Heaven
He
opened his eyes and took in the blinding whiteness of eternity.
A second ago he was on his deathbed, hooked up to machines, fading slowly out of consciousness. Now he marveled at his hands, which were not ancient and lined with liver-spots, but smooth and covered with youthful flesh.
“Where am I?” he asked.
Suddenly a woman appeared to him. She was clad in a white suit, and her hair was golden. In her hands, she clutched a tablet, and she favored him with a professional smile.
“How are you, William? Much better, I presume?”
“I’m not an old man anymore,” he replied.
“Yes, that’s correct. You’ve died, and now you’re in the afterlife.”
“I didn’t really believe… why are we in an empty expanse?” he asked.
“Well, you haven’t filled it with anything. Where would you like to be?”
He thought about it for a second.
“Nineteen-ninety six. My grandparents’ farm.”
And that’s where they were. He saw the barn and silo in the background, almost swallowed by trees. Everlasting fields of corn across the road. The old house with the wrap-around porch right in front of him. He walked over and sat on the swinging bench and breathed a long, trembling sigh.
“What about people?” he asked. “Can you bring them here?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she replied. “Who would you like to see?”
“My mother,” he said.
The door to the house opened and his mother emerged. She looked to be about fifty-five, and when she saw him, she smiled and went over and embraced him.
“Mom,” he managed, a tear trickling down his cheek.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve been waiting, son. Counting the days.”
He looked past her at the women in the suit.
“What have you done to her?” he asked.
“What do you mean, William? I am here with love in my heart.”
“My mother would never say that,” he replied. “I expected you to start laying in to me for the life I lived. Frankly, I expected a slap on the face.”
“I would never do that, son. I have left all my anger and sorrow behind on the earthly plane.”
“She’s correct,” responded the woman. “There is no conflict or negative emotions here. Those are consequences of mortal existence.”
“My mother without conflict is not my mother,” he said. “I don’t want this.”
Instantly, his mother vanished.
“What about things? Can you give me anything I ask for?”
“Sure,” she replied. “What do you want?”
“I want to unwrap a brand-new Nintendo 64 and play Goldeneye 007.”
“Go in the house,” she replied.
He went inside his grandparents’ house. The kitchen was exactly how he remembered it. The island in the center, the animal tile backsplash, the cookie jars on top of the cabinets. He looked around warily to see if his grandmother was lurking in a corner, but the house seemed unoccupied, and he knew it would be unless he wished it otherwise.
There was a boxy CRT television in the living room on top of an entertainment center. He ran across the wooden floors, plopped down before it, and torn open the red box that held the Nintendo. In a few minutes he had hooked it up to the television and started playing video games just as he had as a child. He did so for about fifteen minutes before suddenly putting the awkward controller down and turning toward the woman.
“It doesn’t feel the same,” he admitted. “I was wanting that feeling I had as a kid. That sense of endless wonder and possibility. I don’t feel that at all. I feel like an old man living in the past.”
“I see,” she said. “Is there anything else?”
“Kristen Sanderson. Senior year. In her cheerleader uniform,” he said instantly.
He heard steps coming down the stairs and there was Kristen, golden hair in a pony tail, the white and blue uniform looking as vibrant as it did in his memory. She walked over to him and extended a hand and then looked behind her at the stairs, beyond where the bedroom awaited. Without a delay, he leapt to his feet and bounded up the stairs like an eager puppy. The white-suited woman waited patiently in the living room, looking down at her tablet and checking her watch ever so often. After about ten minutes William came downstairs looking dejected.
“Why is it not the same?” he asked. “I felt like I was making love to a doll.”
“Because you’re just reliving your old life. Or rather, you’re playing fantasy. You can’t really live here,” she explained. “You’ve died, after all.”
“So I’m doomed here?” he asked. “For all eternity?”
She took a minute to savor the expression of abject horror that came across his face.
“Is this really heaven?” he asked.
“What do you think?” she responded.
“Can you send me back?”
“Not as William. You already lived that life, and as you already admitted, you lived it to the disappointment of those who cared about you. They are gone, and you are gone, and now all that is left is a chance at a new beginning. It’s either that or you stay here. Or you can choose the nuclear option and just end it all for the sweet sanctity of nonexistence. The everlasting bliss of the freedom to not be.”
“Can you make me like a Senator’s son?” he asked.
“Nope. It’s purely random. You might not even return as a person. You could be an ant. Or a barnacle. Or a parasite that lives in the intestinal system of a whale.”
“Christ,” he whispered.
“I know. It’s heavy, isn’t it? Like I said, there’s always nonexistence or the simulacrum that is this place. But you know, that’s what makes life exciting. The chance. The randomness. There’s no thrill without the danger. There’s no wonder when you know every possibility.”
“Send me back,” he said. “I’ll do better this time. I’ll be a humanitarian or a pastor. I’ll do something great, something wondrous. I won’t hurt anybody or live selfishly. I promise. Just give me a fair shot.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Alright, William, if that’s what you truly want. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he said instantly.
She snapped her fingers and he vanished. For a while she made some notes on her tablet until a door opened in the whiteness and a figure emerged, horned, red-skinned, and toothy.
“Another one, mistress?” it asked.
“It’s amazing how little imagination they have,” she said. “He could have used the powers of this place to create a new world of sentient beings. That’s how the universe was created, after all. But they all just want to be players in a game someone created. They like being puppets on strings. Oh well. Send me the next one.”
