Page 89 of Lucy Undying

“Women like her? Buying her way up is just another accessory. She hasn’t worked for it or earned it. There’s a limit to how far money alone will get you. Goldaming Life doesn’t mind their cash—we can pass it along to members like you. But we also know the Gold Path only has whatever meaning devotees bring to it. She’s never going to make it through the Celestial Gate.”

Grace Ford looked at Alicia in a way that made her feel taller. Stronger. Valuable and valued. “I’ve seen your file, Alicia Del Toro. You’re navigating the path step-by-step. Not through luck or money, but through sheer determination. Sheer loyalty. Same as me. Those of us who choose to be here, who earn our progress rather than buying it? We always go farther. We’re the true Gold Lifers. You and me.”

Alicia had never felt so seen. She threw herself in with renewed intensity. She’d be like Grace Ford. She’d walk every step of the way with her head held high, absolutely devoted, absolutely focused.

Ben tried to talk her out of investing more (of her money, of her time, of herself) into the Gold Path. She was earning more than she ever had as a receptionist—more in a month than she used to in a year—but maybe that was the problem.

He texted her constantly. Complained when she’d stay at the I-Vee Center for the weekend rush. He even brought her parents’ priest in for an intervention, during which he cried and insisted she was being brainwashed.

Which was exactly what they told her he’d say. She was more disappointed than angry. It hurt that he couldn’t see how important she was to them. They took her photo for their brochures, had her leading more exclusive I-Vee parties, and even put her in regular rotation at their massive I-Vee Vegas Information Center.

And it wasn’t like it was costing her and Ben anything anymore. She wasn’t spending any money on products; everything was complimentary now. When they asked her to begin serving at the Vegas location, they’d even given her a company car. No strings attached.

She and Ben came to an uneasy truce. He didn’t complain about Goldaming Life, and she didn’t try to get him to use the products. Neither of them brought up kids, because as long as they didn’t talk about it, they didn’t have to fight. He loved her, and she loved Goldaming Life, and surely he’d come around to seeing how good it was for them both.

Three years into Alicia’s journey, Grace Ford visited her again. Alicia didn’t recognize her at first. It was still Grace Ford, but perfected. The celestial version; that was the only way Alicia could think of it. The Vegas center, glimmering and brilliantly lit, seemed to dim as Grace Ford walked in, as though not even the Vegas lights could compete.

“Grace Ford!” Alicia said, immediately feeling foolish.

“Alicia,” the other woman said with a laugh, “please just call me Ford. You use my whole name like I’m some sort of celebrity.”

“What brings you to Vegas?” Alicia asked so she didn’t have to admit that she absolutely thought of Ford as a celebrity.

“Blanche Goldaming.” Ford smiled at Alicia’s gobsmacked expression. The president and CEO of Goldaming Life herself. Alicia was desperate to meet her, but of course she wasn’t going to ask.

She didn’t need to. “Come on. I’m taking you with me.”

Ford brought Alicia to a penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows and art Alicia couldn’t even begin to imagine the cost of. From up here, Vegas wasn’t dirty and cigarette-stained and tacky. It was magical.

They snuck through a side door into a private donor meeting. Alicia leaned against the sleek mahogany-paneled wall and listened, awestruck, to Blanche Goldaming’s stirring, inspirational, sparkling anecdotes.

Blanche Goldaming was a spiritual giant, fully committed to the Gold Path and helping as many people as possible walk it. But she was also practical. Real in a way that shocked and inspired Alicia. At one point, she even made eye contact with Alicia, and smiled.

It was like falling in love. Not with a person, but with a concept. With a life.

After, Ford walked with her down the filthy Strip. Alicia loved this walk, with its foul smells, aggressive porn-pushers, and drunken tourists. She loved it because she always reached the I-Vee Center at the end. It was like stepping from the outskirts of hell to the front door of heaven.

Ford didn’t go back inside with her. She handed Alicia a card with her cell number written on it. “We can cleanse your blood, but we can’t cleanse your mind or your soul or your life. You’re close. But only you can get yourself all the way there. When you’re ready to cut away everything weighing you down and slowing your progress along the path, I’ll be your personal sponsor through the next gates.”

It was staggeringly generous, and a wake-up call. Ford was right. Only Alicia could do this next part. She’d been holding on to her old life. Telling herself she could keep both—where she had been, and where she was going. But it wasn’t possible.

She changed her number, cut off contact with Ben and what was left of her family, moved out and on and into Goldaming Life Housing.

Her role changed, too. They transferred her from their Vegas center to their flagship Salt Lake City location. Everything she needed was provided; there was no push to bring in more money, because she was above all that.

Distraction was washed away. She devoted herself to the path with religious fervor. They used all of her: her beauty, her intelligence, her charm, her wit. Everything was valuable in helping others find their way onto the Gold Path, and they gave her opportunities beyond anything she could have dreamed. Not just modeling for their brochures and acting in their instructional videos. She even got to help in the lab beneath the Goldaming Life building. Alicia Del Toro, a girl with no high school education, a girl who was lucky to be a receptionist, processing serums and sorting biological samples!

The lab leader had obviously been through the Celestial Gate, too. Alicia struggled not to stare. She had Ford’s otherworldly grace, her same aura of power and perfection.

Alicia didn’t question miracles anymore. She’d seen too many of them with Goldaming Life. MS cured after switching to an all-shakes diet. Dementia reversed. Cancer spontaneously in remission. But more than that. She’d seen impossible change on a cellular level, in herself and others.

It was in the lab that Alicia figured out what the miracle of the Celestial Gate was. It was in the lab leader’s movements, in the depthless quality of her eyes: even though she looked to be in her twenties, Alicia was certain she was decades older. Maybe even centuries.

That was the Celestial promise, if Alicia could earn it: Perfection through immortality. They were defeating death itself. When they whispered that Blanche Goldaming was living divinity, it was literal. And thanks to Goldaming Life, Alicia could become a god, too.

Alicia worked, and she worked, and she worked. She whittled herself down until she existed for a singular purpose: to perfectly walk the Gold Path.

And then one night, Ford was at the door of her company apartment. “It’s time,” she said.

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