Page 9 of An Unexpected Ascension
“What?! Can't you just imagine up a car or something? Why are we walking five thousand blocks on foot?” I whine.
“Cars don’t exist here. There’s no need for that kind of laziness.”
“Right. Of course!” I bite out.
Will places a hand on my shoulder, a calmness radiating from his palm.
“Look, if we were all just given whatever we want, there wouldn’t be any joy in eternity. Human souls were created to thrive on self-betterment, to look forward to the next big thing in their lives and since we’re no longer living, what is there to look forward to anymore?”
“I think I’d be just fine.”
“That’s probably the attitude that got you a house way in the outskirts of town.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s keep going before it gets dark out.”
“Oh, it doesn’t get dark here, but once you’re through your penance, you can pay to have the night simulated.”
A maniacal laugh rips from my mouth as my fingers thread through my hair, pulling insanely tight until the sting snaps me out of this downward spiral.
“What did I get myself into?” I groan.
Will grimaces. “It’s not so bad. You don’t ever really need for anything. You’ll never go hungry or tired. You’ll never be worn out or sad. Most don’t even get angry.” He shrugs, knowing that clearly isn’t the case with me. “Good news is you can find comfort in your memory projections.”
“Oh great. I get to keep my memories.”
We continue on in silence. I flush away any questions I had before, the answer not worth knowing. I’m sure I’ll find out later anyway.
If I were to guess, it probably took us a good week to finally get to my place, but we’ll never know. The only way I can interpret time is the length of awkward silence between Will and me.
I’m severely underwhelmed by the light grey box. In the center of the house sits two square windows and a white door in between. The roof is flat and the same size as all four walls. There’s no grass here, just dirt and the sidewalk. It’s so dreary and bleak compared to the rest of Heaven. As if the Gods only held enough inspiration for the focal point, running clear of ideas with each block past the gate.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Briar. Just call me if you need me.” He waves.
“Wait! I don’t have your number or a phone.”
“Just call my name out loud and I’ll appear.” He winks, then treks back the way we came.
“Huh.”Interesting.
The inside of the house is just as drab as the outside. All the walls the same color, void of any pictures or decor. The first room is the living area, a stone bench built in the center, facing the windows.
The living room extends into a pretend kitchen. A row of counters and cabinets that will never be used and a stainless-steel sink towash the zero dishes I now own. There’s even an empty fridge, so useless that it’s not even on.
To the right of the kitchen is a room. I open the white door to what I assume is now my bedroom. There’s a cot in the center and to my relief holds a pillow and blanket. At the very least, I can lie down while eternity presses on.
To my surprise, there is a dresser, empty of course, and a bathroom, for all the times I’ll never have to use it.
It’s like the idea of the house is supposed to bring comfort to those in the afterlife, but it’s so far off that it only does the opposite.
By now, I think I would have woken up if this were just a dream. At least in my dreams I have the ability to create a world I can fall in love with, but here, there’s nothing but rules and begging for forgiveness.
I sit down on the concrete bench in my living room, staring out the window. There, I try conjuring a memory to keep me company, but I quickly realize that I have no idea how it works.
“Memories!” I say out loud. “Projection. Show me my memories! Hello?”
Nothing.
Dang, I should have asked Will how the heck to do this.
