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Please forgive the inconsistencies, this is very rough; something I whipped up while sitting at home today. This is sort of spun off from an idea I had for a sitcom, but never got around to fully realizing, there's some myspacey drama in it, but there's also some good humor, I think. For those who take the time to read it, please feel free to post criticism or praise, feedback or tips, or just random comments. I hope you enjoy this part as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope to continue developing it in the future. Just wait until you see what happens later on, it's going to be pretty cool.
I did not proofread this.Don’t worry. I didn’t go to the bad place.
Chapter 1
Departures and Arrivals
This is my story; a kind of journal, only backwards at first because in order to explain where I am and what it's about, you need to know how I got here. Suffice it to say, I made it to heaven. Or, at least, what you would call heaven, because it's not the other place and it turns out there's no in-between. Like I was saying, in order to know what this place really is, you need to know how I got here, so here it is:
So it was a day like any other- a Monday, in fact. I hate Mondays; especially rainy Mondays. Is there anything worse? I woke to my Cell phone/alarm clock (after pushing the snooze button about five times.) to a sky the color of old water in a puddle. dark, opaqueness covered the sky in an impenetrable pall. It was 8 AM, but it was as dark as if it were 8 PM. I could hear distant cracks of thunder. My poor dog was curled up on top of the blanket in the space between my legs into a ball fully 1/3rd his normal size, quivering. I have this way of sleeping like I slept many times in the Army, just as if I were in a firing position. One arm under my pillow, the other arm's hand just underneath the pillow, and legs spread, with one cocked up. They said it takes pressure off your lower back. Whatever, I was just damned comfortable.
There was no moving the poor animal, so I crept out of bed as gingerly as I could, so as not to slide my leg underneath him to force him out of his "Shield Ball" (Hey, Samus has one, why can't Milo?) And hit the closet to pick out my clothes for the day. “…Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, brown loafers.” I said to no one in particular.
In the next room, my 8 month old son, Ricky slept the heavy sleep that only babies can achieve, blissfully ignorant of all of life’s trials. I suppose we all deserve a break. Nothing wakes him up until he’s damn well good and ready. Not thunder or lightning or a power failure, not loud music or TV sounds, or flashing lights. Nothing. I went to the refrigerator to maybe grab some breakfast or something with caffeine in it to tide me over until lunch. I don’t know who I was trying to kid. About the only thing in there is milk, sandwich stuff and about 80 metric tons of baby food. I grabbed a container of apricots, set it on the counter and went back to the bathroom, realizing I’d forgotten to fix my hair.
“Shit.” I said aloud. I couldn’t find my brush.
“SHH!” came the reply from the other room. My rustling had awakened Amy, my girlfriend of two years. From her deep sleep.
She would undoubtedly be pissed the rest of the day now. When she wakes up, she can’t get back to sleep. But I was in no mood for frivolous bitching.
“Shut up. You know he won’t wake up early unless it’s the second coming.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“I love you!” She said, an impish grin crossing her barely parted lips, her eyes still only half open.
I remember that when I looked at her, her hair seemed to be brighter somehow. In fact, everything seemed more colorful, I thought to myself, even the pitch-black sky. This struck me as a bit odd. I had only just awakened, and yet I was seeing as clearly as if it were a cloudless day.
Inside the house.
“Strange.”
Maybe I had just gotten a really good night’s sleep. I had this nasty habit of sleeping only very little for several days, then sleeping fully 10 hours one night to make up for it. It was no way to live, honestly, miserable for three days, happy for one. Oh well, at least I wasn’t DEAD. How I would come to eat those words with a heaping helping of crow. At any rate, at that point I realized last night was dread Sunday, I’d not gotten to sleep until 2AM, and awakened at 6:45. That’s not a good night’s sleep. Didn’t matter, I supposed.
Grabbing my stolen apricots, I snagged the keys and headed down to the car, stopping on the way out to grab my umbrella. The storm was almost upon us, but it’d not gotten there yet. The air was cold, damn cold for June. Had to be 65 degrees outside, yet I had gone to bed in 80 degree heat. Knowing what I know about meteorology, Gradients like that are almost never good, and it showed. The air was still, though, another sign that the storm coming would be bad.
“No energy in the atmosphere.” I said idly.
My theory had always been that if there’s no wind right before a storm, it would be particularly nasty, I theorized that no wind means all the energy in the air had been sapped by the storm; and nature being what she was, she had to put it all back.
I jumped in my 2005 Sentra and started her up. Just in time too, it was at that moment that the bottom fell out of the clouds and rain started up in torrents almost immediately, Complete with obligatory lightning and thunder you’d expect in a summer storm. I remember turning on my headlights then, and thinking how very bright they were. I remember how the green of the wet grass glistened; I remember very clearly the sound of the patter of raindrops all over the car, how the trees shone with an almost eerie glow, the trunks still dry, but the leaves wet. They seemed dull compared to the rest of the world, which not seemed decorated with tiny stars as my headlights illuminated them. I turned on the radio, then, And the comforting voice of Steve Inskeep and Renée Montagne greeting me, “This…is morning edition on NPR.” Their voices seemed clearer, somehow louder, thought the volume was set quite low. I pulled out of my apartment complex, sheets of rain obscuring my field of view, and headed down the potholed road that led to the main road that cut north San Antonio in half, highway 281. The streetlights were impossibly bright, shining through the torrent as if it were not there. As I slowed to a stop, I heard a noise, a kind of rumble combined with a low “skworrk”, nothing to be worried about.
“Wet Brakes.” I said. “Perfect.”
This is normally not a big deal. As the light turned green, I gave her a little juice on takeoff and lightly held the brakes in, riding them and accelerating at the same time. The heat would dry the brake rotors and keep them that way if any small amount of water got on them again. This will cause the rotors to warp faster than normal, but at least I’d be able to stop.
The wind was picking up now, blowing the rain down in sheets rather than a continuous deluge. I continued on, Bemused with what seemed to be ultravision. “Just like a dark elf!” I thought aloud.
The lights of the oncoming cars were almost blinding, and I saw every raindrop so clearly through their beams. Like a million tinkling points of light falling through the air. I began to accelerate now, down the merge ramp, and onto 281. I approached the light on Evans avenue, a quite large cross-street, and it was, of course, yellow. “Just my luck, every light red when I get to it.”
I pressed on the brakes from a good distance away as I began my approach, in rain, one needs 3-12 times the stopping distance. I never forgot that from Driver’s ed..
But a strange thing happened. The brakes were spongy- and completely unresponsive. Thinking quickly, I immediately downshifted from fifth to third and yanked on the emergency brake, hard.
“SHIT! NOT ENOUGH!” I screamed aloud. “OHHHHHHH FUCK!”
I saw heading towards the intersection at breakneck speed a dump truck, fully laden with aggregate from the nearby quarry which by my estimation would arrive at the intersection at the same time I would if I didn’t get this bitch stopped.
“COME ON! FUCK!” I screamed, as the back tires locked up on the slick road, losing almost all ability to slow the car down. I was at 35 now, but only a split second from the intersection. Apparently, the truck driver saw it as well, as I noticed the red glow of his brake lights illuminating the road behind him.
3rd to 1st, and the back tires finally began to grab the road again, as I braced for the inevitable impact. The front quarter panel of my car was caught squarely by the great diesel tank of the truck, which was still moving forward, spinning my car fully 90 degrees to slam the full length of my car against the side of the dump truck’s container. The crunch of laminated glass breaking greeted me as this moment, which took maybe a half a second slowed to what seemed like minutes.
The airbag slowly deployed as my head was flung violenty forward and left. This would, I found out later, do me little good. My head crashed against the airbag, cushioning it. But there was no such protection to my left. The side of my head slammed against the window glass, and I felt and heard a sickening internal thud. My entire body seemed wracked by this impact. The driver side door of the car then began its slow movement toward me. I looked down in mute horror as a jagged piece of metal from some unidentified part of the car, pierced the plastic door panel and protruded several inches into the cab. My sideways movement, not as well arrested as my front-back movement by the seat belt, slammed my body into it. The metal driving it’s way into my side. Suddenly I felt a burning pain in my side, as the metal pierced my abdomen, and blood showered the door panel.
Now, you’d think that one might go unconscious at such grievous injury, but no. Not me, I’m not that lucky. The final blow would shatter my left femur.
As the car came to rest, I knew better than to try and move. And I knew that if I screamed, it would only make my pierced side bleed even more. It only took moments for the pain to begin to fade, as my body prepared itself for death. Every gland that produces endorphine went into overload, squeezing every bit into my bloodstream, and every minute bit of dopamine slammed into the receptors in my brain, and I felt better than I ever had. Physically.
I knew this was the end. As I slumped to the side in the car, time resumed it’s normal march forward, the driver of the truck jumped down and ran over to my car,
“JESUS FUCK, BUDDY! WHAT HAPPENED?! ARE YOU OKAY?!” He screamed frantically, from outside my shattered window.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?!” He said.
At this I managed a nod. My breathing becoming more labored. I felt like I could not inhale enough air. Other motorists began getting out of their cars, several were on cell phones, no doubt dialing 911.
“SOMEONE HELP ME!” The truck driver screamed. “ARE YOU CALLING THE POLICE?!” “YEAH! I GOT IT!” Said another man.
I knew I had moments. I motioned with my one good arm to the truck driver to come closer, which he did. I reached down between my legs and Grabbed my cell phone, which I sat on in case someone called, I would feel the vibration on my ass. I know, it seems juvenile, but I never missed a call, no matter how loud the radio was. I handed it to the truck driver, and mustered the strength to say weakly, “Amy.”
The truck driver began crying almost uncontrollably at this point. “What? Amy? Is that your wife? Oh shit, come on! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you!”
I motioned again for him to come closer and whispered, “Its okay. Brakes..broke.”
“Oh Christ, your brakes went out?!”
I nodded. “Tell Ricky…always here, monkey.”
With those words, I found that I could not summon the will or the strength to take another breath. I relaxed and waited for what I’d hoped would be the “White light”.
It didn’t come. There was a flash, a bright flash of white, and I was standing in…well, it was nothing. Just blackness. I was illuminated somehow, and standing before me was a man I’d know anywhere. I’d never met him in person, only seen the painting of him that my grandparents kept. It was my mother’s brother, my uncle, and my son’s namesake.
“Uncle Rick?”
“Hello Danny.”
“What…are you doing here?”
“Well,” He said in a friendly tone, “I’m your sponsor, it’s my job to bring you in and help you adjust to your new life, and I have to say that I’m very glad to finally meet you.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you, too, but….you’re...”
“Dead, yes.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Wait,” I said, “why?
“Well, something to do with having a big damn piece of metal in your side, brain hemorrhage, and severe internal thoracic bleeding. You were gone before the paramedics even got there.” He said all of this with a casual indifference that, quite honestly, pissed me off.
“Really? Gee, anything else?”
“Yes, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss.” He said.
In an instant I was in a very cozy living room, with a large stone fireplace set against the far wall. Pictures adorned every wall. My grandmother, grandfather, my mom and her brother Ned, a few with my mom and Rick, and…
“Is this me?” I asked, pointing at a picture of a toddler asleep in the room I knew as my old room in Tennessee, the room where I was afraid to go to sleep at night because of the nightmares every single night.
“Yes.” He said, nodding as he sat in a large, overstuffed chair and picked up a can of coke which…was that there a moment ago?
I glared at him, suspecting that it was he who was the demon in the house which gave me the nightmares. I had supposed that it must be a demon, as no normal child would have such horrific nightmare every single night.
“No, it wasn’t me. It was a demon. I taught you how to stop him.”
I remembered that one night, in the middle of a nightmare, I stopped it by somehow saying the word “mom” in my dream, which made the entire nightmare dreamscape melt away, and I woke at that instant, scared, but at least I’d not endured the rest of the nightmare. To that day I’d still not known what caused me to think of that.
“How?” I asked incredulously.
“Subliminal suggestion; it’s normally not allowed, but I made my case and got it approved. No one who was shown what I saw would have allowed such misery to continue, especially to a child.” He explained, taking a sip of his coke.
“You were there?”
“Yes, I was. Please, sit. We have a lot to talk about.” He said calmly.
I eyed him suspiciously as I sat on the…wow…very comfortable sofa, still confused.
“Pepsi, I think you like, isn’t it?” He asked.
“Yep. I’m a Pepsi man.”
“There you go.” He said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flash of blue, and on the table next to me, a can of Pepsi materialized so quickly it was almost as if it was already there. I wrapped my hand around it to find that it had already began sweating, it was warm in this room, owing to the fireplace, I supposed. Glancing at a window I saw that it was snowing. I took a sip from the can and it was…not Pepsi.
“This is Coke.” I said, harshly.
“Sorry. Here.”
I took another sip and..yep. Pepsi. Actually, the best Pepsi I’d ever had.
“So,” Rick said, “Welcome to Heaven.”
I laughed lightly, “Heaven?”
“That’s right. Heaven, or, at least my heaven.”
“Wait…if I’m dead, what about…”
“Ricky and Amy? They’ll be fine. They will have a few hard years after your death; Amy will marry a few years later and the man she marries is a good man. He will accept Ricky as his own, and love him as he would his own son. The truck driver delivered your message, and Ricky will grow up to be a fine, strong man and never forget you and the love you gave him, he will join the Army, like you did, only as an officer, and a doctor at that! He will still visit your grave often. Amy and John will never let him forget how much you love him, and John will never try to replace you. In fact, it was John who will take him, once a month to talk to you. And talk he will. You will hear it, when the time comes.”
At this, I began to sob uncontrollably. Rick, ever calm, looked at me understandingly. “Danny, I know this is hard right now, but this is not a bad thing. Death is a part of life, and you will not long be apart from Ricky or Amy. It is a few years, it’s nothing! Time means nothing here. Time is whatever you want it to be. When it is Ricky’s time, he will join us here, it is preordained. Just as you joining me here was preordained.”
I looked at him with tear-filled eyes. Barely comprehending what he was saying.
“It has been a long time,” He said, “Since I’ve seen sadness like this. I’ve never sponsored anyone before, so believe me, it’s just as hard for me as it is for you.”
“YOU DIDN’T LEAVE YOUR FAMILY! YOU DIDN’T MISS YOUR SON GROWING UP!” I screamed, tears rolling down my face like the torrents of rain on that very morning.
“That is true, Danny, I never had a child, I cannot know your pain right now. But I can assure you that everything will work out, it always does, and Ricky’s future is not a sad one. It is difficult for me to feel badly when I see what a good life he has ahead of him. Listen, I know you cannot see this, but maybe knowing this will make you feel better. Do you know how Ricky loves to watch the Scrubs musical episode as a baby?”
Barely able to talk through my sobs I replied “Yes, we watched it together all the time.”
“That’s right. Do you know that silly little show and your time together watching it meant so much to him that even thought he was a baby when he saw it, he never forgot it; it planted the seed in him that drove him to become a doctor. He will save countless lives, and it’s because of the short time you spent with him.”
“That helps very little.” I said, sarcastically.
“Now THAT is the response I would expect from you. You know, I’ve watched you for your entire life. You were always Mom and Dad’s favorite. I think they got me back through you, and when you named your son after me, not only was I honored, but it gave them a kind of peace. You’ve done well, Danny, and that is why you’re here.
“Oh, Good,” I sighed, finally resigned to accept the hand I’d been dealt. “And just what the hell do I do now?”
“Well, you’ve got some choices to make.” Rick said, smiling as he took a sip of Coke. “Man, I love Coke, far superior to Pepsi in every way.”
“Except that Coke is made from dead babies, everyone knows that, so enjoy your refreshing can of murder.”
Rick chuckled. “So, heaven; it’s not really heaven, you know. That’s the name that man gave it.”
I raised an eyebrow at this. “Well, it’s not hell, right? That’s good, right?”
“Oh yes,” He replied. “Much better than that place.”
“What is hell like” I asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Sure I do, I mean, if I have no basis for comparison, how can I appreciate what I have?”
“Well, I guess I can’t argue with the logic. But hell is not something that can be shown or described, it’s a very personal thing. You have a hell, you know. I have a hell. We all do. We simply can’t manifest it in this place. If we went to hell, they would manifest quite readily, and it is likely that we would never leave, because we would be so tortured, that leaving that place would be the farthest thing from our thoughts, and that is what it would take to leave, a simple desire to do so, that is the power we have as residents of heaven.” He explained casually.
“Okay, so no on the hell thing.” I said.
“Heaven, is, quite frankly, whatever you want it to be. Ever see the movie ‘What Dreams May Come’?”
“Sure.” I said, taking a sip of Pepsi. “Good Pepsi…still cold.”
“I know, cool, huh?” He nodded. “It’s like that. You are in my heaven, after you are processed, you will be allotted your heaven. Ricky will get his own, mom and dad theirs.
“Wait, theirs? I thought you said heaven was personal.”
“Mom and Dad’s fates are intertwined. They are soul mates. They cannot, nor will they ever be, separated. I’ll explain that later, just…let me finish.”
“Right, sorry.” I said, blushing.
“So, you’re in my heaven, you will have yours, and you can make it whatever you want. You know those video games you like so much?”
“Hell, yeah!” I exclaimed.
“You can make those real. You can be Mister Chef, if you want.”
“Umm, Master Chief?” I inquired, with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” He said, “Him.”
“Kill all the aliens you want and emerge as a hero to the entire adoring planet. Or relax on an idyllic shore on the English coast. Or hike through a Bavarian forest, whatever you want. That is the benefit of being a resident here. And you can do it forever. You can also visit other people’s heavens. When they die, they can find you, you can find them, you can join them or they you, in whatever you decide your heaven will be at that moment. That way, you will never be bored. If you run out of ideas, or worlds to create, you can just pick someone else’s brain. Did you know that there is a heaven that is essentially a live-action World Of Warcraft? Makes me sick, personally; no imagination, but millions of residents seem to love it. There are rules, too. You must abide by the rules of whomever’s heaven you’re in.”
“Can you…” I began.
“Die? No. Well, yes, if it in the rules, but you’ll just wake up immediately to this.”
At the word “this” the room melted away, and we were back in the blackness again.
“This is like a holodeck.” I said, with a breathy, awed edge to my voice.
“Sure it is. A giant, real holodeck.” He said, with a wink.
“This is amazing.” I gasped.
“I know. Let me see if I can amaze you some more. I told you you would like it here. Think of the fun you and Ricky will have when he gets here!”
T he blackness melted and was instantly replace by a metal floor, whitish metallic walls, and….people. Windows were on the walls, showing a black empty expanse with tiny pinpricks of light shining through. Banks of machines with flashing lights were everywhere, and the people in black uniforms were monitoring all sorts of gauges, monitors, buttons and dials.
*click*”Do you recognize this place?*click* Said an oddly monaural tinny voice I recognized as vaguely belonging to my uncle.
*click* “Do I?!” *click* My voice had the same tinny quality. I looked down at my chest and legs and saw that they were clad in white armor and my vision seemed enhanced. There were various, meaningless numbers and words in the corners of my field of vision flashing by imperceptibly. “No way!” I yelled, as I ran to the front of the room, towards one of the windows. Stretching for a ridiculous distance, a white hull shone in the light of a thousand floodlights and ended at a point far ahead. In front of the point, a multi-engined space ship, firing back at us red bolts which impacted harmlessly on the hull.
*click* “HOLY SHIT!” I exclaimed “This is the Devastator!! And that’s the Tantive IV?!” *click* I took off my helmet, and held it out in front of me, gazing at it. “I’m a stormtrooper?!”
*click*"I guess.” He said. “I don’t know the names of the ships, but I’ve seen Star Wars and yes, you’re here, on this ship from episode 4, and yes, you are a stormtrooper. And now.” He ended by raising what I knew to be an E-11 Blaster, immediately pulling the trigger.
The bolt flew from the weapon and slammed into my chest, and I was violently thrown backwards, slamming against the window, and slumping against the floor, still completely aware of my surroundings but unable to move.
Rick removed his helmet, smiling. “You’re dead.” He laughed. “Now get up, you’re okay.”
With that, I found myself able to move, and stood up, feeling the hole in my armor, which was still smoking hot. “OW! Shit that’s hot.”
“Of course it is!” He laughed, “It just got shot by a laser!”
“Blasters aren’t lasers.” I said, raising my own E-11, and firing at him, but the bolt passed harmlessly through him and impacted on the wall. The workers, still oblivious to what was happening right in front of them, dutifully continued their work.
“Hey! I got you!” I exclaimed.
“You missed. It’s very sad how poor your aim is.”
“It hit you in the chest!!” I said.
“Rules.” He reminded me, Tapping the side of his head with an impish grin. And instantly the deck of the devastator melted away and we were back in the cozy living room, with the fire and pictures. My half-finished Pepsi was still in my hand.
“Rules.” I said, slumping into the comfortable brown couch. “Okay, so, I’m interested, but, what’s to stop me from just making a Ricky or Amy and living my life right here?”
“That would be tempting, wouldn’t it? But you must NEVER do that.” He said with a harshness that betrayed his easygoing nature to this point.
“Well, why the hell not?”
“Because, Danny, you can make a copy of Ricky, and he will do what the rules says he is to do, but he will have no soul. Ricky’s soul is still on earth. It will not be Ricky. He may look and act and grow like Ricky, but it’s not him. How do you think Ricky will respond when he arrives to find you’ve raised a doppelganger? How will you respond when you finally meet the real Ricky and he’s nothing like the one in your heaven? People have tried this before and it has destroyed families and even caused madness in some cases.”
“Okay, so ixnay on the akefay amilyfay.” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Danny.” He said, “This is serious, you must NOT do this. It’s not just a bad idea, it’s an expellable offense. You cannot make a soul. That is the creator’s domain and his domain only. It is an expellable offense and one you cannot come back from.”
He fixed his gaze, now steely upon me, as if waiting for a response.
“Okay.” I sighed, resignedly “I understand.”
“Ricky will not be long, Danny. Remember all the things you can do here. Time means nothing here, you will learn that.”
I gasped, “Oh yeah! How do you know Ricky’s future?!”
“Well,” He said, “That is what I do for heaven. I am a delver, a preparer. I’m not the only one, but there’s always so much to prepare for that no one person could possibly keep up. It takes a lot of focus and time to sift through the different strings of possibility to determine the course that time on a grand scale will take, let alone for one, small human. Can you imagine the chaos if there were an asteroid impact and a billion people died, and we were not staffed to handle that kind of immediate influx of souls? That is only one of the many things we delvers try to equip heaven to cope with. When I saw your death, I immediately went to the bureau to petition to be your sponsor. It was, obviously, granted, and here I am and you are. Before your arrival, I knew your first questions would be centered on Ricky, so several of us got together to isolate his lifestream. We were all very relieved when we uncovered his string and saw that we had virtually no bad news to pass along to you.”
“How long will he live” I asked quietly, tears beginning to well up again.
“Ricky’s body will release his soul in January 2136, while he sleeps, and it will be his choice.”
“WHAT?!” I gasped “he’s going to be 130 years old?!”
“Danny, medical advancements in the future are truly astounding. When I say it was his choice, I mean that he let his telomerase naturally degrade by ceasing to take the serum which will be given to all people to extend life. It’s essentially the fountain of youth. Really amazing!” He chuckled at this last explanation. “Earth’s future and the future of the human race itself for the immediate future is bright. Trust me.”
“Well, what the hell choice do I have at this point?” I asked.
Laughing, he said “Well, you’re right there, I guess! So, shall we go?”
“To the bureau?” I asked.
“Yep. We have to process your arrival and you have to choose your path. You will have to decide whether you will remain as a resident, or if you want to go back.”
“Go back?! I can go back?!”
“Sure. Anyone can go back after their obligation is fulfilled.”
“I knew it.” I sighed, dejectedly.
“Oh, it’s not as bad as all that,” Rick said, chuckling. “Listen, all you have to do is put 20 Earth-years in at the bureau performing whatever job you’re placed in. Once your 20 years is up, you can choose to go back as a pure soul- meaning you remember nothing of your former life. You start over as a new baby in a new place, luck of the draw as to the place and time. Or, you can choose to redo your life, retaining all of the knowledge and information you gained in your previous life. Only one previous life, though.” He laughed. “The most recent one; there are obvious advantages to this. Invest in Microsoft, get rich and live a pampered life in the lap of luxury, become a powerful politican using knowledge of the future to guide your path, etc. You basically start over in a new timestream created just for you, which is why the sting network is so difficult to delve, and why heaven needs residents like me. There are lots of streams in the string network. You went back as a fresh soul in 1978, born to your mom, my sister, and lived this life. But you can go back and change how that life went. Though it is complete chance as to where the path leads. Influenced by others’ choices as much as yours, rather like the Butterfly effect, you see. But loads of people take this option, hoping to change the bad parts of their life, make amends for wrongs they’ve committed, live a better life, or try to, well, you know ‘change the world’ for the better. Do you know there are streams where World War II never happened?”
“Wow.” I said, completely stunned.
“Yep. My favorite stream regarding the stopping of world war II belong to a friend of mine who went back several years ago as a Re-do. He befriended Adolf Hitler as a child and they grew up together. Adolf fell in love with him and they lived together in the swiss alps. Hitler never even got into politics.”
“Your friend made Hitler a homosexual to stop World War II?”
Rick laughed heartily, “I know! Isn’t that the most awesome irony?”
“No,” I said “The most awesome would be if your friend was also Jewish.”
“Touché’!” he said. “There is a catch, though. You cannot, EVER tell anyone that you know of your former life and you cannot divulge your knowledge. You can use it to your advantage, sure, but you may never tell the future. If you did, you would be struck down immediately and brought back, and your option to re-do revoked. You then have to stay here for eternity or go back as a pure soul only.”
“Lame!” I exclaimed.
“Yep. We have rules, too, just like everywhere else. Let’s get going.”
With that the walls of the living room melted away, and Rick and I were standing on a long, straight boulevard leading to the most immense skyscraper I’d ever seen. It stretched up into the clouds and dominated the landscape. It was as wide as any stadium I’d ever seen and shone with an unearthly light. The stop was completely obscured by clouds. I had no idea how far up it went, but judging by the ridiculous width at the base, it must’ve been…
“12 miles.” Rick said, seeming to read my thoughts.
“Would you not do that?” I glared.
He laughed, “It’s what I do.”
I looked over at him and grinned evilly, His face then turned stony as he said “Yo momma.”
I turned back toward the skyscraper as we walked steadily onward, and smiled “Heh,” I chuckled “That’s your sister, you know.”
"Yeah, well,” he said “I never was good at tossing insults around.” He said, not bothering to look at me.
As we walked, I took in the scenery; everything glowed, from the cobblestones on the streets, to the signs that hung in the shop windows, to the wares that were for sale The trees and birds and the people walking along with us. Shops and buildings lined the long boulevard, and as we walked toward the skyscraper, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why shops? Is there money here?”
“Nah. But for some people, heaven is running a shop doing what they love doing forever and ever. There’re bakers and merchants and seamstresses, and blacksmiths, and software engineers and pretty much anything you can imagine. It’s all here. They have to get permission from the bureau to have their shops and plants and whatnot here in the hub – That is what this place is called. Essentially this is the real heaven, where it all happens. It’s pretty much the biggest city in the universe. And it’s all centered on the Bureau. The Bureau is where all processing and delving and adjustment and, well, everything, takes place. It’s the heart of heaven. We have police and busses and trains and everything. The being you would call God we call “The Creator”, and he is at the top of the bureau, overlooking everything. The whole universe from that one room.”
“Can we see him?”
“Oh, sure; anyone can pop in for a visit, but most residents are getting on with their eternities. He loves visitors, though; we can pop in after you’re processed, if you like.
“We’re going to talk to God? Doesn’t he have to answer prayers and stuff?”
Rick laughed loudly at this, “Are you kidding? Do you know how long that would take? He’d not have time for anything else and he’s got a universe to run, you know? Laws of physics to enforce. There’s a department in the bureau for prayers.”
“Of course there is.” I said.
We continued along the way, and the whole walk, people were smiling, waving, saying hi, welcoming us to the city. A bum sitting against a building held up his bottle of, well, something and said “Glad to see you, Danny!” I stopped and stared incredulously.
“Yes, I remember you.” He said, standing up and staggering over to me.
“You’re allowed to be a bum in heaven?” I asked.
“Sure, it’s very liberating. You’re not tied to any one place, free to go from town to town, drink, sleep, and wander. It’s not as bad as you think, and the bureau likes variety. I’m actually the first person to ask for clearance to loiter in the hub. I don’t cause any trouble. Just kind of, sit around and wave at people at different places in the hub.”
“But how do y-“ I looked at Rick, noticing he was smiling at me,
“I think he wants to know how you know him.” Rick said, happily.
“Well, You probably don’t remember this, Danny, but when you were a small boy, the service station your grandfather used to take his car to had a bum sitting out front constantly. I was sort of the mascot, I guess, but you always would sit and talk to me. ‘Bout nothing in particular school, mostly. You were in kindergarten. You were one of the few people in my adult life that accepted me just because I was me, and to my dying day, which was not long after you moved to Tennessee, I never forgot you. So, I’m happy to see you’re finally here.” He held out his hand, and I took it, shaking it vigorously, suddenly realizing that I remembered him. I realized that I was remembering everything about my life with crystal clarity; there were no vagaries, just clear as day memories, with all the detail intact as if they happened only yesterday. I smiled at him. “Tom.” I said, grinning toothily. “You take care of yourself now.” With that, Rick and I continued walking toward the bureau, wordlessly, enjoying the scenery and the cool breeze.
