My heart sank. The bidding was over. I was going to hell. I tried to be a good person all my life. I really believed that was worth something. But I just couldn’t accept Jesus. They tried to save me, lots of people did, My mom, my girlfriends, my cousins. Even one of my brothers, the one who married a Baptist and got himself saved. But you can’t make people believe what they just can’t believe. I just couldn’t give myself to Him, the way they could. It felt like slavery. It seemed forced. It seemed like coercion. I could have gone through the motions, but it isn’t like God couldn’t see what was in your heart. So I bet on the true goodness of my work.

It seemed like a better plan, and the only way I would get to Heaven. I needed to know how much the evangelists and missionaries really wanted to save me. I needed to know the value of my soul in real terms. But I have to admit, I never really thought it would go this way. Maybe I really am worse than I thought I was. Maybe I really am that dark, that uncaring, that evil minded, that hateful, that ignorant. It is starting to make some sense. After all, I never even really liked myself all that much, without understanding why not. There’s a reason. I can more honestly explore it now.

Now that I’m on the Devil’s team, my soul sold on ebay.

I remember when ebay used to be a place for all kinds of things. Anything anyone had would be sold on ebay, but not anymore. Everything pales in comparison to the market for souls. There just aren’t enough resources to handle all that anymore. Between the bartering and trading and the spectator sport of it all, the servers have all they can handle. I thought it was exciting from day one. People posted links to their websites, full of information on what they had done, and who they were, their weblogs had years of journals and comments and reactions to situations. I know mine revealed things about me that I could never have described or told anyone. There are things only the objective mind can see, revealed in the writing, unknown even to the writer, but it was there. And people left it there, because they were unable to interpret it, unable to try to fool people, confident that a system that determined your final destination on the basis of merit was better than one that determined it on friendship (with Jesus).

I used to read everyone’s logs. I watched these people post their souls for sale, and plead as the bidding didn’t go their way. I could usually tell which way it was going to go early in the process, just from reading their own work, which was why I was so confident that I could read my own. My soul sold for a good deal more than most. What made it so valuable? What made it not valuable enough? I have but to wait the rest of my life and I’ll find out.

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