When Arthur Bunley died, there was no flash of white. There was no field of stars or flight of angels. There was, instead, the exact same room he'd died in. Same florescent lights. Same trilling machines. Same exhausted, blood-speckled surgeon and clock-watching nurses.
Arthur only knew he was dead because the surgeon said so. He also had a very distinct sense of flatness, which came from no longer having a heartbeat. Still, it was difficult to digest all at once and Arthur held out hope - such as it was - that it was all a big misunderstanding. Even as they stretched a sheet over his face and rolled him down to the morgue, still he thought, "They'll figure it out. Never fear."
Later, a cheerful man in black drained all of Arthur's fluids and replaced them with something that was almost certainly not blood, sewed together the hole in Arthur's chest, and dressed Arthur in an admittedly trendy three piece suit. Through it all, Arthur thought, "Well, they'll feel silly when they catch their mistake." But no one did, of course, because Arthur was dead.
Next there was the funeral, which Arthur witnessed from a cozy spot inside a well furnished casket. People said quite a few nice things about Arthur, which would have made him blush under other circumstances. One by one, they passed by and whispered more pleasantries into his ear. "Well, this part's not half bad," thought Arthur, who made a note to give his warmest regards to everyone individually as soon as they realized he hadn't quite died.
Except he had, of course, which is why they buried him in the ground.
Arthur was down in the dark for quite some time, wondering whether or not this was the sort of mix-up you had grounds to sue over, when a voice spoke to him.
"Mr. Bradley," it said in a great, flummoxed sigh. "So, so sorry for the delay."
"It's Bunley," said Arthur. "No worries. No worries. I'm just glad you've finally realized I'm not dead."
"Oh, erm," hawed the voice. "Oh, Mr. Bunfree, I'm so sorry, but you are quite extremely dead. You are even buried. You must have noticed?"
"Bunley," said Arthur, a little more tightly than usual. "And being that I'm still in my body, well, naturally I assumed there'd been an error, perhaps?"
"Sorry, sorry," said the voice. "No. Dreadful budget cuts, I'm afraid. Understaffed, overstretched. We're running behind on everyone, I'm afraid. But! At last, Mr. Bagley, you are going to Heaven!"
"Bunley," said Arthur. "Heaven, is it? Well, that's excellent! I did try to be one of the good ones. Excellent, excellent. So...shall we?"
"Yes, yes," said the voice. "Soon. Just a bit of paperwork to complete first then you'll be up and away!"
"You've not come to fetch me?" said Arthur. "I...well, I just assumed Heaven was sort of an immediate thing."
"No," said the voice. "There's staging first. Minor thing. Really, just a formality."
"And where's staging?"
"Used to be," said the voice, clearing its throat. "Uh, well, used to be staging was in this grand, sunny valley full of plenty. All the good folks not yet in Heaven would spend their time together there, frolic, reminisce, eat good food..."
Arthur nodded eagerly inside his decaying body. "That sounds grand. When do we...?"
"But budget cuts, you see?" said the voice. "Had to sell off the Golden Valley."
"What?"
"To Hell," said the voice. "Fiscally anyway, Hell's doing a little better than us at the moment. But no worries. We do satellite staging now."
"And where's that?" said Arthur.
"Here," said the voice. "From the comfort of your very own casket."
"And there's food and song and all that here in my casket?" said Arthur.
"In your imagination?" said the voice. "Well, no. Don't get stuck on that. Staging's just a part of it. We'll get you up to Heaven proper in no time."
"I suppose," said Arthur, who had to admit he'd gotten pretty used to the casket as it was. "What's Heaven like?"
"Oh..." said the voice, trailing. "You know."
"I'm not sure I do," said Arthur.
"It's..." The voice seemed to be struggling with phrasing. "It is what it is."
"Are my loved ones there, at least?" said Arthur. "My mother and father? My old coonhound, Rocket?"
"They are..." said the Voice. "...in a part of Heaven."
"My part?"
"A part..."
"Listen, I suppose I'm in no position to complain, but you're not exactly painting me a picture here," said Arthur.
"Well, I believe I already told you about..."
"...the budget cuts," interrupted Arthur. "Yes, and?"
"Well, we can't really afford to keep running Heaven the way we've been running it, you see?" said the voice. "Simple economics. We were running at a loss. So we changed a few things up. But - keep in mind - some folks have already been in Heaven for a while and they're very used to how things were. And they got upset about the proposed changes and, I guess, they made some good points. So, we decided to leave their Heaven the way it was."
Arthur thought he felt something like a worm burrowing through his skull, but that had to have been his imagination. "That makes it sound like there's more than one Heaven."
"Right. Well, there is. There's Old Heaven, or Heaven Classic as some call it. And there's New Heaven, which a lot of people have taken to call Tallahassee, because apparently it very much reminds some folks of a place called Tallahassee."
"And which am I going to?" asked Arthur, though he suspected he already knew.
"Tallahassee," said the voice. "Your parents and Rocket are in Heaven Classic. They can transfer to Tallahassee, if they'd like, but I'll level with you - no one moves to Tallahassee by choice."
Arthur was silent a moment. He realized he had no idea how much of his body was actually still attached, which seemed like a significant thing to know. "So what's in my Heaven?"
The voice said nothing. Arthur thought he could hear the sound of an ethereal tongue clucking inside an ethereal mouth. "You know, it's really something you have to see in person to appreciate," said the voice at last.
"Ah."
"Well, I've dawdled," said the voice. "21,768 more appointments still to go this week. Looks like someone won't be making their quota. Again." The voice sighed. "Get comfy, Mr. Bangee. As soon as your paperwork is finished, someone'll be along to fetch you right up."
"Bunley," said Arthur into the void. "And I think you can take your time."