in his plan to
modernize Hell.

Apparently, old Mulciber had done a bang-up job, and Nick roared in
laughter at evidences of the engineer's genius and those of wily
Belial, the handsome court wag. The Propaganda Chief had added
advertising at numerous new roadhouses along the way, and unwary
shades traveling hellward gazed at beautiful scenes of lush vegetation
instead of a dreary expanse like the Texas Panhandle. This "devilish
cantraip sleight" also changed the raw Chaos climate to a steady 72 deg.F
and gave off a balmy fragrance of fruits and flowers.

Ten thousand drachmas, a fictitious unit of currency established by
foxy old Mammon, was the flat fee for use of the road. Blissfully
unaware of this "Transportation Charge," or how it would be paid,
numerous phantom pilgrims were sliding down the steeper hills--and
having a swell time. Their shouts of glee reached Nick's largish ears
despite the lack of air as mortals know it. Clever old Mulcie had
installed freezing plants here and there to surface the road with
glare ice.

Nick poised above a party of phantom men and girls sliding downhill on
their _derrieres_ and ending in a heap at the bottom. A nice change
from traveling under their own power. Their maximum speed while swift
and incomprehensible to mortals, seemed relatively slow to one of
Hell's old timers. Only Nick and his best scout, Cletus, could move at
thought speed--"Click-Click Transportation."

Drifting on, a pleased smile on his red, bony face, Nick paused
several times to read Belial's welcomings.

"Die and see the original Naples in all its natural beauty," said one
sign. "Try our hot sulphur springs and become a new soul." Gayest
pleasures were promised to all and golfers had special attention.
"Register with the pro at your favorite golf club so you can qualify.
No charge for pro's services who'll teach you to break 80. Free lunch
and drinks at all Nineteenth Holes."

No fool shade would wonder what he'd qualify for, nor suspect he'd
have to shovel eighty million tons of coal and ashes before his
handicap would be lowered enough to earn him a set of golf clubs or
that the free lunch and drinks were chunks of brimstone, the
sulphurous air and Styx River water which is always just below boiling
point at 3,000 deg.F.

Hell's thousand of new golf courses, gambling joints and bars would be
available only after downtrodden souls had worked a millennia or two
at common labor jobs. A shady deal,