You are a good person who lives among good people and therefore when you are no longer here you will go to Valhalla.
Once you arrive you discover the folks in Valhalla weren’t really all that good before they got there.
"Oh well," you think, "they have fine cutlery and a seemingly endless supply of beef."
They tell marvelous, heroic sagas that make you forget all about time.
No one seems to care much about the sad affairs of humankind. Why, they’ve even forgotten their former existences altogether—imagining they were always in Valhalla.
The whole operation is pre-Christian so ideas like "forgiveness" or "lovingkindness" are nowhere in evidence.
When the long dinner is over and the sybaritic poets have declaimed satisfactorily, everyone stands and in the custom of honorific eternity, they retain their personalized forks.
Etc.
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 