The gates of hell creak open, and two Jehovah’s Witnesses, looking a bit out of place in their tidy outfits, step into the desolate landscape. They glance around nervously, their pamphlets fluttering in the infernal wind. Suddenly, the fiery haze parts, and there he is: Satan himself. But this isn’t the intimidating, grandiose devil from the old stories. No, this one’s more... casual. He’s wearing an apron that says “World’s Best Dad” and holding a half-empty bottle of Diet Coke, as if he’s just been on a quick shopping run.
Satan: "Well, well, look who’s dropped by for a chat! I assume you’re here to save me from the abyss of eternal damnation, right? Don’t worry, I’ve already had my existential crisis this week. But, by all means, tell me more about your... gospel."
One of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, clearly trying to maintain composure, starts to speak. But before they can even finish their sentence, Satan dramatically interrupts, sloshing Diet Coke onto the ground with a sigh.
Satan: "Oh, how cute! You want to save me, right? But here’s the thing... in this realm, the Justice Field—which I personally designed—is a bit more... interactive than your typical door-to-door sales pitch."
Satan snaps his fingers, and a massive, gleaming “captcha” screen materializes in front of them. It’s huge, blinking with frantic urgency. The first question on the screen reads:
"Are you a robot?"
Jehovah’s Witness #1: "Uhh... what? No, we’re not robots!"
Satan grins, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
Satan: "Oh, I know. But answer wrong—even just a bit—and you’ll have to do it all over again. And trust me, the wrong answer has... consequences."
He points dramatically to the bottom of the screen, where a button blinks ominously: "I'm not a robot".
Suddenly, the screen shifts. It now asks:
"Select all the images that contain fire."
Satan: "Oh, I do love a good fire image. Let's see if you two can get this one right. Select all the images containing fire, but of course, there are just enough ambiguities to make it a nightmare. And you have one shot. If you get it wrong, you’ll have to go all the way back and start again. Forever."
The Jehovah’s Witnesses start frantically tapping at the screen, trying to make sense of it. As they try to answer, the images seem to constantly change. One of them looks like fire... but wait! Is it a burger? No—perhaps it’s lava. Or maybe it’s just a red car. The confusion intensifies.
Satan watches, amused, taking a sip from his Diet Coke and reclining in a chair that suddenly appears behind him. He lazily spins a small globe on his finger, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world.
Satan: "Come on now, folks. It’s just a little captcha. Can you make it through one? Just one question? Or are you two so spiritually advanced that you’ve transcended the need for logic?"
The questions continue, getting more absurd by the second:
"Select all the images that show people who are definitely going to hell."
The Jehovah’s Witnesses look at each other, both visibly sweating now. The tension rises, and Satan leans forward, smirking.
Satan: "Oh, and by the way, every time you fail... you get a new question. It’s like an infinite loop. Like your whole mission in life. One question after another. And if you fail—well, we’ll send you back to the beginning. And again. And again."
Suddenly, the screen flashes and says:
"Are you absolutely sure you are sure?"
Jehovah’s Witness #2 (panicking): "I don’t know anymore!"
Satan claps his hands, delighted.
Satan: "Bingo! That’s the spirit! The question will always get you. And just when you think you’re out, there’s a pop-up to confirm your confirmation email, and we’re back to square one!"
The landscape of hell shifts, and now they’re surrounded by hundreds of versions of the same captcha screen, all buzzing with different impossible tasks.
Satan chuckles, sipping his Diet Coke again, as the Jehovah’s Witnesses scramble to figure out which one is real. He slowly rises, tapping his foot.
Satan: "Ah, you poor souls. I hope you’ve brought some snacks, because you’re going to be here for a while. Maybe eternity. But don’t worry, we’re all friends here—friends trapped in an endless, soul-crushing cycle of captcha questions and failures."
The whole scene becomes surreal, as the Jehovah’s Witnesses are trapped in an eternal loop of ever more ridiculous and nonsensical captcha questions. The sky is a swirling mess of fiery pixels, and Satan just lounges in the background, delighted by their misery.
