Hell is the absence of...

Lucifer sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Evil,” he said. “It’s just... so subjective.” He drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk, looking out the window. He looked... annoyed, distracted. Like he’d been reminded of a vexing problem.

“Hell isn’t some vast torture chamber,” he said. “I mean, I’m aware of how we’ve been portrayed in art and literature over the years, but I assure you that... well. There’s nothing here that wasn’t brought here by the people who dwell here.”

Carl looked out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Lucifer was looking at. As far as he could tell, it was just a pleasant garden out there.

“Yeah,” he said, “But, you know, I’ve been here for... a while, now. And it’s pretty awful.”

Lucifer nodded. “Of course,” he said. “It’s full of people.” He sighed. “It’s just people,” he said. “It’s not... officially awful, it’s just...”

“Yeah, I know,” said Carl. “It’s the absence of the Presence of God. I’ve read the brochure.”

Lucifer nodded. “So you know that the mandate of Hell is to make space for those who have severed themselves from the Presence.”

“Yes...”

“People who wish nothing more that to be left alone, to do what they like, without divine interference.”

“Well,” said Carl, “Listen, this is what I’m here about. I just think that with a little bit of organization...”

“Organization,” said Lucifer, pronouncing the word with distaste. “Rules and whatnot.” He looked out the widow again. “Limits on the absolute freedom we so value.”

“Freedom isn’t-- I mean, it needn’t be coercive, necessarily. All we need to do is offer people the ability to organize themselves, to provide mutual benefit...”

“And do what with it?” Lucifer leaned forward, across the desk. “Food isn’t necessary, health care isn’t necessary, the care of children and the elderly...” He snapped his fingers. “These are not things, here.”

It was true, there were no children in Hell.

“That’s just what I mean,” said Carl. “I feel like... we could make all this, you know, a little better, with some... some organized... some sort of, of mutual...” He waved his hands. “Some kind of way to belong, together,” he said. “It’s just...”

“People organize themselves around needs,” said Lucifer, “And there are no needs here. All is provided.”

“Nothing is provided!” Carl spoke harshly, bitterly. “Nothing is provided, you’ve just... made people not need things. We don’t need food or water, not because we have it but because we just... don’t need it. Sleep, shelter... Sex...”

Lucifer sat back, steepling his fingers and looking at Carl through them. “So,” he said slowly, “Your complaint is that you want for nothing.”

“I... I guess so.”

“You believe that conditions in Hell could be improved by the introduction of... of scarcity? Of want?”

“I think that... that if people had something to work for, together, something that made them... you know, need each other...”

Lucifer smiled. “I understand,” he said. “I do, really. And I sympathize.”

“You do.”

“Of course,” said the Dark Lord.

“So... will you act? Will you do something?”

“No. I’m sorry.” The Devil smiled a faint little smile, watching the man squirm in his chair.

“But just introducing a little... privation, a little... pain... it would do so much good...”

The faint smile widened into a grin. “My dear man,” said Lucifer. “Where do you think you are?”