Surrounded by his three children and his teary-eyed wife of over half a century, 88-year-old Ray McDonald quietly slipped away. As deaths went it was a peaceful one, with no beeping machines, no interrupting hospital staff, and with all the lights off in soothing, semi-darkness. Ray McDonald, much-loved by his friends, colleagues, and family, was gone.

When he became conscious of his surroundings again, it almost seemed like he was floating. Remarkably, he could walk again, or he at least seemed upright, anyway.

"Come with me, Ray," said a man in an all-white outfit, complete with fluffy, high-backed angel wings. Around them, smokey fog billowed as they made their way to a plain white door with a round, steel doorknob.

"Where are we?" asked Ray as he felt himself ushered along by an unseen force. He still wasn't sure if he was walking or gliding.

"This is what you might call purgatory, Ray," said the man with the wings. "Come – all will be explained."

Purgatory. What did he know about purgatory? Ray McDonald wasn't a particularly religious man, although he had never ruled out the possibility of an afterlife and had lived his life accordingly, despite the temptations of the flesh.

Angel man opened the door, and Ray found himself in what looked for all the world like a regular, earthly office, albeit a sparsely furnished one. As the man in white closed the door, the swirling fog all around them dissipated, and Ray saw that he was, indeed, walking once again.

"Have a seat," said the man with wings as Ray looked all around, trying to figure out what was going on. He watched as the man removed his white suit coat, then lifted his wings off like a pair of shoulder pads and placed them on the floor.

"Those aren't real?" asked Ray.

"No, they're just for effect," said the man, who still was dressed all in white. "Same with the fog. It's just dry ice, actually," he added as he stepped around behind the desk. "Please … sit."

"What's going on?" asked Ray as he took his seat opposite the man in the office's lone guest chair.

"Well, you know you're dead, right?" asked the man in white. "Gone. Kaput. Toast. You get that, right?"

"That's about the only thing I know right now," replied Ray. "But who are you?"

"Not important," said the man dismissively. "Let's just say that I work for the Big Guy and leave it at that."

"The big Big Guy?" inquired Ray.

"The biggest," replied the man in white.

"Is he real?"

"Oh, very much so. Don't you believe?" the man asked with a surprised expression.

"Oh, of course," replied Ray.

"Hmmm," came the man's skeptical reply as he pulled out a note pad and jotted down a line.

"What's that for?" asked Ray nervously.

"Just taking notes," answered the man. "Anything you say could be used against you."

"It could?" asked the recently deceased.

The man in white didn't speak, but he nodded his head toward the ceiling, pointing with his eyes.

"Am I on the fence?" pressed Ray. His brain seemed clearer and sharper than it had been in years.

"Yup," came the reply.

"Could go either way then?"

"We get a lot of close calls."

"How do you decide?"

"We do these interviews, of course."

"Is that what we're doing right now?"

"As soon as you turn the questioning over to me."

"How many bad answers do I get before it's all over?" asked Ray while making a cutting motion across his neck with his hand.

"Can't tell you that," replied the man.

"I guess I'm ready then," said Ray.

"Good," said the man in white. "Let's get started."

"Raymond Alan McDonald. Born September 22, 1933. Infantryman, Korean Conflict, 1952-53. Married Dolores, 1956. Three kids: Ray, Jr., Linda, and Peter. Plant worker, Mantoc Corporation, later Eledyne. 36-year member of the Kiwanis Club. Avid bridge player. Bowler. Fisherman. Pedophile. Boylover."

"Uh, um, wait a second," said Ray. "Those last two … "

"Oh, come on, Ray," interrupted the man in white. "Remember who you're talking to. There are no secrets here."

"Yeah, but … I was married," said Ray. "I never did anything."

"But you don't deny having the thoughts, do you?" pressed the man. "Cute little boys. Even the occasional little girl. It's part of who you are, isn't it?"

"I won't say that I didn't look," Ray confided. "But I never touched. Not once."

"But you wanted to, right?"

"Not- not really."

"Oh?" said the man in white. "What about Jamie Louden?"

Ray looked puzzled for a moment, then his eyes went wide.

"From Ballard Street?" he asked.

"Of course," said the man in white.

"But that was over 40 years ago."

"You lusted over him."

"I never touched that boy."

"But you wanted to, Ray," replied the man. "Isn't that right?"

"I- I admit I wanted to."

"Because you found him adorable. You were attracted to him. Physically. Sexually."

"He was … " said Ray, as his voice trailed off. "He was beautiful."

"Of course he was," said the man in white. "We put him there for you."

"We? What do you mean?"

"I should say Him. The Big Guy."

"The Big Guy?" repeated Ray.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways."

"He put that boy there for me? Why?"

"To tempt you, of course."

"But why?" asked Ray.

"To test you," came the response. "You of course remember Max Garner?"

"Michael's boy?"

"The one and only," said the man. "You lusted after him, too. All those fishing trips."

"Was he there to tempt me?"

"Of course he was."

"I didn't touch him, either," said Ray. "I admit I wanted to," he confessed. "It was hard sometimes."

"You wanted to touch Jamie and Max, didn't you?"

"Yes," sighed Ray. "Yes, yes, yes."

"In fact, by our informal count, you have lusted over 116,497 boys in person, 186,115 boys in photographs, drawings, and sculptures, and 1,118 boys in movies and videos," said the man in white. "Do you agree?"

"I didn't keep count."

"Does it seem about right?"

"It seems high."

"You first began lusting after boys when you were 13, correct?" asked the man.

"Seventh into eighth grade was when I knew," admitted Ray.

"So give or take 75 years?"

"It never left me. I tried."

"You tried to stop lusting after them?"

"In my head I tried. I never touched them. I loved my wife. I loved my kids. Doesn't that count for something, that I never gave in to my urges?"

"It counts for a lot, Ray," said the man in white. "That's why you're here."

"But it sounds like it could still go either way."

"You mean you like little girls, too?"

"No, I mean it sounds like you're on the fence about me."

"Not true," said the man in white.

"So, I'm in?"

"You wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"But I thought you said this was purgatory."

"That's just what I call it sometimes. It's more like an audition than anything else."

"An audition for what?" asked Ray.

"For your reward?"

"What reward?"

"Your heavenly reward, of course. For living a good life."

"But I'm confused. What about the things we were talking about?"

"About boys?" asked the man. "Did you ever hurt one?"

"No, I swear."

"Please don't swear, Ray. Remember where you are."

"I'm not sure where I am."

"You're in Heaven. The Pearly Gates. That's why I go with the wings and fog and stuff."

"I'm so confused," confided Ray. "But if I'm already here and I'm already in, why the interview?"

"For your reward. That's all."

"What is it?"

"That's why we're talking. What would you like it to be?"

"Eternal peace?"

"Ray, come on. Eternal peace? Really? Do you know how boring that would be?"

"What then?"

"Use your imagination."

"I have no idea."

"Of course you do. What were we just talking about?"

"Was it … boys?"

"Bingo!" exclaimed the man in white. "Boys. You've loved boys your entire adult life, haven't you?"

"I guess so," confessed Ray. "But I never touched one."

"Would you like to?"

"I sense a trick question," replied Ray. "Is there a trap door here to send me to the other place?"

"Not at all," said the man in white with a shake of his head. "Once you're in, you're in."

"Nice, but I think I'd be even less likely to try something here than I was before," said Ray. "You know, it would just be weird and all."

"No need to worry about that, Ray. In fact, we encourage it."

"You encourage what?"

"Enjoying yourself with the boys."

"How is that nice for them?"

"It isn't," said the man. "That's the point."

"I don't get it," said Ray. "I'm hopelessly confused."

"You can't touch the ones who are here on their own, but we have loaners you can use."

"Loaners?"

"It's complicated, but that's the best way to describe them," said the man in white.

"On loan from where?"

"Down there," said the man as he pointed to the floor. "Think trap doors."

"Down … you mean?" asked Ray as his eyes went wide.

"I very much do," the man confirmed.

"I didn't think kids got sent there," said Ray. "You know. No free will, brains aren't fully developed, that kind of thing."

"Most don't, for the reasons you just mentioned," confirmed the man in white. "With rare exceptions."

"Are the exceptions the loaners?"

"Not usually. The loaners aren't actually boys, which is a lot of the point. They're actually adults – men to be exact."

"I'm not into men," said Ray with a shake of his head.

"Oh, I know that," said the man dismissively. "I checked your profile."

"Then why are you offering?" asked Ray. "I think I'll take eternal peace if that's still on the table."

"Let me try to explain," said the man. "Here – take a look at him," he added as he snapped his fingers and a man of about 35 years of age suddenly appeared off to the left side of the desk. He had brown hair, a cheesy moustache, and was about 25 pounds overweight. He was stark naked as he stood there with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Oh, geez, no," said Ray as he looked away in disgust. "I'll take eternal peace."

"Fear not, Ray," said the man. "See that dial on the desk?"

"What dial?" asked Ray as he looked up at the man partially dressed in a white-linen suit while making every effort not to look at the man standing to the side in his birthday suit. Sure enough, there was a big, circular dial about 4" [10cm] in diameter seemingly built into the desk.

"Was that here before?" queried Ray.

"Give it a try," said the man while ignoring Ray's question.

"What does it do?"

"Just try it."

"Does it open the trap door if I do?"

"I have other appointments, Ray," said the man. "You're not the only person who died today."

"Ok – fine," said Ray, who still hadn't looked at the naked man. Nor had naked man moved from his spot.

Ray twisted the dial, first counterclockwise, then clockwise. Just as he was about to ask the man in white what the dial was supposed to do, he sensed movement to his right where the naked man was standing. When Ray looked over, the man seemed to have aged 10 years and was now sporting a moustache and goatee.

"What the … " said Ray as his voice trailed off. He turned the dial to the right some more. As he did so, the man seemed to age another 10 years. He now looked 55 years old, with a full moustache and beard, but no longer any hair on the top of his head, where it appeared to have been shaved smooth.

"Holy sh-"

"Woah – remember where you are," interrupted the man in white. "And why are you making him older? Turn it the other way."

Ray was only too happy to oblige. He kept his eyes on the man as he slowly turned the dial back to the left, watching as the years seemed to fall off the man. 50 … 45 … 40 … 38 … 32 … 29 … 24 … 22 … 19 … 16…

Ray stopped turning the dial. "Am I going to get in trouble?" he asked.

"None whatsoever," confirmed the man in white.

"No trap doors?"

"No trap doors."

Ray turned the dial more slowly now. 15 … 14 … 13 … 12.

"Wow," said Ray in a whispered voice as the man-now-boy's pubic hair disappeared, leaving him smooth and hairless below his eyebrows. The man-boy still hadn't moved.

"Keep going, Ray," encouraged the man. "You know you want to."

11 … 10 … 9.

"Oh, wow," said Ray with a little shiver. "He's beautiful."

"Beautiful in body, yes," confirmed the man in white. "Not so beautiful in mind."

"What did he do?" asked Ray as he tweaked the dial a bit more to the left. 8 … 7.

"You're looking at Cyrus Tomes," replied the man in white. "At the age of 35, he abducted a nine-year-old boy by the name of Andy Wallace, took him to an old factory, raped him several times and tortured him over the course of five hours, and then strangled him and threw him in a pond. A fisherman found the boy's body three days later."

"Woah," said Ray. "He killed a little kid?"

"He raped him first."

"I got that part," said Ray. "So why is he here?"

"He's on loan."

"From the other place?"

"You've got it," said the man in white with a smile. Even his teeth were white.

"How does that work?"

"Our Big Guy and their front man talk sometimes. They don't agree on much, but they did on the loaner program."

"I'm still confused."

"There's nothing to be confused about. Cyrus is your reward, or part of it, anyway."

"I have no idea what you mean," said Ray.

"It means you can take Cyrus and have your way with him. You do find him attractive, don't you? I see you moved that dial pretty far to the left, Ray."

"He's cute," confided Ray as he turned the dial a little bit back to the right. 8 … 9 … 10 … 11. "But isn't that bad?"

"Not at all," replied the man. "Cyrus needs eternal torment, and you're entitled to your reward. Fate and the Big Guy have brought you two together."

"Even with the Big Guy's permission, I don't think I can do that," said Ray dejectedly.

"Hogwash!" said the man in white. "You've wanted to your whole life."

"Yes, I have, but … "

"Is there something else you want to tell me, Ray?" interrupted the man in white. "Something you think I don't already know, perhaps?"

"Oh, do you know about that too?" asked Ray sheepishly.

"Of course I know about that. What did you think?"

"I spent my life entire fighting it."

"And successfully, too, or you wouldn't be here," said the man in white, "but you thought about it 105,492 different times, Ray. Some pretty sick stuff, too, I might add."

"That many?" replied Ray. He looked embarrassed.

"To the individual fantasy," said the man. "And that's an exact count. It includes the one from last Tuesday about that boy from your time in Korea. That was your very last earthly boy fantasy before you croaked, wasn't it Ray?"

"You even know about that?" said Ray with a shake of his head.

"Of course," said the man dismissively. "It was a pretty shocking one, too. But here's the thing, Ray: The Big Guy wants you to have your reward."

"I know I thought about it a lot, but I can't really hurt a boy, even if I know he's going to grow up to be a killer. I just can't do it."

"Oh, I think you can, Ray. And Cyrus here isn't exactly a boy. Do me a favor and push the button in the center of the dial."

Ray pushed the button, and Cyrus instantly became 35 years old again. He looked exactly as he did when he first appeared.

"That's Cyrus at the age of 35 years, seven months, and 19 days," said the man in white. "That's exactly how old he was when he raped and killed Andy Wallace."

"Yeah, but I'm still not interested in men."

"Go ahead and dial Cyrus back to the age you most like, Ray."

"Okay, fine, but I'm still not interested in what you're offering."

Ray turned the dial sharply to the left, then slower, and slower. 14 … 13 … 12 … 11 … 10. He paused it on Cyrus at age 10, then turned it a tiny bit more to the left, and then a little bit more until Cyrus looked a young 10, or maybe a 9.

"He's pretty cute right there," confessed Ray.

"Isn't he?" agreed the man. "But here's the thing, Ray – he may look like a boy of about 10, but the mind trapped inside that gorgeous, smooth little body is exactly 35 years, seven months, and 19 days old."

"How is that possible?" asked Ray.

"That's his penance, Ray. Cyrus Tomes is here to be punished, over, and over, and over again for what he did to Andy Wallace."

"That's not possible," Ray objected.

"Oh, it's more than possible," declared the man in white. "Cyrus already has been murdered 1,718 times, with over 900 of those by slow strangulation. He's been raped 4,219 times, sexually tortured 5,440 times, and beaten 15,008 times. And he's just getting started. That's only the very beginning of his torment."

"How long does he have to do it?"

"Eternity, Ray. By the way, did you know that Cyrus was born in 1907?"

"Woah," said Ray.

"He raped and killed Andy Wallace in 1942. Andy's father was in the Marine Corps getting ready to do some island-hopping when he received word that his only son had been abducted and killed. How does that make you feel?"

Ray suddenly sat up straighter in his seat as his eyes went wide.

"Wait a second," he said. "Where was that? Where was that boy killed?"

"Tacoma, Washington, Ray," said the man in white.

"No," said Ray as his face paled.

"Yes," said the man with a nod. "Do you remember now?"

"That kid was my age," said Ray. "All our mothers were terrified. I couldn't go anywhere alone for months."

"And that case was never solved, was it Ray?"

"No, they never caught the guy."

"No, they never did," said the man in white. "But we knew all along. We were waiting for Cyrus. He died in 1977."

"Oh my god."

"Exactly, Ray."

"So I can … have him?"

"Over and over until you get tired of having him."

"What then?"

"I'll get you another. We have a lot of men like Cyrus Tomes on loan."

"How long do I have with him?"

"Eternity, Ray. You can have him every day, any age. Just choose your favorite age on the dial."

"Are there any … limits? I mean, what I can do to him?"

"The only limit is your imagination, Ray. We want you to be creative. After all, Cyrus has been hurt and tortured plenty of times before. We don't want him to get complacent while he's suffering."

"You promise he's not a little kid? He just looks like one?"

"I promise you that Cyrus Tomes is and at all times will be 35 years, seven months, and 19 days old. No matter how old he looks, that's how old he is and thinks. If you set him to nine years old, he'll feel pain and fear like a small child, but he'll be a 35-year-old man as he experiences it.

"And if I … if I kill him?"

"He comes right back for more, Ray. You just start all over – although it's much more fun to prolong things, don't you think?"

"It um, it … might be," replied Ray. "Where can I take him?"

"Your choice," said the man in white. "A lot of men choose the abandoned factory where he took Andy Wallace, but wherever you'd like to go is fine. You won't be interrupted, that I can assure you."

"And I won't get in trouble with the Big Guy?"

"On the contrary, he'll be quite pleased. Andy was one of his creations, you know."

"I don't have any … stuff. You know. Stuff to … use on him."

"Oh, you mean that stuff?" said the man in white dismissively. He snapped his fingers and the entire 20' [6m] long by 10' [3m] high wall to the right of his desk opposite where Cyrus was standing instantly was full of whips, chains, leashes, belts, floggers, knives, hammers, dildos, saws, straps, collars, shackles, cuffs, and other implements of torture and pain hanging from hooks and resting on wall-mounted shelves.

"You've fantasized about this, haven't you Ray?" asked the man in white.

"Yes," whispered Ray. "But I never acted on it."

"That's why you're here, Ray. But now we need you. The Big Guy needs you. The guy downstairs needs you. And Andy Wallace needs you, Ray. Can you do it for Andy?"

"I think so," said Ray. "I mean, it may take me a few times before I get the hang of it, but I think I can do it."

"Attaboy, Ray," said the man in white with a smile. "I like your spirit. And when you get tired of Cyrus, just say the word. There's plenty more where he came from. We just got a new loaner who killed two little boys in Spain in 1607. They were brothers, Ray. Raped them both several times and slowly roasted them to death over a fire because their father owed him money. The Big Guy wasn't pleased."

"I feel like pinching myself," said Ray. "Is this real? No trap doors?"

"No trap doors," replied the man in white. "Welcome to Heaven."

The End