A GUIDE BOOK TO THE AFTERLIFE (2900 words)(some swearing) 2009

A GUIDE BOOK TO THE AFTERLIFE (2900 words)(some swearing)

(Authors Note - Started in May 2000! Found and finished Jan 2009)

I’ m going to tell you about this man. Names have less meaning to me now. You tend to play a part, usually the hero (or heroine) of the story. Sometimes you are a player on someone else’s stage, - the barman, the taxi driver, the woman on the dance floor, the man in the diner. Sounds very urbane huh? You’d be amazed.

Anyway, back when names meant anything, this guy was called Peter. Peter is unusual in that he’s been around for a while now, and hasn’t become a wise-ass. Everyone is a wise-ass. Everyone has a theory.

A theory, God, don’t get me started, I hate theories. Don’t even try.

One day Peter woke up and realised he was dead. No big revelation, no big - oh wow! I just died! Just an odd blank feeling like waking up with a hangover and not remembering what you had done the night before. Oh right. Dead.

A short woman in a lab coat and holding a clip board was looking at him. Did she have glasses? She probably had glasses.

‘Peter Degarre?’

‘Uh .. yes?’, Peter realised he was lying on a park bench. It was a cool day, and no one else was around.

‘Sit up please’, instructed the woman, and shone a medical light in his eyes.

‘I remember a road…’

‘Try not to think about things’, replied the woman, as she continued her examination.

‘I was hit by something…’

‘I know, very tragic, the prime of your life.’

‘Who are you?’, asked Peter

‘I’m Jessie, your greetings officer. You will experience some disorientation at first, but you have passed on with hardly any Redmond Feedback, and your shadow is nine on one hundred percent. Here is your greetings pack.’

Jessie motioned to some papers and things bound up in a plastic folder. If you’ve ever been a college fresher, then you’d know what it looked like.

‘Right.’

‘As you were quite young when it … happened, there are no members of your immediate family to great you, so I was assigned the task. I expect there are a lot of questions you’d like to ask, but right now I need you to fill in these…’

Jessie took some papers from the clipboard.

Peter started to fill them in. It looked like the forms he’d filled in last time he’d got car insurance.

As he ticked the last box, Jessie said,

‘OK, excellent, as a white British male, who has committed no major sins…’

‘Oh, good’

‘… no major sins’, continued Jessie, ‘You have been assigned an accommodation in sector G73982. Your room mate and mentor will be a Mr. Taylor.’

‘Wait.’

‘In the pack are seven tokens, there usage is explained in the pack, ah, you have…’

Something in Jessie’s pocket started bleeping.

It was a bleeper.

‘Fiddlesticks.’, she said, looking at its small LCD.

‘A plane crash, I do hate them.’ she sighed.

‘Sorry.. ah.. Peter, I must dash. Read the pack, that will tell you how to get to your flat.’

Jessie jogged off, and was soon lost to view behind some bushes.

In bemusement, Peter broke the plastic seal of his greetings pack.

‘Commiserations on your recent bereavement…’

Peter looked up. He slung the pack under his arm and walked off.

There were no cars on the streets, everyone was walking on narrow lanes between endless rows of small stone white washed houses. Finding his apartment was so easy it was strange. In a haze his feet seemed to be drawn to the door.

He knocked.

The door opened. A tall middle-aged man greeted him.

‘Hi, you must be Peter?’

‘Ah..yes’

‘Come in, I’m Warren Taylor.’

A few hours later, they were sat drinking tea, all cozy like, and had been talking by the bay windows.

‘Most folk like to have a wander around at first. Take in the sites, explore some of the other levels. I spent my first few months traveling, staying in hostels. I went down as far as sector N. Pretty nasty down there. Not many people with brownie points. I’ve heard tell, that the further down you go, the darker the sky gets, and it’s a lot noisier.’

Warren shrugged.

‘I guess folks just sort of gravitate towards the sector that most suits them. God knows why anyone would choose sector N to live in. The buildings are so beak and pokey. They’re packed in so tight, like rabbit hutches.’

‘Can’t they leave?’

‘I guess so. I don’t know. They wouldn’t fit in here anyway.’

Peter considered this spiritual form of snobbery.

‘And upwards?’

‘I went as far as Sector D12…D something or other.’

‘What was it like?’

‘More rural.’

‘What about angels and demons?’

Warren laughed and shrugged.’ It’s just us.’

Peter was in a bar somewhere in the lower sections of sector P. He’d hit a ghetto of peoples from America, who had died round about 1930 to 1970. The sounds and smells were incredible. The sewers were not open, but if you picked up a manhole cover, and looked down into it, you would see a fast flowing river of raw sewage. Down here, it sounded like an industrial complex built beside a half constructed airport.

‘Fucking tourists’, snarled the man in uniform next to him.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I said.’ repeated the man, ’Fucking tourists.’

‘Guilty as charged.’ smiled Peter.

The man barked in laughter.

‘English right?’ Peter’s comment seemed to have disarmed the man slightly.

‘Yep’

‘Upper levels FNG I bet, and I bet you decided to see the lower sectors first right? Haven’t been up yet, I’m right? Right?’

‘Your right, how did you know?’

‘They all do.’

‘Where’d you start?’

‘Round here, that’s a kinda personal question. But I’ll answer it anyway. Sector fucking S man, fucked up my shit, too much jungle work.’

‘Vietnam?’

‘Fucking Guadalcanal. I went as low as V, when I arrived. Shit, that place was a drag. And the guys there all told stories…’

Peter looked across at his talkative companion, ‘What?’

‘You don’t even want to know man. Below V, you’re getting into genuine hell. Pitchforks, fire and brimstone, the works.’

‘Really?’

‘You just call it a day right here my man, there’s nothing below us but shit. Take it from someone who seen hell on earth and hell on .. er .. hell.’

‘World War 2 I take it?’

‘Uh-huh. You sector G’s and sector H’s are all so squeaky clean coz you never did anything. Shit, I dropped 5 levels for just picking up a fucking rifle.’

‘But who decides?’

‘That my friend I don’t know. Karma, maybe.’

After a pause Peter pointed out the window into the murky street, at a group of shaven headed individuals dressed in robes.

‘Who are those guys?’

‘Dunno, a cult probably. Lots of them down here.’

‘Religious cults? But surely in the afterlife…’

‘Uh-huh? It may have escaped you, but did any of your questions get answered? When you die, you expect to get the answer to the meaning of your existence. Why was I here? Why was I born? Then you’re here. And this is it. It’s as meaningless as being alive was. Religions flourish here. Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, the whole fucking ball game.’

‘But how do they explain…jeez.. how do they…’

Peter waved his arms around in an all encompassing gesture.

‘Same way they always did. They make it up!’

Peter put his head in his hands.

‘Wanna know my theory FNG?’

‘OK’, replied Peter.

‘Aliens.’, the man stated as if that explained it all. Peter shrugged and waited for more.

‘This guy told me, a wanderer, he reckon this whole set up is benevolent time traveling super aliens. The thing is, we ain’t dead, we just think we are. This is a parallel dimension or a human zoo in some other galaxy or some shit.’

‘I don’t understand. There are people from every period of history here.’

‘The aliens fixed it so that we all come here. They take our bodies at point of death and replace them with simulacrums. Then they put us here to live out eternity.’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Does this look like how you imagined the afterlife? Like anyone did back in the world? This is the reality. This is the nearest thing the aliens could give us that would make any sense.’

Peter didn’t know what to say to that, but who would. This guy was nuts right?

And then there was upwards. And no questions got answered there either. There was more sheep though. And other animals, why not?

Sheep lead relatively blameless lives, the lazy bums.

Peter was sat on a grassy ridge overlooking a flock of them. A material existence of munching on grass followed by an eternity of munching on grass.

Suddenly one looked up, grass hanging from its limp mouth, with a profound look of amazement on its sheepy face. Then it disappeared in a flashing Star Trek special effect. Sometimes they did that. Peter didn’t know what it meant.

The people in Sector E Peter found slightly tiresome. Like they had figured it all out, but weren’t about to divulge all their secrets to the lowly sector G purgatory dwellers. He found himself feeling inadequate around them, like he wasn’t good enough company.

And they all seemed obsessed with getting into the next sector up. Spiritual social climbers.

‘Ah, lovely view, yes?’ said a woman who had sat down beside him. There were a lot more women around as well.

‘Yes’, replied Peter,’ It’s very pretty, the mountains look very far away.’

He examined her. She had dark skin, and wore her jet hair in long ringlets framing her noble face. A word came into his head. Ancient.

She smiled, ‘I’m Rel, Babylonian if that’s what your wondering. I died in 650 BC.’

‘I thought people from different time periods stuck to their own areas?’

‘There is a little bit of mixing. And besides, I’m allowed a bit of lee-way. I’m an administrator.’

‘Oh really? I didn’t realize people had to .. uh…administrate.’

‘Hmm.. oh yes, there’s plenty of work to be done. New arrivals, sector disputes, that sort of thing.’

‘Wow. I haven’t seen any violence yet.’

‘It happens. It’s harder to do, seeing as everyone is dead. But it happens.’

‘I have a question, while your here.. What is this all about?’

‘That I can’t answer.’ replied Rel, ‘What did you believe when you were mortal?’

‘I dunno, I was christened, but I never really …I died young, I guess I thought I’d put off thinking about it until later.’

‘Then you may find it harder to deal with. Or easier.’

‘But I can’t…’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give out clues’, said Rel and laughed.

‘I just can’t see that this is it. Eternity.’

‘Who said it was eternity?’

Peter opened his mouth and stuttered, ‘Not … eternity?’

‘Hah! I must be slipping, that was a definite clue!’

Peter looked like he was about to grab her.

‘I’m sorry, I’m only joking, I’ve no more idea than you. I just like teasing new guys. I think everyone has to find there own way.’

‘Maybe I should be getting back to Taylor. He’ll be wondering where I got to.’

‘Listen, Peter.’ Rel said in a placating tone, ‘My theory is this, for what it’s worth. There is no life, no afterlife, just an endless journey. We were born to a place and when we died we came here. And when we are ready to leave this place, like the sheep, we will move on to another place. And who knows after that? On and on, until we achieve spiritual oneness and are content.’

Peter mused on this and thought that she made a lot of sense. But what did she know, she was just a broad right?

Then he met me. Who am I? That doesn’t matter. Unlike everyone else in this little drama I didn’t have a theory, I’ve had enough of that. I met him in sector G when he’d got home from his travels. What can I say? I was slumming it.

Time had passed and he’d moved out of his flat and into a house with some gal that had died young as well. Like is attracted to like I guess, they were so narrow minded they didn’t even change their time frame.

I’m a drifter, I drift from sector to sector, era ghetto to era ghetto.

I met him outside his house, I was lying down on his lawn, soaking up the sun. Usually when I do this in sector G I get shouted at but Peter surprised me by bringing out two bottles of beer and sitting down beside me.

‘Thanks stranger’, I said, blowing the froth off.

‘It’s local though, non alcoholic.’

‘Pff, yeah, you need to go to hell to get a decent beer. I prefer wine though…’ I mumbled and scratched my beard.

‘I’m Peter, been here about a year.’ he said.

‘Yeah, how come’s you didn’t kick me off your lawn?’ I asked, squinting at him.

‘No one has ever done it before. And besides, I think I recognize you.’

‘Heh’, I said, ‘Maybe you do.’
‘You must have been one of the first then?’

‘One of them? I was the first.’

He seemed confused, ‘But people, I mean humans, were around before you.’

‘Yeah, I was the first to arrive here, in this place. The rest came later, no matter how long they had been dead. There are ancient homo sapiens living in a Sector E ghetto that are older historically than me, but I was the first here.’

‘Why?’

‘If I was to guess at that I would be theorizing, and I hate theories.’

‘Right.’

I opened my robe a little to feel the sun on my chest. After a while he said,

‘You’re different than I would have thought. Talk differently.’

‘Yeah? You try wandering around here for two thousand years bub and see how you talk.’ I replied curtly.

‘Sorry.’

I took a big tug on the bottle.

‘I’m just resting, thanks for the drink, but I was done with these sorts of conversations a thousand years ago. Years? What does that even mean in eternity?’

Peter smiled and said nothing. I could see that he wanted to but didn’t want to offend me. Eventually I smiled and gave in,

‘Go on then kid, ask me one question. Just one though.’

He seemed to think for a long time.

‘I like it here, and over the last year I have learned a lot about how it all works. I’ve got everything I need and everything I want, but I guess my question would be, where is the spirituality? I mean, I don’t think I was expecting it to be all harps and clouds, but I had to fill out forms when I got here, and the paper work I had to go through to get this house made my mortgage back in the world look like a post-it. There is religion here, and churches and mosques, but no one has any more of an answer than they did when they were alive. In short, I don’t want to know the answer, but if there is an answer?’

I had to smile at that one.

‘Ah, but what is the question? You’re looking at it from your limited human perspective kid. Time. Space. That all goes on in your head. When I first got here I was angry. It wasn’t what I had been promised. Then when the others came they wanted answers and I couldn’t give any to them. Whoever, whatever set this up, set it up on a human level, not a spiritual one. There is nothing to strive for, just be content with simply being.’

He didn’t seem very happy with that, ‘There has to be more than that. You sound like an atheist!’

I drank from the beer bottle and then handed it back to him half full,

‘Now your just insulting me. Look beyond labels Peter. If you want to be something more than human then stop thinking like one.’

He shrugged desperately, ‘That doesn’t even mean anything!’

‘There you go again, using words like “meaning”, you’ll have a “theory” next.’

I got up to go,

‘Mark my words kiddo. Don’t become a wise-ass like the rest of them.’

‘Wait!’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll pass this way again sometime. Maybe I might let you ask me another question!’

He watched me go, then turned and walked back to his white-washed house. His young wife came to the door and said,

‘Who was that?’

Peter shook his head, ‘Someone who’s done with names.’

She looked at him quizzically.

‘At first I thought he was a low sector traveler, but then it occurred to me who it was. Beard, sandals, robe.’

She was less than impressed, ‘There’s probably thousands of people here that claim they are him.’

Peter passed the bottle I had been drinking from to her,

‘Try it.’

‘I’m not drinking from the same bottle as a tramp!’ she said pushing it away.

Peter sighed and picked up a glass and poured the contents of the bottle into it.

‘It’s red!’ she exclaimed.

You better believe it toots. Pure Galilean wine baby, yeah!