After a long, rewarding life, and a brief, painful illness, William, a life-long atheist, died.
William was soon surprised to find himself standing on a cloud, before a set of pearly gates. His body was undraped, but he found that somehow he did not feel naked. "Well, from the evidence, perhaps I was wrong, after all," the atheist mused, smiling in chagrin. "Now, I'll see if I can get admitted here, or... elsewhere." (William was thinking of Pascal's infamous Gambit, and worrying that he might have lost that particular bet.)
William approached within several meters of the gate. He saw nobody nearby.
"Hello? Is Saint Peter, or some other gatekeeper-creature here?" William laughed nervously. There was no answer. He came closer still. Now he could make out cursive golden letters worked into the filigree design of the gate's mother-of-pearl wings. On the left side of the gate was the word, "Atheist," and across from it on the other wing was the word, "Heaven." He could also make out what appeared to be translations of these words in many other languages.
William touched the right side of the gate with one hand, and found it to be unlocked. As he pushed it, both wings of the gate silently swung wide open.
William gasped as he beheld the revealed view. He began walking through vast green parks with ponds, streams, bandstands, palatial mansions, and wide, brick-paved walkways, interrupted only by a golden, palm-lined ocean beach in the distance. Everywhere people dressed in all skin colors gamboled, debated philosophy, made love, played sports, or simply sat about in the warm sun, reading books.
After a few hours of amazed wandering, William stopped to sit at one of several tables in a shady oak grove. An angelic server appeared at once, and with a silent smile, set down a huge steak dinner and William's favorite red wine -- just the things he'd been thinking of a moment earlier. "And yes, there will be strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream for dessert", said the angel. "Be welcome, and eat all you like; you'll never get fat."
Just then, an attractive lady at the next table spoke to him. "You must be new here, right, William?"
A little flustered because he had no idea how the lady could know his name, he replied, "Indeed I am, Sylvia! Hey, I know your name!"
"You'll soon find," Sylvia said with a warm smile, "that you will know all sorts of things, such as names, that you need to know here, William. So, how do you like Atheist Heaven so far?"
"It's... well, Paradise! And so very surprising to me, as an atheist."
Sylvia laughed in a rich contralto voice. "Oh, yes, it surprised me, too! It surprises everyone who arrives here."
"How long have you been here, Sylvia?"
"I'm not sure how long it's been, but I died in 1782, at the age of fifty-seven."
"You don't look a day over twenty-five, Sylvia."
"Thank you, but nobody does, unless they deliberately wish to look more mature. Some do, you know, people such as George Bernard Shaw and Carl Sagan. But most people here consider age to be a bit of an affectation. By the way, the children who come here have a choice of either growing up at whatever pace they like, or of remaining children forever. Some adults even choose to become children again."
"I have so much to learn!" William complained.
"It should not be so difficult. But you seem tense, William. That's natural, in someone who's just arrived. Would you mind if I came to your mansion tonight and helped you to relax? A little company, conversation, and sexual coupling might help you to adjust, and I would enjoy it very much also."
William found himself not at all embarrassed to accept this kindly proposal.
"But why..." William gestured all about, "Why, Sylvia, is there a Heaven to reward people for being atheists?"
"Nobody here knows the 'why' of that, and there don't seem to be any gods here to ask. But we do know that this place isn't for all atheists. It's only for the good ones, for people who lived ethical lives and valued humanity. Ironically, it's for people who have done good deeds throughout their time on earth, even though they were not motivated by the superstition of divine judgement. Bad atheists, people like Pol Pot, Stalin, and Mao, that sort never arrive here."
"Well, then, where do the unethical atheists go?" William inquired.
"They," Sylvia shuddered, "have to spend eternity in Atheist Hell, accompanied by hordes of zealous tormentors. You see, that terrible place also has another name: Christian Heaven."