Paul Dearborn is quite certain that he’ll go to hell, a prospect that bothers him in only
one way: the uncertainty of what it will be.
And the only thing that bothers me is that I
just had to read this in the month of my own sixtieth birthday. Oh, that no-goodnick
Silverberg!
He thought back over his sixty years. The betrayals, the disappointments, the sins, the
hangovers. He had some money now, and by some standards he was a successful man. But life
hadn't been any joyride. It had been rocky and fear-torn, filled with doubts and
headaches, moments of complete despair, others of frustrated pain.