John had a way of finding the easy way to do anything. He would find shortcuts for the big things in life, but he would also find shortcuts for the small things, too. You know, those stupid simple things in your life that fill the minutes. Taking the extra few steps to throw out your trash rather than leaving it on the table. It could also be taking the time to look for the remote that you lost instead of wasting minutes of your life watching a show you hate because you don’t feel like standing up. Those decisions add up. Minutes turn into hours and hours into days of your life filled with tiny decisions.
Tiny decisions in everyday life amount to a lifetime of hard work done or hard work avoided. You could set your watch by the lack of John using his minutes for those extra moments of work. Normally, it just adds up to a pile of minor inconveniences. You can’t find your keys because you forgot to hang them, or you end up late for work because you had to fill up when the gas light clicked on. Those inconveniences are like little fires that you have to keep putting out because you refuse to follow through to the end of a task, always opting for the easiest way out.
Then there are the literal fires that can occur from taking the easiest way out. That was what took John’s life. As he drifted off on the highly flammable couch, he was unaware that one of his many shortcuts was going to result in his death. You see, John didn’t feel like finding another outlet to plug in his video game console. The extension cords were already stacked beyond their recommended use. He had at least 20 things plugged into each other at this point. Old wiring overloaded by the pile of energy hogging newfangled machines sparked and lit the curtains on fire.
The curtains were made of synthetic material that, while pretty to look at, made them a bonfire waiting to happen. The curtains set the wall and carpet alight, which in turn ignited the couch and, consequentially, John. The fumes had lulled him into an even deeper sleep, but he awoke just long enough to feel the excruciating pain of the flames. By then, it was too late, and John was headed off to the ever-after. For John, that was truly a blessing.
As the pain disappeared, John became vaguely aware of his new surroundings. His apartment and its hellish fire were gone, having been replaced by a strange theater. The audience seemed captivated by a man in a tuxedo who was standing at an old-school microphone center stage. Scanning the room, John felt as though he’d been transported back in time. The walls were lined with luxurious cranberry velvet curtains. Those around him were sporting every style of dress you could imagine. From aboriginal animal skin loincloths to 1920’s pinstripe suits. Women in ball gowns and children in school uniforms all listening to the well-dressed man.
“Just a few more moments, folks, and we will be able to get started. We just need to fill all the seats. I know you are all pretty anxious to see where you go from here. This is really just a sorting center. If we could all just be patient, we will be able to give each and every one of you the individual attention you deserve.”
The man spoke in a calm ‘business as usual’ manner, but John could see from the faces around him that he wasn’t the only one who was a bit unnerved by this strange situation unfolding around him. There were whimpers and cries from the young, and sighs of annoyance and impatience from the old. Many looked confused, but most looked agitated. As usual, people were not thrilled at the idea of waiting to understand what was going on around them. We, as a species, are extremely impatient.
“That appears to be the last one,” the man half-whispered to someone standing offstage, out of view of John and the rest of the audience. “Welcome, welcome, welcome! Finally, we are all ready to go! My name is Ashar, and I will be leading you through this process. As you can see, every seat is full in this packed house event. Welcome to The Great Scoring! Here is where you, yes you, get rewarded or punished for the activities of your lifetime! Isn’t that exciting?”
John wasn’t part of the collective gasp. He wasn’t surprised by it either. This was the first time he felt pretty secure in his social standing. Unlike the others, he was positive he hadn’t done anything to warrant any negative strikes on his record. The theatre style chair felt extra comfy as he leaned back smugly. The arms of the chair flipped open, and tablets flipped over the lap of each audience member.
*** Starting Score: 000 ***
“Your scorecards are now in front of each of you. Raise your hand if yours doesn’t read triple zero,” Ashar paused. “No one? Nope, no hands. Perfect. Alright, we will start with an easy one. Audience participation is encouraged here. If you feel you are not given the points you deserve or you are being penalized in error shout out. We will review the highlight reel and see if you are correct.”
A large screen was revealed behind the man as the cranberry curtains parted. A slideshow of moments was being scrolled through behind him. These moments were pieces of the lives of the audience before him. Cheers and hoots came from different directions as people saw their lives depicted before them.
“Who here loved? Yes! Who loved? That’s 500 points!” He yelled enthusiastically. “Yes! This is fantastic!”
John nervously looked down. His screen read 500. Thank God.
Jeers were heard from some of the seats. Two seats down from where John sat, a man stood and shouted forcefully, “That is bullshit! I loved! I had a wife and kids! I loved!”
“You heard the man, put it up!” Ashar twirled toward the screen, finger pointed.
Flashes of the man came faster and faster. In each one, he was preoccupied as those around him were crying out for him. One image showed his wife stranded on the side of the road, calling his cell phone to get help, and then an image of him clicking the ignore button so he could go back to napping. There were the times at his son’s baseball games where he never looked up from his phone, too invested in his crushing of gems to even watch the boy bat. There was one in which his daughter called his name over and over as he ignored her before she eventually just stopped trying. Shame filled the man’s eyes and he sat back down. The minute his butt hit the chair, the film stopped.
It was no big surprise that the others who had been objecting to the score had already sat back down. John chuckled as he realized that people wouldn’t be so quick to object to the ruling if they had to see life not just through their own eyes, but also through the eyes of those around them. He on the other hand knew his life would be cut and dry.
“What’s a passing score?” A teenage girl cried out from the crowd.
“Good question, young lady! I guess all those years of being graded have prepared you for this moment. Five hundred... and one. 501. That is all you need to get to the good side. 500 and below, well, I am sorry to say you will be headed somewhere really unfortunate. But let’s not worry about that now. Let us focus on the questions at hand! Who is ready?” Ashar changed his tone from sullen to excited in an impressive 180-degree twist.
“Now, now, people. You’ll need to quiet down to hear the questions. Alright, here is the next one. Who here was a thief?”
The energy in the room changed instantly. Some hung their heads, already sure they would be losing points. Others peeked through fingers at their score, afraid to see the truth. John knew he was safe and only looked down out of human curiosity.
*** 500 ***
“Here’s where it gets tricky my fellow travelers. You’re not going to lose a set amount of points. You lose points for each individual theft, and sometimes those thefts were worse than others. For some you might lose one point, others may take ten. Any objections? Anyone see this as unfair?”
One lone woman stood up, hand raised in defiance.
“Brave, aren’t you? My producer is telling my you lost just one point,” he called to her as he pointed offstage.
“It’s wrong,” her voice quivered as she protested. “I’m no thief.”
“Bring it up!” He called, twirling toward the screen once again.
The screen sat there, black, on
the wall.
“Bravo, my girl! You were right. Give the woman her point back!” Ashar exclaimed. “Moving on. Did you sacrifice for others?”
The questions went on and on, and people watched as their scores bounced up and down. There were more objections, and, more often than not, the person who was objecting was shown footage of themselves breaking a rule or otherwise coming up short. To their credit, when faced with the truth, they were able to acknowledge it. Everybody saw changes in their numbers except one. John sat and waited. 500 points wasn’t enough. He needed that one extra point to push him over the top.
The longer he sat there, the less smug he felt. “Did you cheat? Were you kind to animals? Did you lie? Were you honest even when it hurt you? Did you build others up, or tear others down?” John began to focus on the words. The crowd was flooded with emotions and memories, moments in each of their lives during which they made decisions, but John had nothing. Now, he was faced with the grim reality that he hadn’t done what was necessary to go to the good afterlife.
“Did you kill another human being for fun?” Ashar seethed. “You know you are out there. There are three of you. Stand up.”
A rather frightening man stood proudly, followed by a plain looking, middle-aged man. The second man could have been anyone. He looked like every substitute teacher or cubicle pencil-pusher you had ever seen. “That’s two, but you know who you are number three. Stand for us.”
Each person began turning their attention to the people seated beside them in an effort to see if they were sitting next to the murderer. The seat next to John creaked, and his head just about snapped off as he turned just in time to watch the very tiny older woman stand up.
“That’s what we want to see. Bravo! You did it, now you need own it. I hate to inform you three that while we let you play along for a little time, it was all just a ruse on our part. You never had a chance to go up. You knew that though, didn’t you? You knew where you were headed this whole time. Shame of it is, you can never get those points back, no matter how many good deeds you do. It is the “for fun” part. See, there are all kinds of murder, not the method by which you did it, well... It is just never okay to end a life for fun. Sorry, but thanks so much for playing along with us tonight. My producer sure did enjoy watching you have even the tiniest amount of hope.”
The seats in which the three thrill-killers sat became trap doors that dropped the condemned down through the floor and out of the theater. The crowd erupted in applause. Ashar stood before them, staring proudly into the crowd. Justice was served, but would those cheering be lucky enough to escape the same fate?
“Moving on,” he called out. “More questions, and more points to be handed out! Who here donated their organs? 100 points! Who gave most of their money to charity? 50 points! Adopted? 50 points! The points keep rolling in!”
Ashar piled on the points. The next 100 or so questions were meant to add to people’s tally, but John sat there watching others react in joy to the upward swing, yet unable to do so himself. *** 500 *** stared back at him. If only he had just tried to engage in the lives of others just once in his life he could have that one measly point that was eluding him. It was no consolation to him that he wasn’t losing any points. Sadly, there was little difference between having a score of 500 and having a score of 1. Either one got you a one-way ticket to eternal damnation.
“There is one very special person in attendance today. Joan Waters please stand up,” Ashar said, his voice having taken a serious turn. “Everyone, please, take a look at Joan. She is a real-life hero. Joan, this is for you.” He spun towards the screen, arm extended.
Joan was shown playing with her children in the park. They, along with her, were smiling and giggling. Two little girls played, pigtails bouncing as they ran up and down the playground equipment. The next clip was of dinners being plated as those twin girls, now a few years older, chattered over each other noisily as they happily recounted their day. Followed by moving snapshots of dances, graduations, weddings, grandchildren being born. Then the final moment, Joan, in slow motion, realizing her granddaughter was going to fall in a raging river.
Time slowed so the audience could see the choice being made in the woman’s eyes. As she dove towards the child, she knew she could save the child, but not herself. She flung the child back towards her parents, but fell into the churning water. As she was sucked under the water, the screen went black. Ashar turned slowly back towards the woman. His applause was deliberate and slow. The rest of the room joined in, not a dry eye in the house.
“Joan, your granddaughter will go on to do amazing things, and every one of those accomplishments will be dedicated to you. You changed history in that moment. Your selfless act inspired the woman who will one day grow up to discover the beginning of the path to defeating cancer. Her work will be the bridge that others use to eradicate the world of those destructive diseases one by one. She will do this for you. You saved millions that day, not just one.”
“My producer wants you to know that, as our honored guest, you’ll be getting early access. No more questions for you, Joan. You get to head off to your eternal reward right now. Bless you, Joan. You are an inspiration to us all. One more round of applause for Joan, please, everyone. She has somewhere to be.”
As the crowd clapped, Joan, in a shimmer of the purest light John had ever seen, disappeared out of the room. The sight was both beautiful and discouraging for John. He was running out of hope that his fate would be as wonderful as Joan’s. It didn’t help that Ashar had rebounded back into the questions by asking negatives again.
“Physically injured another for no reason? Broke another’s heart? Cheated in a game?” Ashar’s questions were coming faster now. There was no longer a break in between. His voice began to blend into one long sound like that of an auctioneer. Good, then bad, back and forth, points up and down. The audience was worked up to a crescendo of emotion. Fingers dug deep into the arms of the chair, John willed his number to tick upward with all his might.
“Last question folks.” A collective deep breath was sucked in. “For one point, will anyone other than your own mother miss you now that you are gone?”
John gasped and fumbled with his scoreboard hoping to see 501, but Ashar clapped his hands before the audience could check one last time, and with that clap, the room was emptied.
Interplanetary Pick up
Most gases in homes stink. There is the noxious smell of the gases that are caused by the human digestive system. Natural gas has a chemical added to it so you will know when it is leaking in your home. Ammonia and bleach both smell clean and awful at the same time. Carbon Monoxide is an exception. There is no smell and, therefore, no warning that it is filling the room, lulling you off to a sleep from which you will awaken. John was one of the hundreds of unlucky people who pass away from this silent killer each year.
For John, it was as simple as sliding under the covers and never waking up. Relatively painless compared to the many other ways a human body can give out. His mother was not surprised that John went out of this world in such a mundane fashion after living such an uninspired life. She mourned her son after his passing, but more so she mourned the life that should have been lived.
John’s slumber was interrupted by a feeling of being shot into the cosmos out of a giant sling shot. The energy that made up John, but not his physical being, was sent hurling out into the vacuum of space. His being could travel at a speed much faster than any number ever imagined by the top minds on the planet Earth. It all came to an abrupt stop as he was sucked into a body that felt foreign. At over eight feet tall, this body was far taller than John had ever grown to in his human form, but it was also much slimmer. A lifetime of vegging out on the couch had given John a round appearance.
Now he was standing in the body of a giant, thin, purplish Adonis in a room dominated by chrome and Lucite. It was beautiful in its starkness. Everything wa
s so shiny and perfect, not a piece of clutter anywhere.
“Welcome back, Resnoir”
“Resnoir?”
“Oh, I am so sorry. I was resting my eyes for a moment when you returned. Let me plug your memory unit back in. Just sit down and relax while I upload your inventory and import your experiences. Do you want to keep them in your main unit, or do you want to place them in the collective storage while erasing them?”
“Erasing my experiences?”
“You know what, Resnoir? You don’t have to decide just yet. I’ll just upload your inventory and we can go from there. Sit. Relax. This will all make sense when I’m finished.”
The strange little man curled his green fingers around a set of what John could only describe as joysticks. A beam of prismatic light worked its way to the center of John’s head. The beam held more than just light. John was almost knocked over as his brain was filled with the memories of Resnoir. He had never been so grateful to be seated. The sensations he was absorbing were overwhelming.
As the download progressed, John began to identify more as Resnoir and became more capable of processing the knowledge he was having entered into his brain. The puzzle pieces were falling into place. Thoughts connected to others, stringing together several series of memories and building him into an entirely different being. John was but a tiny piece of this collective whole. This being was made up of the lifetimes of multiple other species. Each one independent, yet part of the collective all the same.
“Finished,” Johab quipped.
The Many Afterlives of John Robert Thompson Page 10