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The door hisses cool air as you walk through it.

“You have arrived. Welcome to heaven,” the voice says.

You find your hands dipped into the water and when you take them out, you see water everywhere. The sky is full white with no traces of clouds and there's no air movement.

“I shouldn't die. I want to go back,” you say.

“Are you not happy?” the voice asks.

“No, I am not happy. How can I? I have a family. My wife and my children." You look around the lifeless, white sky and stare at the water. There's no reflection of your face. "I am not even old. I had so much to do, all my dreams and my goals, all are unfulfilled. I won’t see—”

“Would you like to be happy?” the voice interrupts.

“Yes, yes, I would like that very much,” you say, “also, I want the people who loved me to be happy, on Earth. I want my family to be at peace. I want them to—”

“Don’t worry about them."

“This is so unfair. I totally don’t deserve this—”

“There is a happiness machine here,” the voice says, without any pauses, without waiting for you to finish, as if it just wants to rush things.

“What’s that?”

“The machine designed to make you happy about your life. I have to take you there now.”

You start walking ahead. There is no one to follow or any marked direction in particular, but your legs move forward as if they had been here before and knew the way. As you walk, you start to see your reflection on the water.

“I am finished, right? I died. I didn’t want to die. I shouldn't die at all. I had so many desires. All my experiences, all the things I did, all my thinking, my history, my pleasures, it all meant nothing. I wonder what was all that for? You just wanted me to suffer. You want all the people to suffer just for the sake of your fun.”

“I am afraid you’re asking me the meaning of life, aren’t you?”

“Yes”

“You will get the meaning of life after you visit the happiness machine.”

You keep walking. The water doesn't flow but it is cold. The land beneath your feet doesn't feel like sand but it's solid and coarse.

A faint door-frame starts to appear in front of you. As you reach closer, you see a tag at the top, with text written in big handwriting, “The Happiness Machine”

The door hisses cool air as you walk through it.

Inside, there is no wall and the water is uncut. The sky is still white. There isn't even a perimeter to mark some area. There is a chair in front of you. You sit on it and in front of you appears a table and on the table, there is a small screen. Something like a CRT Television monitor. It starts playing.

You see yourself there, aged 19. You move out of the city and start to live alone— something you wanted to do but didn’t have the courage. You keep watching. Some time passes and the TV is still playing. Now you see yourself entering a bar. You keep watching. Alcohol surrounds you. A needle is injected into your arm and it is revealed that you yourself injected it. You are an addict on TV. You fight with other people. You keep watching. You steal— you are being arrested. You die at the age of 22, in a bike accident. You were drunk that night and you hit your motorcycle onto a skidding truck.

Then the screen goes static and comes back to life.

You see yourself confessing your feelings to the girl you worked with on your first job. Which you didn’t do in real life, but still sometimes think about. On the TV, she accepts. She says she has been liking you too. You keep watching. You move in together. The girl is good at first, but later, she turns out to be a lot different than you imagined. She is revealed to be a narcissist, someone who never accepts her mistake, someone who is selfish and dogmatic. But you love her dearly and want the very best for her. You choose to marry her and take care of her, hoping one day she will change. But she never changes. You keep watching, and at last, you see yourself tying a knot around your neck and stepping on the edge of a stool. The screen goes static again.

It comes back to life. You see other imaginary events, too many, and everything leads to being miserable in the end and ultimately to your death.

"What's the meaning of all this?" you ask, thinking it's too much.

"It's to make you realize there was nothing to regret. You always made the right decision and the path you took was precisely the best."

"Is this supposed to make me happy? You know what, I don't even regret most of these. This is absurd. You think this will work?"

"The best part comes now. Just watch."

The screen comes back to life. You see yourself on the bus. The same bus you got in before you died. No accident happens; you go back to your house, to your wife and children. You keep watching. The days go on in your life. Suddenly, you and your wife have started having bigger arguments now. Your children grow up but they also grow estranged from you and each other. They have gotten into some trouble behind your back. They fight with you frequently. You keep watching. Some years pass. Your wife doesn’t love you much. In fact, you don’t even love your wife—just a distraction in your busy life. The fight with your children is reaching out of your hand.

"Stop," you yell, as the scene of you and your children shouting and you breaking the glass table by hitting it with your fist is on the screen.

"Why?"

"I can tell what's going to happen. You are going to show me these videos and want to make me believe that it's okay that I died. If I hadn't died now, I would have been unhappy later and my life would have been a living hell."

"You got the point," the voice says.

You collect your breath and sigh, "Let me tell you, your happiness machine failed. This is the stupidest thing I have ever seen. Have you ever made someone happy from this? You show all the negative things that could happen. What if I had talked to that girl on the job and settled with her and died? You would show it as the right thing, right? Making all other decisions bad? And what if I had died yesterday, well, then the same scenes would've worked, but...then, why kill me today? Why not yesterday or tomorrow?"

"You really don't want to be happy, right, human?"

"Yes, I don't. There is nothing to be happy about. Have you ever made someone happy with this stupid machine, must be an idiot if there ever was?"

"There are some."

"I don't like what you just showed me, and even if it's the truth and these events are inevitable,” you say, "I would still love to go back and experience that, you know, try to make it better. That's what life is, I think. Experiencing everything. Sadness sometimes, sometimes happiness—"

"Would you like to go back then?" the voice asks.

"What? Is it possible?"

"Yes, it's possible. But your memory of this place will be erased. The bus driver will not sleep and so you won't die there."

"Okay, I want to go back. But after I know the meaning of life."

"You can't know the meaning of life if you want to go back."

"It doesn't matter, right, if my memory is going to be erased? I just want to know what it is, even if I couldn't take any knowledge back."

"I am afraid it doesn't work that way. It is impossible to erase the meaning of life once known. If you want to know it, you must stay here."

"So what I experienced was just a trial?"

"Yes"

"No wonder it was that awful."

"I know," the voice says, "I have heard that."

"Yeah, most of the people are not idiots."

"I was saying I have heard that from you."

"What? I have been through this before?"

"You are so, so little, stupid being, aren’t you? You couldn't even get a clue while we talked."

"No...so I always chose to go back?"

"Yes," the voice says.

"How many times have I died then?"

"Many, many times."

"And other people do that too? They choose to go back?"

"Yes, all of them."

"Has my wife ever done this?"

"Yes, many times. Even your children. They all went back to Earth because of you. Because they thought they loved you. This is what you wanted to hear."

"I have some questions."

"I know."

"If some other people also had died in the same accident as I, and if they chose to be dead, then how does making the bus driver awake work? Do they have a heart attack?"

"In this accident, only you were supposed to die. If someone else was too, then they would have their way. Sometimes by accident, sometimes by other reasons— a heart attack is also one of them."

You process this and are silent.

"I knew a man who got into a car accident,” you say, “he got his children and wife killed in the same accident. And he was hurt badly too, breaking his backbone. A year after the accident he committed suicide."

"Not all accidents are supposed to kill people. He just simply didn't die to come meet me here. He died later and chose to stay."

"How about children? They chose to stay too, they don't want their mother?"

"Children are the easiest of all. You are forgetting this place is heaven. They can have their mother here."

"At what threshold do you decide a person to be dead and worthy to come here? How do you measure when someone should die and when someone shouldn't?"

"You are once again asking me the meaning of life. Have you changed your mind?"

"No, no, sorry. I have not changed my mind," you say, "My neighbor, they were always poor. They had an only daughter. They sacrificed everything for her education. She was brilliant in school, always topped. She was brilliant in everything, in fact. She got a scholarship from a big University. She got a job in a very big company and then the family thought all their bad days were gone. Now finally, they could be happy. Finally they could uplift their lifestyle. But on the first day of her job, you killed her. You took the only hope they had. There were criminals, bad people, and sinners you could have killed, but you killed her. You killed her on her first day at her first job—"

"I know how I killed her. It wasn't an Earthquake, it wasn't an accident. She died choking on a glass of water. It was her fate."

"The family is in shambles now, and you are telling me that she stayed here?"

"Yes, she was curious,” the voice says, “The meaning of life provided her great comfort."

"What about the family? What were all the sacrifices and hardships for?"

"I am afraid you're once again asking me the meaning of life."

A brief silence.

"Those soldiers who died in the stupid war, with their pregnant wife at home or a mother waiting?"

"Yes, they stay here. It's much easier once they know the meaning of life. And don't forget, the meaning of life is one of the infinite things this heaven could offer you."

"I had a friend who was in the army, who died in the war. He would never. He wasn't selfish. He was the most compassionate person I've ever seen, even till now—"

"He loved his family. It's you who are evil, who make people curious about things like the meaning of life and lure them in and don't let them go back," the voice completes you.

"We have had this conversation before, and my answer is the same thing. Once you know the meaning of life, you will get a brand new vision to see things on Earth. It will all make sense."

"You must be lying,” you say, “No amount of truth or knowledge or meaning, and in whatever direction you want, can ever, for once, comfort a man who's lived there and saw the unfairness himself. I don't think it provides any comfort, just that it's impossible then to come back, so people are forced to stay."

"You are wrong. The meaning of life isn't anything like you think. It is impossible to guess either. This is inevitable as death itself. It's the most comforting thing in the world, according to everyone who chose to stay here."

A brief silence again.

"All your life you believed there was something else that put a stop to your life and you cursed it. Worshiped it. Now you know it has always been you. Humans. Your very own kind. Your very own decision. And you cannot believe it," the voice seems to be chuckling for the first time, "All of you are the same. Everyone on Earth and all of you that died previously. And still, this always makes me laugh. It never fails. You are so, so stupid, little being, you humans. You have no idea, just like you have no idea about the meaning of life, what someone else is thinking, and what someone else will choose if they ever get a chance. Your optimism is misguided, it's eternally funny, even for me."

"I can't accept it."

"You only asked the wrong questions."

"And what are the right questions?"

"Is that your neighbor girl happy here? Is your soldier friend happy here?"

"Are they?"

"Yes, very much. You can be that happy too. It's just a little bit of courage. Then you won't even feel bad for the people back on Earth."

"No"

“Don’t you think your family can survive your death? They have imagined your death already, many many times. And you, you can have your answers here. It’s only a bit of courage.”

You say nothing and just keep staring at the water.

"Know this, human, that those who stay here are not selfish, they just want to be happy, be aware. The meaning of life cannot ever be found or thought of except here, and once it’s known, you will have all the answers about everything. Although you won’t take this knowledge back home, just know this."

"It's just selfish."

"Maybe it is, from your point of view. Don't tell me you don't want to go inside. You are only afraid and fearful that you'll be judged, like how you are judging your friend and that girl and other people. You are afraid I will judge you. But I already know you, I know all your thoughts. I know all your thoughts since your birth, even the ones you don’t remember, even the weirdest of the weirdest, even the psychotic and the evilest."

“Why are you telling me all this if I won’t remember it and can’t apply this knowledge to live a better life? Why are you telling me all this if I am just a stupid, stupid human being who knows nothing and who will understand nothing?”

"Because I can and I want to."

A brief silence again. You don’t want to speak now. You are tired of heaven or whatever this place is. You do want answers but can't pay the price, not yet."

"It's okay. I know when you will choose to stay here."

"If you knew that, then why did you even kill me? Why did we even have this conversation?"

"I am afraid you can't have an answer with the decision you are making."

"I understand. This is all to lure me in."

"Do you not think you will ever choose to stay here? What do you think should happen to you first before deciding to stay here? What's the threshold you should cross?"

"I don't know," you say.

"Many years ago, you said you wanted to wait till you grow up. Then getting married, then seeing your children, then seeing them grow up," the voice says, "You have made thousands of excuses to go back. But you don't live in your world like you think you will after getting into this place. You keep cursing your fate. Keep cursing me. Keep wishing you were dead, imagine the end of the world. But yet, when given a chance so fruitful, so pleasing, that billions before you have accepted so kindly and delighted from it, you reject it. What do you think should happen, what do you think you should be before you can accept being dead?"

"I live like that because you wipe my memory of this place," you say, "if I could take this knowledge back, then surely I would live better."

"I never wipe your memory. You, humans, have been so corrupted all these years that you wipe it yourself. Unconsciously. Without any hint. It’s irreversible now. Because you don't want to live truly. None of you."

You don't say anything. The water starts flowing.

“Are you ready to go back now?” the voice asks.

You think for a moment, “Yes, ready.”

"You will arrive again, soon."

From the radio came a beautiful piece of music and you glanced outside the window. Birds were flying towards the Sun.