Part 1: Infernal Road
Trip
So
there I was at a crossroads in my life, pretty bummed out about how my beloved city
of Florence had ruined itself with politics – I had a feeling my neighbors had
it in for me next – and I was “lost in the woods”, so to speak. And then, three “animals” – let
us say they were a lion, a she-wolf, and a panther, because symbolism – came after
me and I was then “trapped” against a “mountain” (use your imagination). What to do, what to do –
suddenly, he appeared!
“Greetings,
Dante – I am Virgil.”
“The
Virgil?! The idol of poets’ idols?! This is awesome; I wish cameras had been
invented so I could take a picture for the folks at home if they let me come back! Not to sound ungrateful, but why did you
travel all the way from the afterlife to help me, currently an almost-nobody in the
world of literature?”
“Your
dead girlfriend Beatrice pulled a few strings in Heaven and strongly suggested
that I come and guide you.”
“Ah,
my one, my only, Beatrice! Please don't
let my wife find out that I still have a thing for her.”
“Then
maybe you shouldn’t write about her in literally everything you publish. Right now, in order to escape these metaphorical
animals, you must follow me as I take you through Hell.”
“Wait,
what? As in, actual Hell?”
“That's the one. With nine circles.”
“You
do realize this whole thing is an allegory, right? You’re not going to take me through the bona
fide, abandon-all-hope Hell, are you?!”
“This
epic is not going to write itself, so less talking and more walking.”
“But
I don’t wanna goooooo!”
Seeing
as it was the Virgil, though, I really couldn't say “No” to him – after
all, as a poet, I was planning to be the next him, so I had better put my florins
where my mouth was. So he led
me straight into Hell, which was no picnic, let me tell you. Virgil himself actually resided in the “best”
level of it, if you could consider any part of it not so bad: just because he
had been born during a time and in a place where people believed in gods
different from the one ruling my world now, he has to spend eternity
wistfully sighing with his fellows.
Could be worse, I suppose.
In
fact, there was worse – much, much worse, and if you want details, buy my book
(I hear that some editions cost as low as five units of your currency, plus
whatever needs to be rendered unto Caesar). I guess for my education, Virgil made me get
the life story of tormented souls in each and every circle, sub-level, etc.
– the areas got bigger as we descended lower, and Circles 7 and 8 had so many
categories of sinner that they took forever to get through. I don't know what sadistic mind thought up the punishments
for the people down there: as if their sins in life weren't bad enough, the
eternal torment with flames, and whippings, and muck, plus there was that one
incident with the snakes swapping bodies with those guys – really sick – made me
question my own sanity and whether there was any goodness left in the world. I had to keep telling the employees there that
I was still alive just so they wouldn't take me for one of their charges –
which would be most undeserved, I must add.
Virgil,
who by then was my best bud and we even called each other “Father” and “Son” just
so we had someone sane to keep track of, finally got us out of there by – no lie
– climbing down Satan’s back.
Apparently, the big guy’s three heads were so preoccupied munching on
history’s favorite traitors that he didn't notice our spelunking off of him to
the other side of the Earth. If he did
notice, he probably was too shocked at the whole thing to do anything about it.
I
actually am kind of thankful for this days-long experience. If I had been considering a life of sin before, I
definitely was forever cured of that notion.
Part 2: Purgatory Is
Quieter
Not much to say on this one: the
journey was parallel to the one we just took in Hell, only we were going up
instead of down and the inhabitants mostly were biding their time to rise through
each level, and I still kept having to explain to everybody that I was a living
person just passing through. One event
of note was that Virgil up and disappeared on me (I think he reached his
maximum altitude and had to go back to the hole), and suddenly, there she
was! Beatrice, the epitome of my vita nuova, my
tragic lost love, the purest soul that ever existed who descended from Heaven
just to guide my unworthy self onward!
My wife is never going to read this, right?
Part 3: Heavens Above
I got to be the first astronaut! I travelled through space, and planets, and
stars, and the Sun, and the moon, and got to see all the holy people who are
now in Heaven, and my lovely Beatrice grew lovelier and lovelier, and I
just know that this self-referential epic poem will convert the world to goodness and make my
name greater than that of even my mentor Virgil (no slight on him, but the son
always must overthrow the father). Small
comfort while I'm in exile from Florence, but I'm certain that one day they'll forget all about it and let me come home again. Meanwhile, I acclimate to life back on Earth
as I look up to where I so recently had left the stars.
