wondering if you could bleed to death in Heaven.
"And the answer is no!" Peter said loudly.
Stanley was relieved, although a little concerned at the same time.
Peter continued, "You absolutely cannot go and visit your old self. We'll be locating you in a village on the other side of England. You're not to go and try and find yourself, got it?"
"What happens if-"
Peter raised his eyebrows in a way that suggested very unangelic things.
"Got it," Stanley said weakly. He looked across the room and saw Grace flash him a quick smile.
Stanley’s young body produced hormones that had not had to deal with for years.
"Let's go," Grace said.
As they left the Hotel, Stanley looked out across to the Field.
"Are we not going sightseeing then?" Stanley asked hopefully.
Grace rolled her eyes. "Tourists," she said.
"Indeed," Peter said, with a much sourer tone.
Stanley sighed as he realised he'd be leaving the Fields without having ever frolicking upon them. Still, he thought, he had a fair chance of getting back.
"I was wondering," Stanley said, "What are the rules on pre-marital sex?"
Peter turned to Stanley. "Listen, Stan," he said. Stan hated being called Stan. "God is doing you a big favour here. You were off the original time line. You're very lucky to have been picked up, bought here alive and sent back out there into a world with God watching over it."
"I thought God was supposed to be merciful, though."
"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away," Peter replied.
Grace grinned at Stanley as they strolled down the promenade. "Casual sex is fine, by the way."
Stanley stared into the back of her head and blushed, until he realised what she meant.
"Really? Even as a priest?"
"Well, set a good example, but sure. Sex before marriage was quite an old thing. After the end of the Old Testament, when JC ran the show, he made a lot of radical changes and sex, it turned out, was something mortals enjoyed very much on Earth. something we sort of didn't realise up here, where everything is great."
Stanley nodded slowly. "No need to rub it in."
"So we stopped punishing people for it."
"You know that on Earth a lot of people don't agree with sex before marriage, right?"
Grace shrugged. "We're working on it."
Stanley was warming up to the idea of his new messenger from Heaven role, especially if he was to be a missionary of casual sex. He made a note to use that pun before he left Heaven.
"Any more questions?" Peter asked.
"So many," Stanley replied.
"Shoot," Grace said.
"Okay. Er, can I come back to Heaven at any time?"
"No."
"Can I talk to an angel whenever I like?"
"No."
"Can I have a phone like the Devil?"
"No."
"Erm..."
“Can I meet Jesus?”
Grace raised her eyebrows. “Sadly, no, he's, er, in hiding.”
“Jesus is hiding?”
“He's living on Earth somewhere. He just disappeared a few hundred years after he was crucified. It said he wasn't going to come back until everybody stopped using the crucifix symbol. That's something else in the handbook. No crucifixes.”
“I see.”
They reached the end of the promenade and faced a large empty doorway with the word 'Earth' written above it on a gold plaque. There was a heavy set angel stood in front of it.
"Where are you going?" he asked as they approached.
"England," Peter said.
The door angel nodded towards Stanley. "Is he going with you?"
"Yes."
"Is he coming back this way because I'll need to stamp his hand if that's the case. I can't just let anyone back in, you know, this is a staff entrance."
"No, he's not coming back," Peter said.
The door angel smiled sympathetically at Stanley. "Tough break, son."
"It's alright," he shrugged, although the more he thought about it, the more he was going to miss it.
"He's pretty lucky actually," Peter said, "yesterday he used to be eighty."
"Hey, nice one," the door angel said. "Find the Elixir of Youth, did you?"
"The what?"
"We've got to go," Peter said hurriedly, pulling Stanley through the doorway. He gave the door angel a glare as he left.
Through the doorway, Stanley said, "So how do we-"
There was a faint sucking sound as the universe disappeared around them and enveloped them in a bright but not glaring whiteness.
"This is... interesting," Stanley said, looking around.
Peter folded his arms. "It really isn't," he said.
The Earth rushed up to meet them, something that Stanley thought would have probably given him a heart attack not long ago. Despite no sensation of moving, they landed with a slight bump on the planet's surface.
Stanley looked around. It was dark and windy. He wrapped his arms around himself.
"I miss Heaven," he said.
"If you're good you can come back. But no suicide," Peter warned.
Peter walked away from the group to inspect their surroundings. Then he pulled a device out of his pocket and attempted to get a GPS signal.
"You can if you want," Grace said, "suicide is actually not one of the Hell-worthy sins. Unfortunately it's the best way for many people to be happy. It's in the handbook."
Stanley's eyes suddenly had a hunted look. Grace picked up on it immediately. "Where's the handbook?"
"Er," he said.
"You left it in Heaven?!" she whispered, while doing her best to shout at the same time.
"Sorry!" he said.
"Don't tell Peter, alright?" she said.
As if he had been summoned, Peter floated over to them. "I've found the church, let's go."
They walked off down the street and turned a corner. The rain was subsiding, but the wind was becoming bitterly cold.
"What is that?" Stanley asked of the handheld device Peter was navigating with.
"Military technology. We stole it from the Japanese. It works very well for situations like this.
Stanley nodded appreciatively. He knew little of technology but was easily impressed with stolen military hardware. He possessed, or rather, he used to possess a rather varied collection himself.
Stanley did not recognise where he was, but it was unmistakably England, which was good. He wondered how far away from his elderly self he was.
They turned down a few more streets and stopped outside a grey building nestled in between some shops.
“This is it,” Peter said.
A tramp coughed viscerally in the doorway. “This is what?” he croaked.
“My church?” Stanley asked. It wasn’t as good as the last one he’d seen.
“Yes,” Peter said.
“Ah!” exclaimed the tramp. “So yer a… yerra priest, eh?”
Stanley looked slowly towards Grace, who nodded solemnly.
“Yes, I am,” he said, “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? He can come in, right? You’ve got the keys I’m assuming.”
Grace fished them out of her pocket and jangled them. The tramp staggered out of the way as she unlocked Stanley’s new home and workplace.
Inside, Stanley looked around. It was spacious and clean, if a little minimal.
“Feel free to decorate,” Grace said.
“I might,” Stanley said, a little disappointed chapel didn’t even have any stained glass.
They made their way to the living area, which was sealed off from the main chapel by a red satin curtain. Stanley made a note to rip it down as soon as the angels were gone.
“Can I havva cuppa?” he grunted, spotting the kettle.
“I'll make you a cup of tea,” Peter said. Stanley and Grace proceeded through the kitchen and upstairs. As they left, the tramp queried the availability of a biscuit.
Upstairs, Grace opened a door for Stanley. “This is your bedroom,” she said.
Stanley wandered in and nodded approvingly. Something on the floor caught his eye.
“Who’s is that suitcase?” he asked.
“Ah,” Grace said. “I meant to hang those clothes up.”
“Is someone else living here?” Stanley asked.
Grace shuffled her feet. “Well, no. In order to get you this place we’ve, well, we’ve stolen someone’s identity for you. A vicar transferred here from out of town. We intercepted him and now you are the vicar.”
“What happened to the actual one?”
“He was extended an invitation to move to Heaven early.”
“You killed him?!” Stanley gasped. He calmed down quickly. “Lucky guy.”
Grace walked towards a small table. She picked up some papers and said, “You are now Theodore Price. Hi, Theo.”
They quickly shook hands.
“Your life and personal details are all on there,” Grace said, pointing to the table. “I suppose we’ll have to send you another copy of your priestly duties. In the meantime, well, do some research.”
Stanley nodded. He began to feel nervous. He really did have no idea of how to a priest, especially since he’d forgotten to bring the handbook God gave him.
Grace said, “We’ll check up on you in a few years. Be good!”
“Wait,” Stanley said, “This is it? I’m just being dumped here? Also, a few years?!”
Grace turned to face Stanley. “You could go back to a God-less dimension. Or you could be old again. Or in Hell.”
“Well, I suppose I could, but… what am I going to do?”
“Spread the word of God, what else? It’s easy, really. Just make sure you’re open on Sundays.”
Stanley frowned. “I thought the Sabbath was the day of rest.”
“It is.”
“So how come all God’s messengers have to work on that day?”
Grace gave him a withering look. “Because everybody else is resting, alright?”
She started walking towards the door.
Stanley began to panic. “But I don’t have the right clothes!”
“There’s some clothes in that suitcase. And they fit. I’ve checked.”
Stanley felt repulsed on many levels. “Gross,” he said. “I’m not wearing a dead man’s clothes!”
“Excessive waste is another sin you will be teaching about,” Grace chided him.
“Practise what you preach,” Peter said behind her.
Behind him, the beggar said, “Ah, this is a loveleh cuppa, noice wun.”
Stanley shook his head slowly. “I hate axioms.”
Peter leaned around the corner and said, “Love is just hate with it’s back turned.”
“Alright!” Stanley cried, “Get out of my church!”
They did as he asked, even the beggar, who perplexingly enough had somewhere to be, even though he didn't have anywhere to even live.
Stanley was alone in his church. He sat in the chapel and stared up at the crucifix that was attached to the wall. He would have to pay some people to take it down, which would be quite weird.
So, he thought, I suppose I'm a born again Christian now. I don't think I'll quite fit in with all the other born-agains.
He thought about Heaven and missed it dearly, however he knew he had another chance at leading a good life back on Earth. He was young, had money, somewhere to live and he knew, deep down in his heart that somewhere up there, in the Heavens, someone was going to be looking out for him in a few years time. Stanley was immensely relaxed.
In his previous life, he had worried about money and health. Now, he knew that, no matter what life threw at him, Heaven would be waiting if he was good. He wondered why, if God wanted more people to be nice, they didn't show people Heaven before they were born. It would have been a great motivator. He made a note to tell someone that when he was next in Heaven.
Stanley fidgeted on the hard wooden pews. He made a note to get some comfier seats, too.
He found a few cushions and sat awkwardly on them. The endless possibilities of what his new life could be like unfolded in front of him. Anything he could want really was at his fingertips and, with the wealth of knowledge he acquired from his previous eighty years, he would have every chance of getting it.
Stanley sighed and stood up slowly, before ambling off to see if the church had a fridge and a TV.