The Theory of Insanity

by Rick Newberry

  She smiles and jogs away. I take a few long strides, catching up with her in seconds. She’s right, the lightly populated avenue, with its springy give and take surface, gives us the freedom to cover significant distance in no time. Without a doubt, the spongy ground is built for speed.

  I approach the neon city of After Life in just a few minutes with Sam still beside me. The night is aglow in the radiance of a million multi-colored lights. Along the sidewalk, a few souls are engaged in some serious window shopping. A crowd of people, smiling and chatting, file out of a movie theater. Music plays in the distance—the bassline and drums of a samba work their way through my head. We sprint into the heart of this vibrant carnival atmosphere. Sam gives me a sideways glance and grins. I slow down and Sam follows my lead, strolling through the deserted streets.

  “What is it?” She’s acting so strange I can’t help but ask.

  “You have no idea, do you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She just shrugs and skips along the avenue. I haven’t skipped since I was three years old and so beg off. It looks good on Samantha, though. I catch up with her again and we navigate through the city like a couple of rabbits on the run.

  “Here we are,” she says.

  We both slow down and amble along the sidewalk toward the old Victorian—The House of Questions. I remember battling my way to reach the front porch just a few days ago…or was it really just a few days ago? “How exactly does this time travel thing work?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We were here two days ago, a million people around us. When I was sent back to earth, did all those people return with me? I’m lost as to how this whole thing—”

  “Listen, Brooks, I might not be able to explain all the science, but I don’t have to.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  It means you’ll just have to walk up to that front door and knock. All your questions will be answered once you’re inside.

  “Wait…what? Did you just say something?”

  Did I?

  “No, you…what’s going on?” I feel for the ComLink earbud. It isn’t there. “Am I reading your mind?”

  She flashes a smile, a surprising response taking me off guard. I’m actually in her head, reading her thoughts. But she’s toying with me, only letting me in on half of what she’s thinking, like it’s some kind of a game.

  It’s not a game, Brooks, it never was.

  “Then why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  Because it’s not my place. Just knock on the door. I’ll be right here when you come out.

  “I want you to come in with me this time. After all, you are my Guide.”

  She blushes then lowers her head. About that…I’m, uh, how can I put it?

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Sam, quit stammering. What’s going on?”

  I’m no longer your Guide. Because you went to The Abyss, our bond is severed. I’m sorry, but those are the rules.

  My heart sinks. I have no soul, no Guide. I’ll no longer have Sam in my life.

  You must be joking. I’ll always be in your life, no matter what happens. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Now please, knock on the door. Your future is waiting.

  Her voice is urgent. She may no longer be my Guide, but her determination is as strong as ever. I turn and pound on the door, my heart hammering in my chest. The door creaks open.

  A short, round man of indeterminate age wearing a formal tux smiles up at me.

  “I remember you. You’re, uh…your name is…it’s Edward, isn’t it?”

  “Excellent memory, sir.” He rewards me with an exquisite smile. “I understand you’ve had quite an adventure.” He stands to one side and motions for me to come in.

  I cross the threshold. “An adventure, huh? That’s one way to put it. So, I guess you’ve heard about Sebastian?”

  He nods. “Yes. It’s a shame, but he did what he thought was right.”

  I turn back to Samantha and wave her in. She glances at Edward. He nods and she scoots across the threshold. She stands next to me and I place my arm around her waist without thinking. I try to remove it before Sam notices my forward gesture, but she grabs hold of my wrist and keeps it there.

  “So, I’m kind of at a loss as to what I’m doing here. Sam said—”

  “Where are my manners?” He scoffs. “It’s teatime. Please, this way.” He turns and ambles down the long hallway.

  I glance down at Sam. “What’s going on?”

  I suggest we just follow him into the den.

  I do as she says. The huge grandfather’s clock and cozy fire make me smile, bringing back memories of my recent “adventure.” Three red leather wingback chairs are positioned near the fireplace. A silver tea set sits on the ornately carved round table. Edward motions to the chairs and we sit. He pours tea, handing each of us a steaming cup.

  I clear my throat. “Edward, that’s quite an unusual name. There must be a story.”

  “It’s a family name, sir. It means guardian.” He pours himself a cup of tea and sits down. “There now, Samantha, have you told him anything?”

  “Oh no, sir, that’s not my place. It’s your honor, sir.”

  “What the heck are you two talking about?” I stand up and move to the window, pulling back the heavy shades. The avenue is well lit and deserted. Turning back to Edward and Sam, I raise my eyebrows. “What gives?”

  “My son,” Edward says taking a sip of tea. He sets the cup down and stands up. “Welcome home. You’ve been chosen.”

  “Chosen? For what?”

  “You’ve been chosen to replace Sebastian as the new Director.” Edward speaks in a matter of fact tone, quiet and full of ease.

  I totter back to my chair and fall into it. “Me? There’s been some kind of a mistake.”

  “No,” Edward says, “you have no soul, you have no Guide, and you saved the world. You have all the qualifications of an excellent Director. Besides, we pride ourselves on never making mistakes. Ever.”

  I can’t help but wonder if Edward is using the “royal” we, or if there’s a committee somewhere in the ether calling the shots.

  Samantha turns to me, her eyes reflecting the glow of the fire. Congratulations.

  “Talk to me, Sam. Please don’t think stuff to me. I love hearing your voice.”

  “Didn’t you hear, Brooks? Sebastian’s gone and you have all the qualities to be our new Director. So, congratulations.”

  “More,” Edward says, “Sebastian never saved the world—though, God knows, he tried. At least he saved you, and that may be all the same. In any case…”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Samantha places her hand on mine. “Say yes.”

  Edward and Samantha wait for my answer. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Instead…

  A log in the fireplace pops. The grandfather clock springs to life. Clong. The sound thunders in my chest, rattling my bones and raking across my flesh. Clong. Nothing prepares me for the way the sound tugs at my emotions, at first despair, then joy, then horror, and then delight. Clong. The vibration pounds its rhythm through my blood. Every terror, every agony, every fear let go of me. Clong. I finally accept the world as it is—the good with acceptance, the evil with forgiveness. Clong. Something inside me embraces the past. The future is here, at last, at last. Clong. I no longer have a body, no soul, no guide. All pleasure is pain, all truths are a lie. Clong. The answer is the word—in the end, the beginning again. Clong.

  “Time,” Edward says. “Time is a gift—a sin to waste. The sounds of the clock remind us of this fact with each passing second. You, my son, feel the vibrations of the clock in your body—you feel it stronger than anyone. You have the gift—you have been chosen.”

  “Say yes.” Sam squeezes my hand.

  I move my hand away and stand up. “What exactly does the Director do?”

  “I’m sorry?” Edward says. “Are you asking
me about the duties of the position?”

  I nod. “It’s a simple question. What does the Director actually do?”

  Edward rises and shuffles to the fireplace. He turns to face me with a grin. I can’t read his thoughts and wonder if he can read mine. “The Director is in charge of the technical program in After World. You’ll set the compass, so to speak—the boundaries of exploration, the thresholds of discovery. For instance, did you know the scientific alliance, under the direction of Sebastian, and led by Albert Einstein himself, were examining the use of black holes to traverse the universe? They were researching the very boundaries of the Window of Opportunity.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows together. “But that means…everything that has ever happened in the history of the world could be open for readjustment. World wars, catastrophes, all the injustices of humanity—it could all be explored, changed, even reversed.” My mind lights up with possibilities.

  “That, of course, depends on the available amount of quantum energy.”

  “Of course.”

  “And,” he continues, “there is also the question of Heaven.”

  “What do you mean by that? What’s the question of Heaven?”

  “For instance, why are there no visiting hours? Why does it need to be separated by a large gate from the rest of the community? The whole “country club” mindset needs to be thoroughly examined, don’t you think? I mean, there must be millions of souls inside Heaven who would love nothing more than to interact with those who, for one reason or another, have yet to be considered for membership, so to speak.

  “Of course,” he says clasping his hands behind him, “it won’t all be wonderous opportunities and heavenly decisions. There’s also the question of the Nefarists. Their constant interference into the universal affairs of mankind has got to stop. I dare say, if you and Samantha hadn’t put an end to their latest misadventures, well, who’s to say what could have happened.”

  “And what about the angels?” I grab hold of his line of thought and run for the goal line, “You know it wouldn’t hurt to get them off the bench and into the game every once in a while. And we need to look into changing the ridiculous problems with communication. And another thing, can’t we—”

  “That’s the spirit.” Eadward’s eyes blaze with promise.

  “Director…” I say in a soft tone, trying the word on for size. “Director Davis.”

  “Questions of historical possibilities, of Heaven—and more—would be under your guidance.” Eadward gives me another grin, one which I can only describe as pure, without pretext. “But I’m going to need an answer, Brooks. Will you be our new Director?”

  Samantha’s hand covers mine. “Please say yes.”

  The ticking of the grandfather clock gives me hope, the kind of hope only possible with endless time. I look forward to meeting Einstein, of making a difference—of being the difference.

  Meditation isn’t difficult. Close your eyes and clear your mind. Imagine floating in a sea of stars at the center of the universe. Breathe in, slow and deep, wait a beat, exhale. Soon, you’ll find yourself on the threshold of infinite possibilities and, with a word, the adventure begins…

  “Yes.”