Death.
Is it slow or fast? Painful or numbing? Mankind have agonized over that mystery for as long as it was sapient, but the answer always alluded us...because only the dead know, but the dead don't talk. Which, if you think about it that way, means that I can't be dead either, right?
I mean, standing disembodied in a starlit void with what seems to be two colliding galaxies beneath your feet doesn't exactly match the Christian representation of Heaven (no pearly gates, no singing Angels, no fresh clouds) it was certainly awe-inspiring. As for why I jumped to this being the afterlife of some Divine being and not just a dream? Because I doubt someone with their brain splattering on the sidewalk can dream.
The last thing I remember was walking down the street with my earpods in, reading the latest chapter of a new favourite web novel of mine, when BAM! Honking truck horn, dirty silver chunk of metal rushing towards me, and my own terrified face reflected in the scratched glass of the windshield.
It was all over in a matter of seconds, my poor meatbag of a body being sent sailing through the air before coming down just as hard as the initial impact. My head exploded in more pain than my chest...and then everything went black. That's why I assumed my brains were spilling over the sidewalk.
Okay, I was dead, except I wasn't. I was able to accept myself as existing in some sort of "spirit form" right now pretty easily, but that still didn't explain where I was or why I was here. As the average young born at the tail end of the 2000's I had a pretty atheistic lifestyle. Sure my parents were relatively devour Christians but I never really got into the whole "religion" thing. Or rather, I found it hard to believe a God could exist with the world in such a state.
Still, I went to Church a couple times a year, said my prayers when passing a graveyard and obediently took my Sacrament, but I didn't feel any closer to God. Deep down though, I guess I still possessed a certain level of fear regarding death, and hopes that a God really did exist to save me from Hell. With all that said and done, back to the main point-I had somewhat of a respect and understanding of the Abrahamic God, but felt that what I was seeing now didn't quite fit in it. At the very least, it didn't match the TV representation of Heaven, but was more like the cradle for the Big Bang.
"You wouldn't be much off the truth there."
I snapped back to attention in an instant, taking my eyes off the clashing galaxies to see...something. I couldn't describe it to you, and I'm not just trying to sound cliché. Its shape was constantly flowing and shifting, yet Its outline was somehow the same. Colours of all kinds and then some swirled chaotically without rhyme or reason. Even as I watched, several disappeared from their location and showed up mixing with another seconds later. No facial features were visible, yet I could distinctively feel I was being observed.
The most bizarre thing however, and the only concrete characteristic I can give you, was Its shadow. Yes, this gigantic monolithic 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 did indeed possess a shadow. It stretched infinitely long, yet held the form of a normal human, however impossible that may be. As I peered into it, preferring to focus on the only mundane thing in this entire place, the shadow began to wiggle and bulge before exploding upwards and wrapping around the It. When the black receded, It had transformed into a simple black outline. Facial features were still absent, but at least my eyes no longer hurt just from peeping at It. It was only later that I figured the transformation was an act of mercy from the being, shifting into a familiar form I could actually comprehend.
It was only later that I figured the transformation was an act of mercy from the being, shifting into a familiar form I could actually comprehend.
"Thanks for that," I said, my voice echoing strangely in the non-space. It didn't sound like my voice. It was clearer, devoid of the slight nasal tone I'd always hated. It was just… thought, given sound. "The other look was a bit of a migraine trigger."
A sensation, not a sound, but the unmistakable feeling of amusement rippled from the outline. "𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐚. 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬."
"Decanted?" I latched onto the word. It was solid, specific, in a sea of the incomprehensible. I swear I had never even heard of it before, like it belonged in the vocabulary of some sort of sci-fi nerd. Yet only a second after It had spoken, I understood the meaning. "Like… poured out? From where?"
"𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥," It said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. A tendril of shadow, vaguely resembling an arm, gestured to the colliding galaxies beneath our feet. "𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭."
"The… Earth? My body was a vessel?" My mind, or whatever passed for it here, reeled. This was getting even further from the Sunday school lessons.
"𝐀 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭. 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨… 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠." The being said it with no malice, no judgment. Just a statement of fact, like a mechanic noting a worn-out spark plug.
"Right. The splattering." I tried to cross my arms, a habit of defensiveness, and was mildly disturbed to find I had no arms to cross. I was just a point of awareness. "So, if I'm decanted, and you're… not my Sunday school teacher… what happens now? Judgment? Reincarnation? Do I get a scorecard?"
The humanoid outline seemed to consider this. "𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 '𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝' 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐭."
"Fit for what?"
"𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭."