Long Live Death: Welcome To The Afterlife

by Mercott, Joshua

  I had to enjoy the festival. If Death saw me straining my eyes on work in the dim-lit setting he’d have my guts for garters. I did all the work I could when he was busy but that was hard in itself. He had his eye on everything. Anyway, I was fortunate I’d completed fifteen. Something was better than nothing. A new voice interrupted my thoughts. It was female, bold yet perky, and it spoke from the main stage using a microphone. They had speakers set up in all the tents and cameras hung from the canopy-ceilings and turned every which way to capture the event so the citizens of Quadrant City could be part of what happened in the Grand Tent. In the dim light, His Majesty looked like a shadow, his presence distinct but his form hard to notice. Everyone kept a wide berth from where he sat. I knew the feeling, that aura he gave off, that unmistakeable sense of dire intent.

  “His Majesty King Death. Everyone.” The female Hefester spoke in a high tone that ululated. Technicians adjusted the instruments on stage and the tinny tunes seemed to highlight this strange-voiced woman. “Welcome to the Moo-Day Concert.” Claps went up, life-forms applauded and whistled.

  Something struck me. No matter how different we all were, all these mixed life-forms in this and other tents, we all clapped the same, smiled the same, laughed the same and danced the same. How can there be such a common thread that connects us all, gives us something to share? When I was true-human in a body on Earth, I scoffed at the possibility of extraterrestrial life although deep down I wanted one of them to come abduct me because I hated my humdrum existence.

  The woman had made introductions and moved off stage. The lights went out and spotlights came on. Colors and smoke played out. People clapped and whistled some more. The familiar voice of the arena announcer took us all by surprise when he presented the main band who’d play for our pleasure until late evening.

  “Here they are. The Doe-Eyed Bastards!” People seemed to know who they were. They were apparently celebrities in Quadrant City but to me the five of them were human beings dressed in gaudy clothes and each member of the band had a huge set of antlers on their heads. I discovered that they weren’t costumes but actual antlers that grew out of their heads, which means they were inhuman. The vocalist had the largest multi-pronged pair. If I could say with any certainty, I’d say this race—I asked one of the courtiers and he told me they were called the Fallacians—were the closest bio-forms to humans.

  Their music seemed to have developed along similar lines because when the rhythm began and they played with such passion, we were all on our feet, tapping to the tune of what I came to understand was Rocktallica. I made up the combo-word for my own reference because it incorporated rock and metallica, music I’d often heard played by other kids on the street near the farm I’d lived on. Music was the one thing that kept me going when I felt alone and lost, and I did acquire an ear for it during the last few years I was alive.

  I don’t know if there are others out there who have no idea how to dance and are as shy as a blushing Tresalia when it comes to such a thing. I am one such person. I do not like to dance, and I ooze awkwardness out of every pore in my body when I do. But the performance given by the Doe-Eyed Bastards, the music, the interchanging melodies, electric guitar and drums, combined with the vocals of the lead singer made even me, who was on my feet like everyone else, dance. King Death smiled, or at least I think that was a smile, but that’s about it, as he sat there throughout and admired the music. I didn’t know, honest, when my head moved to the rhythm and my body followed. If I had paid attention to how idiotic I was being, I’d have seen that I made a sidestep left then right, without moving from my spot, and had my hands beside my head, fingers snapping to the music.

  It must have been so damn ridiculous that mid-song the lead singer Kerano Keravo started pointing at me whom he could see in the balcony adjoining the stage. He must have good noctural eyesight. I was dancing in the dark and didn’t think anyone would notice. He turned to his bass guitarist, then his drummer and to the last two members of his band, the electric guitarist and pianist. They all looked at me now, their antlers facing my direction. In a sudden slump in music while the background choir sang their parts, the whole band imitated my move in sync.

  They left their instruments hanging or sitting, got to their hooves and did my side step, left, right, without leaving their spots. They even snapped fingers at the sides of their heads, a little over their furred shoulders. The music continued, the lead pointed at me and caught hold of the mike. The spotlight was on me for a brief instant and of course I stopped dancing. I was so darn embarassed and elated at the same time. Some of the courtiers nearby clapped me on the shoulder. Suddenly everyone weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. I liked the way music had the power to bring people together and, even though we all had problems, we put them aside in those minutes and just danced.

  A slower number came next and many citizens took to the floor in a waltz. There were strange hand positions and body angles for when it came to other life-forms who had a slow dance tradition where they came from. People paired up and enjoyed the calm flow. The lead singer gave us a song in a language from his own home planet. It was serene, wide open meadows with not a care in the world and hooved animals running free like the breeze and the sea, where love was given freely and freely accepted, where hope soared like eagles on golden wings.

  We felt the meaning more than understood it. I saw people dancing close to each other and there were people who kept a proper distance when they with someone they didn’t know. There was a gap between them and their arms alone were in the right places, depending on the life-form in question. I caught a human couple dancing this way and they reminded me of someone I’d seen near my farm back on Earth. It was a woman walking a dog and from this angle the couple looked much like that, the woman with her serious countenance as if she had thoughts on her mind more interesting than her partner and the man who was doggedly trying to get her attention as he danced to her tune. He led the waltz but she led it more, their arms being leashes of a sort.

  I got up with the intention to wander. I left the courtiers’ balcony, which was mostly empty as government officials went to find their pair and indulge in a waltz. I had no such luck and I wasn’t looking forward to a dance anyway. But I did run into a group of people who sat at the very back at one of the round dining tables. They had seen me and waved me over. People usually weren’t this friendly, must be the liquor.

  “Mr. Reincarnator. We’ve always wanted to meet you. Are you having fun?”

  “I am indeed, thank you very much. And how about you gentlemen?” I shook hands with all five of them—two humans, one Dretma, one Ilyoman and one Hefester—and they genuinely welcomed me like they did a close buddy, although I have no idea ever meeting them and I’m sure the feeling was mutual. But Moo-Day was when all barriers fell and rank was respected but not really recognized. People could mingle, socialize, and be themselves so I couldn’t really blame these men. But in keeping with advice from a dear friend back on Earth I asked myself ‘What’s in it for them?’ and waited to see what need they had of me.

  “I asked her about it, Charlie. She said no, so cut it out, I ain’t gonna ask her again.” I’d apparently arrived in the middle of a conversation between a Hefester plate-stick server and a human being.

  “You know,” said Nern, the Hefester. “You can do so much with so less. Keep it simple, don’t aggrandize yourself. We used to apply that simplicity back when I worked in catering on my home planet of Hefe; even now in Quadrant Catering. It made things faster, more direct. Ask her in the simplest way possible, Charlie, that’s what I told you. No bulging eyes, squeaky voice, shaking hand that was stretched too far by the way.” They all laughed. Charlie grinned and eyed his Karal.

  “How did you guys end up in Quadrant City?” I asked.

  “Funny thing, Mr. Reincarnator, sir, we called you over because we wanted to know how you got here. You’re so young. Reen here,” he pointed to the Illyoman, “was going on eight hundre
d something when he took his life.” They chuckled.

  “Please, just call me Helidon.” I promised myself when I came to the afterlife that I would never lie about how I took my own life to anyone. That would mean dishonoring the very reason I took it. In keeping with my self-oath I told them my story. They nodded their heads and mumbled nice things. “How about each of you?”

  Charlie was the first to share. The short blue-eyed man seemed full of energy. “I ended it when I found out that the love of my life was sleeping with another man. I wanted to kill her but I found I still loved her too much. I didn’t know what to do to make the heaviness go away, so I cut the thread.” We nodded. I felt bad for him but like the other men at this table neither of us judged the other. We were trained in this when first we came to Quadrant City. King Death himself had told us in his orientation speech, ‘You have all taken your lives and no matter how different your reasons and circumstances, in Quadrant City you will never judge another person’s reasons and circumstances for doing so.’ He had gone on to glower and threaten us if we failed to obey, learn fast and pull our weights, yada yada. That’s the King for you.

  Reen, the ancient Ilyoman, was next. The tall thick-skinned ridge-headed entity scratched his spiked chin and flakes of ash fell off. “I couldn’t take the naturally prolonged age.” The others laughed at a joke I couldn’t understand. “You see, Helidon, my species doesn’t like to live a thousand years. But we’re naturally prone to. The older we get the more brittle everything becomes and we have natural herbal medicine to counter that. But, Helidon, I just couldn’t, you understand. Eight hundred years...” He looked at me from under his eyebrow arch and shook his head. We all nodded.

  The human who’d introduced himself as Maxie spoke next. He was blond, fat and had one of the rosiest pair of cheeks I have ever seen on a person. “Got entangled with the wrong supernatural crowd. One second I find an interesting occult conference open to all. I paid for it online, went half the country over to sit through it, they performed a strange ritual and next thing I know I’m dead.” The others complained about the unfairness to him.

  “That’s the problem with the program. Technically, since you willingly participated in a potentailly fatal ritual, if you die you’re considered dead by your own hand, even if you didn’t see it coming” I clarified. They said some things, small talk mostly, exchanged memories.

  Nern, the Hefester, went next. His adjusted his stocky body and his bulging eyes looked up at us from the rim of the table. “I kept it simple. I leaped off the kitchen roof. It wasn’t high enough, I broke my leg, limped to the road, got hit by a speeding Jertix and poof, gone. As Mr. Reinc-I mean Helidon just said, it’s technically suicide.” We nodded.

  Aarna the Dretma volunteered. He was paper-thin, literally so. We could see him because he turned his side to us, which had the same dimensions as a pipe. His head was angular and lean and he had four arms, two on each side. He looked much like a soft-bodied insect. “A plague spread across our city.” He kept quiet after saying that in a surprisingly deep voice. He spoke slowly almost like an old man.

  “Go on, tell him the rest of it. No judgement,” said Charlie.

  “I started it. Culture growth in a contained greenhouse. I let it out as I was paid to. I owed people a lot and couldn’t get out of it. Couldn’t live with myself after. I had killed too many. I let the same plague take me.”

  I didn’t want to make him feel any worse that he already does since coming to this dimension. So I kept from asking how many he’d killed. The guilt on his face meant it wasn’t a small population.

  “Gentlemen,” I said, raising my glass in a toast. They raised theirs with me. “To the reasons we died.”

  “Aye, to the reasons we died,” they said as one.

  We laughed, spoke some more, said our goodbyes and with no official pomp or fuss they let me leave their pleasant company. I had to excuse myself for one unforsakeable reason. I was sitting at the table and munching on an appetizer when I caught sight of her. Elizabeth Krem, on the fringes of the dance floor. If I’d thought she was beautiful back in that clearing on the Von Heisen estate and up close when she helped me get the scoop on Boremasta’s activities, she was a veritable siren now. Many Von Heisens were present in the Grand Tent, and I could see a special cordoned off area for them and in the distance sat the baron and baroness. She must have come as an escort or assistant to one of them, I’m not sure, but all I could think of when I saw her was...nothing. My mind was a blank.

  The light caressed her features. I stood and made my way down to the floor and hid in the shadows as I looked at her. Her lips were enchanting. They didn’t quite have any corners, the two tips had the same color as her skin as if soon they would transform nymph-like into a full-bodied version of lips. Her hair looked like it contained the generosity of the world and her body, limned in blue silk, was like a maiden ship sailing on the current of mystery and magic. There were indeed women as beautiful in the city and in this tent, but she rivaled them all. I don’t know what made me do it, I cannot say where I found the courage. Men of all life-forms were looking at her and I felt jealous. I belonged in the dark and Elizabeth was a beacon of light. Would we ever be suitable? Then again, why not?

  “May I have this dance?” I asked her. She instantly recognized me.

  “Helidon, I mean Mr. Reincarnator.”

  “Don’t call me that.” I smiled. She blushed. I took her fair hand as it was offered to me and led her to the floor. I pushed my arms out as was proper but she moved in close. My heart drummed so fast I thought it stopped. I could feel her shape on my chest. I could smell the perfume on her. I felt so much, like something had blasted open the floodgates to my own emotions. I never knew a woman could make me feel this way. Pressed gently against me as we waltzed, a dance I knew because mom had taught me, I placed my head against hers and held her hand in mine. I could feel the sensuous curve of her waist as we moved. I couldn’t look at her but I could see her in so many ways. She had such power over me. I didn’t want to take over, I wanted to let her have control over my senses. She did it better than I ever could anyway. The music swayed us and we looked into each other’s eyes. I was being silly when I felt glad that I was taller. We wanted to kiss but knew we shouldn’t. She worked for the Von Heisens and I was His Majesty’s courtier. To let our lips meet would be a bad idea. She might not want it anyway, just the simple flame of proximity and the chance at unspoken meaning, nothing more. I might get a slap if I moved in too soon, so I just held her. Our eyes danced with each other and our bodies too. Our souls were quiet and we enjoyed each other’s company. It was blissful.

  We were technically souls and didn’t have the comfort of a subconscious that locked away logic and memories of lifetimes that came before. That’s how we both knew a greater sense of what was happening. We both knew that if these were simpler times there might have been a possibility that we’d love each other. Truly love each other, not just for the promise of sex and the experience of being in love. My mom once told me ‘True love is when two people are willing to fight life’s problems together. Whether they tie the knot or not, if they can accept each other’s darkest sides and work together they are married, their souls are one. It’s a sacred bond, Helidon. Don’t choose a girl who doesn’t choose you back.’ Elizabeth and I knew we could have more but in Quandrant City, well, we had to let each other go simply because we couldn’t.

  She waved to me with the cutest tilt of her head and off she went to where the Von Heisens were. I headed back to where the other courtiers sat. Coffee, tea and other energy beverages were distributed free of charge. We paid enough today and were glad for this reprieve in expenses. The concert had concluded and we gave the Doe-Eyed Bastards a standing ovation and prolonged applause. They smiled and tilted their heads. Those antlers looked magnificent as the lights came on in all the tents in the Hefester quadrant.

  We were allowed a break to go home, stroll or laze around before the next event. I s
lapped at a mosquito, the only animal apart form roaches and rats to survive in this dimension. But these creatures had evolved to live in a 12-hour cycle so by the time the 24-hour mark hit and killed one generation the other were already adolescents. Of all the things that could survive, did it have to be the pestilential trio? I breathed a sigh of relief that there weren’t too many mozzies to contend with tonight.

  I was exhausted. There was simply too much to do, see, drink and eat. I wanted to grab a nice long sleep. But the day wasn’t done it and it was customary not to mention compulsory for every citizen to participate. If someone wasn’t feeling well, they’d have the closest soul-medic who also participated in Moo-Day take a look at them then and there and have the patient get back to it. Nobody ever really experienced a critical condition in Quadrant City, we were all already dead. I wanted to know why the day was so important that the King would want it celebrated in this fashion. He would probably say something in his speech.

  The only thing that imbued me with fresh energy was the next event that would begin in—I checked my government appointed watch—a quarter to two hours. These watches had to be free of spy or surveillance devices and were made entirely from ceramic with a crystal heart in each. For some weird reason clocks and watches didn’t work in the presence of the King, like time itself died. Ironically, even he was subject to time and demanded utmost punctuality from all his courtiers. I must be in the red end of that list after all the times I ran late. Well, those were problems for tomorrow.