Unplug it and count to 10

 The sign on the pearly gates said, Temporarily Out of Order. I stepped on the mat again and sure enough, the gates didn’t open.

Had somebody been called? Had it been reported? Surely, they knew about it—someone had hung the sign, after all.

I looked around, expecting a clipboard angel or a divine receptionist to come trotting over, wings flapping apologetically. Nothing. Just silence. A soft breeze rustled the clouds under my feet, but otherwise, the place was eerily still.

A small bell sat on a podium beside the gate. I pressed it. No sound. I tapped it harder. Still nothing.

From somewhere behind the gates, I thought I heard a voice—faint, like someone speaking from a distant room. I pressed my ear against the pearly bars.

“…just reboot it. Yes, I already tried that—hold down the harp key and the trumpet at the same time—no, not that trumpet, the golden one—yes, that one…”

Great. Heaven’s IT department was on the case.

I sat down on the edge of a cumulus and sighed. Eternity, it seemed, was going to start a little late.