Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Steven H. Propp

  Abraham seemed thoughtful, and said, “I wonder if we’re giving this thing a fair test. Is there anything ‘special’ we’re supposed to do in order to ‘conjure up’ the spirits?”

  Jobran added, “You mean, like hold a séance, or something?”

  Ted sounded disgusted, “The hell with all that shit; just having a trio of doubters in the house should be enough to get any self-respecting ghost fired up enough to give us a good scare.” Ted stood up suddenly, cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, and shouted, “You hear me, ghosts? This is Ted Thornock, Professor of Philosophy and full-time skeptic, and I think you’re nothing but a pile of BULLSHIT! You’re weak, stupid, and ugly, and I can stand here and insult you all night long, but you won’t do anything about it, because you don’t exist! So just in case you don’t get the picture, I say fuck you!! Because even if you do exist, you’re nothing but a bunch of pansies!” Ted then turned around, and “mooned” the ceiling, causing Abraham and Jobran to fall over laughing.

  When he had regained control of himself, Abraham said, “Too bad we didn’t get that on tape,” still laughing.

  “Yeah, too bad,” said Jobran, now turning serious. “But do you really think that spending one night in the house is a sufficient test of whether or not the house is haunted? Didn’t the two families you mentioned that tried to live here stay for more than one night?”

  Ted looked annoyed, then said, “Who cares? You’ve got to understand, the name of the game here is just to make moves, then countermoves, like in chess. That ‘New Age’ guy made the unsupported claim that this house was haunted; as President of the local Skeptics’ Society, I immediately volunteered to stay in the house overnight. When I report to the local media tomorrow that I, as well as my two companions—including a Jewish Rabbi, and obvious ‘man of the spirit’— failed to see any evidence whatsoever for the supernatural, it will have the same effect as raising someone in poker: the New Age guy will either have to raise the stakes, or fold.” With an air of smug self-satisfaction, he added, “Usually, they fold.”

  Jobran shook his head, then said, “Why is it that I have impression that you aren’t really a ‘disinterested seeker after truth,’ as much as you are just looking to confirm your existing prejudices?”

  “Hell, I admit it,” Ted said, honestly. “I’m more dogmatic than any fundamentalist you’ll ever find.” He took another long swallow from his beer, then added, “The main difference between them and me, however, is that I’m right about what I’m dogmatic about, whereas they are wrong.”

  Abraham said, “So you don’t believe in any form of personal immortality, including traditional notions such as Heaven or Hell?”

  Ted smiled, and thumped his palm on the floor, saying, “For me, Heaven and Hell are right here on Earth. All of those TV evangelists are phonies, who are out for the money, plain and simple.”

  Abraham countered, “You don’t think that there might even be a few of them that are, shall we say, sincerely deluded?”

  “Not a one,” said Ted, confidently. “The whole notion of religion and life after death is, as Freud said, an ‘illusion.’”

  Jobran burst in, excitedly, “But the notion of personal immortality is one of the oldest and most hallowed ideas in the history of mankind! What is your basis for rejecting it?”

  Ted scratched his beard, appearing to think, then began speaking reasonably, and with conviction, “Everything science does makes the notion of an immortal ‘soul’ more and more improbable. All of the things people used to think of as indicating that they were coming from our ‘soul’ have been shown irrefutably to be simply part of the normal human physiology. For example, thinkers and writers from earlier centuries thought that our moral values, and our aesthetic sense, were ‘proofs’ of our immortal souls; the famous ‘Bridgewater Treatises’ of the 19th century were examples of this kind of argument. But since then, cultural anthropology and social psychology have shown that such feelings are simply culturally conditioned, and are just an artifact or byproduct of our culture and our times. People believe in life after death because they fear death—and they mostly fear it because they have been conditioned by religion to think that they going to do down to a fiery Hell when they die. But death is nothing more than going to sleep, without waking up; there’s nothing to be afraid of about it. Once you are no longer afraid of dying, you don’t have any need to believe in immortality. We need to just face up to the fact that once we’re dead, we’re dead. We come into existence when some guy shoots a load of sperm inside a woman and it fertilizes an egg—there’s no ‘soul’ implanted anywhere in the process. When we die, our brain starts to rot, and along with it goes our memory, our thoughts, and our personality, because nothing can preserve an individual life beyond the grave.”

  Jobran asked, “So to a person like you, what is the purpose or meaning of life?”

  “The ‘purpose’ of our existence is to make things as pleasant as possible for ourselves,” Ted replied immediately.

  Abraham interjected, “That’s all? No ‘higher’ purpose to things, no ‘end of evolution’ intent?”

  “Not a thing; evolution is nothing more than certain organisms surviving at the expense of other organisms. There is no ‘higher purpose’ or ‘meaning’ to survival—organisms do it because it’s instinctual. Survival is obviously ‘hard-wired’ into us, because if it wasn’t, humans would never have survived as long as they have.”

  Jobran looked at Ted dubiously, and said, “So is this philosophy original with you?”

  Ted shook his head, vigorously, and replied, “The ‘Bible’for me is Nobel Laureate’s Jacques Monod’s book, Chance and Necessity—wherein he says that the interaction of absolutely deterministic causality with the randomness at the subatomic level is what results in our world.” He finished his beer, and immediately opens another. “I really think that fundamentally, everything is governed by pure chance. Randomness is what determines the universe, and randomness is what determines the path of evolution. Yet at the same time, physical necessity and cause and effect determine everything. It’s this fantastic interaction between chance and necessity, as Monod says, that underlies everything.” Standing up, he said, “And now, I feel a burning need to interact with nature; or in other words, I gotta go pee…!” and he headed to the front door. Standing on the front porch, he urinated into the weeds, shouting, “So do you feel that, restless spirits? I’m pissing on you!” Zipping himself up, he returned inside, locking the door behind him. “Almost forgot; you’re supposed to lock yourself in, just to build up the suspense.”

  Jobran and Abraham looked at each other, shaking their heads. Returning to the group, Ted knelt down in front of one of the cases, and handed them each a sandwich.

  Abraham suddenly said, “But if what you—or Monod—say is true, that everything happens as a result of necessity, then my very opposition to your doctrines is itself determined.”

  Ted fired back immediately, “Absolutely—as is my own opposition to what you are saying.”

  Jobran looked puzzled, and said, “But then I don’t understand what your purpose behind the Skeptics’ Society is; aren’t you trying to persuade people to change some of their irrational beliefs? If their beliefs are simply determined by a series of ‘necessary causes,’ doesn’t this mean that these people whose beliefs you are trying so hard to disprove are not really at ‘fault’?”

  Ted looked defensive, then said, “Oh, absolutely; ‘fault’ doesn’t enter into the picture at all.”

  “Yet you still try and change their ideas? Even though they themselves have no power to change them?” Jobran persisted.

  With conviction, Ted replied, “Sure, because I may be the ‘necessary cause’ that leads them back to rationality!”

  Abraham shook his head slowly, and said, “You aren’t persuading me, I’m afraid.”

  “
Then it’s no skin off my nose,” Ted said, taking another long drink of beer, and belching to end the discussion.

  Jobran sat silently for a few minutes, thinking intently, before he spoke up in a voice trembling with emotion, “I may not be able to refute your arguments in a purely logical sense—but for me, the issue isn’t going to be settled purely as a matter of logic.”

  Confidently, Ted smirked and said, “Ah, but that’s where you are wrong, my bookworm friend; Logic is all there is.”

  Agitated, Jobran sat up straight and said, “Logic is not all there is—life is all there is! And even you must admit that that vast majority of people throughout history have believed that there is the possibility of life after death.”

  Smirking, Ted said, “They’re deluded; it’s all a myth.”

  Passionately, Jobran said quietly, but with increasing intensity, “You like ‘logical’ arguments? Let me give you a very ‘logical’ deduction from your argument: If your beliefs are correct, then there is no possibility that I will ever be reunited with Sophia again—and that possibility is absolutely unacceptable to me.” Both Ted and Abraham were silenced by the vehemence of Jobran’s outburst. “Without the hope of being with Sophia again,” Jobran said, quietly, “I would have nothing to live for.”

  At this, Ted looked contrite, and crawled on his hands and knees over to Jobran, and put his arm on his shoulder, tenderly. When he spoke, he spoke quietly, with genuine feeling. “Look, partner; I’m sorry. I shoot my mouth off too much when I’ve been drinking—which is always. I know about what happened to your wife, and it was a god-damned shame. Things happening like that are how I know that religion is a bunch of crap; no ‘good’ God who was in charge of things would ever let shit like that happen.” Tears came to Jobran’s eyes, but he didn’t reply. Ted then sat back on his haunches, and said, “But hell, son, you’ve got lots to live for. You’re a young man; Christ, I wish that I was that young again, with my whole life ahead of me. You’re shutting yourself off too much, with those god-damned books of yours. Don’t you want to have a fantastic meal at a great restaurant again? Don’t you want to get good and rip-roaring drunk again? Don’t you want to see who wins the Super Bowl, or the NBA playoffs? Don’t you want to take a vacation cruise in Bermuda? Don’t you want to have some beautiful woman give you a full-body massage, complete with scented oil? And most importantly, don’t you ever want to have sex again? Maybe even with two women at once?”

  Jobran looked at Ted sadly, then slowly replied, “To answer your question as directly as possible: No—I quite frankly don’t want to do any of the things you mentioned.” He sighed, then said, “Those things were all of interest to me in the past, but that all seems like more than a lifetime ago. Now, they all seem to me to be nothing more than the utmost folly.” Jobran stood, and began pacing around as he spoke. “There was only one woman I wanted sexually, and she’s gone, now.” He paused a moment, controlling his emotions, then said, “Spectator sports are the most superficial form of escapism there is, in the modern world. And from what I can see, getting drunk is nothing more than turning off your mind because you can’t stand the pain of living.”

  Ted gave a hearty laugh, and held up his beer can in a “toasting” gesture. “I can stand the pain of living all right, son. But getting drunk just makes me enjoy life more.”

  Jobran zeroed in, saying, “For someone who claims to be completely rational, it’s surprising how irrational you can be in this area. Tell me, does being drunk enhance your rational faculties at all? Of course not. Then how does your desire to get drunk differ from the desire of Pentecostal Christians to speak in tongues, or roll on the floor making animal noises while they are in church, since that is something that you would ridicule? Don’t tell me, ‘It’s because religion is irrational,’ because you can’t claim that getting drunk is rational. And it can’t be of value from an ‘evolutionary’ standpoint, because getting drunk all the time is killing you, not enhancing your ‘survival value.’”

  Ted was taken aback by the virulence of Jobran’s attack, and thought for a while before responding, “Well, I’ve got to admit that you’ve got me there, pard. I guess the bottom line is, I get drunk because I just like the feeling of being drunk.” He thought for a moment, then said softly, “And I guess I like to get drunk because I’m an alcoholic—but a functioning one. I’ve never missed a day of work due to booze, I don’t have any debts to speak of except for my mortgage; I’ve got no kids that I’m not supporting, and my alimony checks are always paid on time.”

  Jobran said sharply, “Do your beliefs really give you something to live for? Given the propensity you have to drink, for example, one would suspect that you don’t find life all that congenial. The only time you seem to come ‘alive’ is when you’re finding fault with someone else’s beliefs.”

  Ted started to stand up, when suddenly there was a loud Crash! from the next room.

  “What the fuck was that?!?” said Ted.

  “It sounded like it came from the kitchen area,” said Abraham, in a strangled voice.

  Jobran grabbed a flashlight, and headed off in the direction of the noise. Abraham tried to stop him, but Jobran was gone too quickly.

  Ted and Abraham looked at each other frantically, then they grabbed the lantern and flashlights, and headed off after Jobran.

  Jobran’s mind was racing, “If ghosts or poltergeists really exist, then I will know that there is life after death, and with it the possibility of my being reunited with Sophia. But on the other hand, if Ted is right and there is no life after death, what difference does it make if I get killed? It has no value to me, under those conditions…” He reached the empty kitchen, shining the flashlight slowly over the room. He finally saw a glass case probably used as a storage or display cabinet, which had shards of glass all over the floor in front of it, and its door ajar. That might account for the crash, he thought, But what could have caused it to break?

  Abraham and Ted arrived, and shined their own lights in the area illumined by Jobran’s.

  “But what caused it to shatter like that?” Abraham asked. Then he snapped his fingers, and said, “They say that when poltergeists appear, there are usually ‘physical’ manifestations of phenomena…”

  “There are no fucking poltergeists in this house!” said Ted, almost shouting. “The old door just fell off its hinges, because of the increased vibrations and heat in the house because of us.” Illuminating his face with the flashlight, he said fervently, “This house has been silent and cold here for more than a decade. Now, suddenly there are people walking around on these creaky floorboards, shouting at each other, and the unaccustomed stress broke this seventy-year old case; that’s all.”

  Abraham and Jobran looked unconvinced. Still, they followed Ted back to the living room.

  When they had almost reached the dining room, Abraham hissed, “Wait! Do you hear that?” They all strained their ears. “It sounds like some kind of rumbling, along the floor.”

  “You can even feel the vibrations from the floorboards,” said Jobran. “It must be big, whatever it is.”

  With a snarl, Ted thrust the lantern forward and plunged into the room, shouting, “I tell you, there’s nothing fucking here except…!” and he stopped abruptly, causing the other two to bump into him.

  Their sandwiches were gone, and their open beer cans had been spilled over. “It can’t be…” Abraham whispered, short of breath, as Ted searched around

  frantically for evidence of the missing sandwiches.

  “Ghosts who eat food?” Jobran wondered.

  Suddenly, Ted halted dead in his tracks. “Oh, fuck…” he said, as he pointed toward a corner. Abraham and Jobran followed the direction of his finger, and saw…

  Rats.

  Dozens and dozens, maybe hundreds of them. Cowering away from the light against the wall, but imperceptibly moving for
ward…?

  “Goddamn, I never seen such big motherfuckin’ rats!” said Ted, in a whisper.

  “Some of them are as big as cats, or small dogs…!” exclaimed Jobran, in fear tinged with wonder.

  “Now, don’t panic; they can smell fear,” Ted said, quietly, trying to keep his voice calm. “If they get scared, or feel like they’re cornered, they may attack us. They’re probably half-crazed from starvation; we just need to make our way over quietly to the door…” and they began walking on tiptoe toward the door. But as the light began moving away, they could see the rats begin to move closer to them, keeping at the same distance.

  Ted reached the door first, and tried to turn the knob (which still had the key in the deadbolt). He tried again, then rattled it. “Fuck! Fuckin’ Son of a Bitch! The bastard is stuck!”

  They were now backed against the door, and the rats were unmistakably coming closer, with the largest black rat in the lead, its yellow teeth gleaming in the lantern light.

  Can we make it past them to the window? Jobran wondered, doubting it. It the crazed rats charged them, they wouldn’t make it two feet before they had rats swarming over them, biting them, tearing their flesh with their sharp, ravenous teeth…

  Suddenly, he heard a primeval yell from Abraham, and there was a loud explosion, followed immediately by several shrieks of pain, and the sound of rats’ panicked feet rushing away across the slippery wooden floor.

  “What the hell?” breathed Ted, shining the light at Abraham, who stood there holding a smoking revolver in his hand. “Fuckin’ all right, Abe!” he said, clapping him on the shoulder vigorously. “That’s the one thing I didn’t think to bring!”

  “Well, not that I thought it would do any good in the event of real ghosts,” Abraham said, “But I thought it might be prudent to borrow a revolver from a member of my congregation who happens to be a private security officer.”