Inferno
Prologue
I am……………………it seems……………………dead. The void is cold and oppressive. I stare through my translucent hands at the unending emptiness beyond. A figure. Hazy, blue, features obscured by an ecclesiastical robe. Normally this would be sinister but I welcome anything to break the seemingly eternal abyss.
More focus. A river. A boat. The figure beckons me and we are soon purposefully traversing the eerie watery expanse. “The Acheron” my guide whispers, answering my unspoken question, as I gaze with some trepidation through the thick mist of the river of pain.
We soon reach the shore, and I peer up at the immense stone doors in front of me. There is no fire and brimstone as portrayed in the books of life, just cold grey weathered stone. I feel desolate and hopeless, as my robed guide gentle places his bony fingers round my arm and leads me through the Gates of Hell.
1st Circle of Hell – Limbo
The poker tables stretch out as far as the eye can see. The players play in silence, but the air is filled with the clicking sounds of thousands of chips being slowly riffled. The blinds are 10-20, and the players have stacks of 50,000.
My guide watches impassively from beneath his hood.
“Why are they here”? I whisper.
“These are the uncommitted. They are the passive and unimaginative. They haven’t sinned as such, but their ways are so ingrained they have no hope of reconciliation. Their tournament clock is infinite. They will play till the end of time rarely deviating from their 2500 BB starting stack.”
My guide states the facts in a quiet raspy voice, never betraying any sense of emotion or pity.
Limbo is beautiful, in a way. The green fields are lush beneath the tables and the sun beats down. However, the players are all stony faced as they repeat their endless game. Limp, Limp, Check. Check, Check, Check. Check, Bet, Fold, Fold.
“It’s time” whispers my companion and we progress downwards to a huge stone antechamber. Minos lies on a prominent concrete plinth, tail resting beside him. He lifts both hands and indicates the number seven to my guardian. The escort nods agreement and we pass through to the next circle.
2nd Circle of Hell – Lust
While the players in Limbo played in pleasant surroundings, the 2nd circle players play in intolerable conditions. Each table houses one soul and eight demons, and whilst the demons sit still, the souls are battered from either side violent storm, which throws them from their stools during the hands. “They can’t let go of big hands” whispers my attendant. “In life they played their pairs strongly, and could never let go, even on a four straightening flushing board. Time and again their lust of the hole cards thumped their bankroll.”
Here in the storm, they are dealt Aces, after Aces, after Aces. The vicious storm prevents them getting to the table though and their hands are timed out repeatedly. Howls of frustration echo over the wind in this imposing hall, as lust goes unfulfilled time and again. When a soul occasionally makes it back to the table against the harsh winds they are always insta-cracked by a Demon’s and immediately go bust.
The blue robed spectre guides me towards some stairs at the end of the hall and I follow him down apprehensively.
3rd Circle of Hell – Gluttony
As we pass down into the next area, my footing becomes unsure as the ground becomes slippery. I notice we are stepping in cold black slush and as suddenly freezing rain beats down on us from above. Cerberus the three headed dog paces around the rain beaten expanse guarding his subjects.
There are no tables in this desolate place. Instead the gluttons play demons lying down in the putrid slush, digging for their chips in the black residue around them.
“The greedy are housed here. They overbet their monster hands in life and wasted numerous opportunities to extract value. They never learn, and their vision is clouded by the need to make as much money as possible”
One glutton digs into the mud, and shoves all his chips into the pot on a turned nut straight, but the demons insta fold. Another glutton re-raises his baby flush on the river but is re-raised by his opponent. He calls and goes broke.
Suddenly one of the condemned makes a break for it, but he can’t get traction in the mud. Cerberus pounces on him and flings him back to the game where he will re-live his mistakes for eternity. It was a futile attempt in any case – there is nowhere to go.
It is time for us to descend every deeper into the bowels of Hades………
4th Circle of Hell – The Prodigal
The next circle is more palatable underfoot than Cerberus’ domain, but a bare and grey overbearing dome. In the centre of the dome, thousands of souls struggle to carry oversize lead chips. It takes three souls to heave a single chip between them, but by sheer teamwork they move the chips from team to team.
Via a complex system of scaffolding and pulleys, the souls are constructing a huge stack of oversized chips in the centre of the room.
There are only three huge building blocks remaining as my ghostly companion muses:
“The wasteful. Their lot in the game was to build huge tournament chip stacks and implode, shattering their own dreams with ill timed moves and bravado.”
Whilst I am pondering to myself that this is the likely final destination for many a young internet player, the ground rumbles under my feet. The souls have just completed their chip tower, but now the dome is enduring a mini earthquake. The scaffolding gives way, and all the work is undone as the tower of chips crashes to the floor, as the souls scatter in all directions. Howls of anguish echo around me as the workers survey the wreckage.
I am ushered towards the exit steps as the tortured souls recommence their eternal task.
5th Circle of Hell – Wrath
At the base of the steps we arrive at a jetty, and I gaze over the surface of the River Styx. Despite an eerie orange light projected from above, the water has no reflection, and looks like an expanse of black pitch. A skiff arrives to take us further on our journey, and after a few minutes I can see the wrathful souls playing their eternal poker.
Their tables hover over the black water’s surface as do the souls themselves. The games are horrid, full of resentment and menace. Demons make outrageous rulings and the players soon lose control. They square up and begin ripping at each other. A shimmering ear ringed chav, has had enough of a young soul with slicking back hair and shades and goes for him. The younger soul squeals as his heart is pulled from his ribcage and he sinks silently beneath the pitch black surface.
On other tables souls are literally ripping themselves limb from limb, as more and more ghostly figures fall out of sight.
“What happens to them after they die?” I enquire of my guide, in whose company I am now comfortable.
“A soul can’t die - they are simply condemned to play out this violent game for eternity”
The skiff ploughs forward leaving the rioting souls behind us, and I notice we are approaching a high walled city on the other side of the river. Fallen angels guard the turrets as we arrive at shore.
“I know this city – Dis” I mutter to myself.
“Indeed – the lower part of Hell. Home of the active sins”
“Doesn’t seem too bad” I venture
“Just as well, as you will never leave”
6th Circle of Hell – The Heretics
As we walk through the city entrance, we pass through a narrow cobble path. On either side, rows and rows of cash game are in progress. However, this is no normal collection of games. Each table is housed within an oval flaming tomb and is a mishmash of souls and demons. The souls wail as they play, some of them burning at the table.
I peer in on the game closest to the path – Omaha is underway!. The soul calls a raise with QQ25 and promptly flops top set. However the board is QT7 with two clubs. The Demon bets and the soul flat calls, rather than raising. The turn is the Jack of clubs, and the smouldering soul loses his stack as both draws get there.
“That was terrible – how can he not raise there with all the draws out there?”
My escort smiles wryly.
“Heretics don’t follow traditional beliefs. Hurry – we are behind time. Follow me”
8th Circle of Hell – The Hypocrites
“Why have we missed the 7th circle” I enquire of my host.
“Don’t worry – we’ll get there soon enough but I’m sure you’d like to finish the tour first?”
The 8th circle is a vast flat circular stone, Tables are placed long distances apart so the hypocrites can play their games. The players wear heavy lead cloaks as they trudge from table to table, weighed down by their sin.
I glance over at one of the tables. A player limps in middle position and a Demon shoves his 12BB stack in from the button. The player calls with and the Demon tables KK. Instant service is obtained, as an Ace plops down in the window. The player fistpumps and the Demon leaves the table.
At this stage, the player is summoned to his next table, and plods over to the other end of the stone, stopping to catch his breath a few times under the weight of the lead cloak.
He arrives at table 34 just in time to find QQ in middle position. He only has 7BB in this game so ships his stack in. A demon calls in the BB with . A Queen arrives on the flop but three running clubs eliminate the player from this tournament.
“You idiot! How can call with Ace rag there. There’s only two decent players on this table. Ace eight? Ace eight?”
The Demon’s eyes flash red as he shoots the condemned soul a glance of fury. The player is now assigned a table right at the very edge of the plateau. He stumbles forwards under his lead cloak, sweating as he realises it has got noticeable hotter.
9th Circle of Hell – The Traitors
We march briskly on, taking a seemingly endless flight of stairs down to a freezing pit. All around are souls in human form, encased in ice up to the neck. An intolerable frustration for the souls, as they know full well they can move, but are effectively quadriplegic. Each player has a Demon assistant, who carries out the soul’s instructions, in a never ending game of frustration and torment.
“What did these guys do?”
“Oh, you know, took backing and pocketed the cash rather than playing, sold their equities over 100%, that kind of scum. We don’t have time to stay – come – we have our destination to get to”
7th Circle of Hell – The Violent
“We’ve arrived” says my ghostly guardian without expression.
“The 7th circle!? What’s going on? I’m not violent. Surely there has been some mistake?”
“No mistake…………..observe”
Instantly projected into my mind are images of myself from poker games past. A £400 call against Dev with pre-flop, a £200 call against Fluke with again preflop, and online 5 bet all in with running into Aces. The hands continue to come – awful calls which cost me money or cost me my tournament life.
My companion places a consoling arm on my shoulder.
“The 7th circle house all kinds of violence: Violence against other people, violence against God………and………………suicide.”
Epilogue
How long have I been here…………a month? A year? A hundred years? Time has no meaning here. I just play and play and play and play. Interestingly I am also a tree with my bodily corpse hanging off my branches, which is pretty grim.
My demon assistant jabs me and spits “What do you want to do? You’ve raised to 700 with and now that guy has made it 2100.”
“What are the stack sizes?”
“We have 8k, he has 9k”
“What the hell – lets bang it in. I’m sure we can get him off it”
“Whatever. It’s your funeral.”
“Again”