Projects
Consciousness Fiction
8. "My Afterlife" by Carl Johann Schroeder
Introduction: I was looking forward to doing some writing on the weekend, and the morning of Saturday September 30 I just woke up laughing with the idea for this one. I actually wrote it in two parts, with no idea how it was going to end until October 1. The name of the woman mentioned actually has multiple personal meanings, which I don't mind divulging. Firstly, it is an anagram of sorts for real linda, where Linda is the name of my first girlfriend in High School. She is often the face of a recurring spirit friend I know only from my lucid dreams. It's just a fact that until I sharpen my identity perceptors, I frequently project images from my past. Linda is a nice name because it means beautiful in Spanish, as I realized when I went to Ecuador that summer as an exchange student. So real beauty is another consideration. Finally, the name is in some homage to a Boston area storyteller. Ms. Woad has inspired me with her neat little magical stories that she cleverly scrolls up in jewelry no less!
-- Carl, 2006
My Afterlife
By Carl Johann Schroeder, copyright 2006, all rights reserved.
On my day off, I fell off the ladder and hit my head. My last bodily thought was, thank God, I’ll never have to clean those gutters again.
I woke up on a charming village green. And I do mean green. The grass was really fabulously green, truly gorgeously amazing green. My head didn’t hurt, and neither did my lumbago. Praise the Lord, I thought. It’s about time.
But where was the welcoming committee? I surveyed the quaint houses around the New England coastal square, all dressed in delightful matching pastels. The sun sparkled on the sea down the hill. Marigolds in more happy hues than were ever seen on Earth radiated outward from a central monument erected to the memory of the Unknown Human, and a flag fluttered on a flagpole to announce my arrival to somewhere pleasant in a combination of inspirational symbols. I thought I could make out a peace sign, an om sign, a fish, a ying yang, a smiley face, and a mastercard globe. But I couldn’t be sure about the om sign.
There’s supposed to be a welcoming committee! I yelled telepathically. A bird fell out of a tree, then scurried off. Other than that, there was no sign of life.
I spied a post office at the end of the square, so I headed over to it.
I knew I was in heaven when I stepped inside. There was no line and all the free shipping materials were fully stocked. I couldn’t resist stopping to pick over the fold-up boxes. I noted there were additional sizes I’d never seen before, including some that might be perfect for my dvds and assorted media. Then I panicked for a moment to wonder if I would ever see them again. But of course I would, I assured myself. At least my favorites anyway, that’s the whole point of this place.
“Can I help you?”
I stepped up smartly with a big grin on my face to the matronly postal clerk.
“Hello,” I said cheerfully. “I’ve just arrived, and I must say I’m so happy to be here. I’ll be expecting all the amenities with none of the drawbacks. This new body feels great and the town is lovely, so we’re off to a good start. But I seem to have missed my welcoming committee.”
“Son, you’re not dead. You need to go back.”
I was horrified. “Oh no, there must be some mistake. I just fell off a fifteen foot ladder while working on the house. Judging by the thud I’d say I hit a rock. So I must be dead.”
She put on her glasses and leaned toward me to examine my lapel.
“Nope, just what I thought. Insufficient postage honey, I can’t send you on.”
I put my hands together and pleaded. “No, you don’t understand. It’s a jungle back there. It’s all corporatized and productized, I can’t take it anymore. Commuting and vacuuming, dinner microwaving and junk mail shredding. If I go back and still have to clean those gutters, I’ll… I’ll shoot myself!”
“No you won’t,” she said, “you’re not the type. Pay for someone to clean them for you, then get an extruded gutter replacement. My great great great grand children swear by them.”
Then she grabbed a big Return to Sender stamp off the shelf, inked it up good, and came around the counter at me. I ran as fast as I could on my new legs out the door.
I didn’t stop til I got to the other side of the square, where I saw a quiet little gas station. I darted inside to look for the attendant on duty. But I couldn’t find anyone, until finally a mechanic called out from under a car in the service area.
“Help you?”
I stopped to catch my breath, until I realized that I didn’t need to. This new body was great!
“Hi. I’m looking for uh, someone in charge? Like a tunnel of light or something?”
“Sure, drive to the edge of town, assess your beliefs and values, then hit the gas. Any direction, it doesn’t matter.”
I paused. “But I don’t have a car.”
The mechanic rolled out to look at me.
“Oh, a tourist. Okay well, the bus stop is at the end of the block. I don’t know your return schedule though, it depends on which group you’re from.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Oh no, I’m from here now, I'm not going back. I just fell off a rickety old fifteen foot ladder and hit my head on a rock and died. My welcoming committee simply hasn’t found me yet, so I'm a little disoriented.”
He wiped the grease off his hands and got up to squint and study me closer. “That so. Well, you’re not from my group, so I can’t help any further, sorry.”
Then he got back under the car to continue his work. I was about to ask him something when he started banging metal on metal, so I gave up and walked out.
Ah, I took a deep breath in the sun. The air was sweet with flower blossoms. The fingers of a gentle breeze lifted my hair. The streets were beginning to become populated with smartly dressed happy looking people, and the laughter of children drifted from the park. Smells of fantastic treats wafted to me from a nearby bakery. Further I could see a banner over the main street announcing a parade this coming Saturday. Maybe for me, I thought. Yes, this was a beautiful town, a heavenly place, and there was no way that I was going back to the daily grind on Earth. I was determined to stay dead even if it killed me.
So I remembered what the mechanic said and started walking to the edge of town.
It took a while, passing rows of delightful gingerbread Victorian houses, neatly trimmed hedges, a playground, a beach, and birds singing in trees. But I finally reached the edge of town, where the street faded into white misty clouds and I could not see beyond.
I felt no danger. The mist was warm and strangely inviting. So I sat on the curb and considered. What did the mechanic say? Assess my values and beliefs, then run into the fog as fast as I can. I thought over my life and what it meant, slipping into a melancholy reverie. I liked food, money, friends and family (when they’re nice to me of course), good weather, gardens and pets, hobbies, and quaint little New England towns like the one behind me. I didn’t like bills, deadlines, dating, traffic, mediocre jobs, economic uncertainty, the flu, and wars. I believed that people were deep down good and God loves everyone. Ok, I felt ready and jumped in.
The mists cleared and I found myself back in the park in the center of town, only this time I was facing a particular house off to one side. There was a man on the porch of this house, sitting and looking at me. That must be the man, I thought, so I walked directly toward him.
“Hey, you look familiar,” I said.
“And you look lost,” he said. “You have to go back, you know.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” I stepped up and caressed the neatly painted railing. “Nice house. Always wanted a porch like this.”
“Sure you do. I’ve got more things you’d like too. Here, step inside.”
He handed me an iced tea and gave a tour of the most charming idyllic house I’d ever seen. It might not be for everyone, but I swear it had all the little details I’d ever dreamed of for myself. The stained glass window in the foyer, the stainless steel double-wide refrigerator in the kitchen, the sunken TV room with fireplace, the view onto a backyard complete with tire swing on a tall stately elm. I sipped on my iced tea and imagined what my house here in heaven would look like. At least as nice as this I hope. Maybe I could buy his…
“Sorry, not for sale,” he said. “You have to go back.”
“Why?” I blurted out, unable to stand it anymore.
“Because of these,” he said, pointing to a big stack of bills.
“You have bills in heaven?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes, and I’m always late to pay them and I never know why.”
“Heh heh,” I laughed nervously. “I know just what you mean.”
“No you don’t,” he said, poking me with a finger and looking both sad and stern. “You get to procrastinate. I don’t have a choice. Just like I don’t have a choice that every Tuesday I’ll get a flat tire while stuck in traffic on my way to work, and every Friday I’ll catch the flu and have to work through it until I go home to bed, where I’ll stay until I feel fine in time for Monday morning.”
“What are you talking about?” I insisted. “This is heaven. If you don’t like it, don’t go to work. You’re not at work now, are you?”
“It’s a holiday here, same as you were having back on Earth,” he replied. “In fact, I have to go clean my gutters in just a few minutes.”
“What?!” I cried. “I repeat, this is heaven. Why don’t you get one of those extruded gutter replacement things that the lady at the post office was talking about.”
“Oh, you mean Marion? Her daughter Raelinda works for them. Ahh,” he sighed, “Raelinda. I’d ask her out if I could. I know she’s waiting for me. At least I get to wave to her now and then.”
I put down my drink and tried to take stock of the situation. “What’s going on here? Are you saying that you live in heaven but you can’t participate in it? That sounds like hell.”
“Yeah,” he said sadly. “Tomorrow they’re turning off the electric. I’ll miss my favorite TV show. This week I’ll have to skip lunch to go downtown and pay the bill in person. They’ll turn it back on until the next time. If only I could figure out why I don’t pay my bills sooner. But everything happens so fast here.”
I sat down on the perfectly comfortable couch and gave it a thought. “You’re probably just resentful like me. Passive aggressive they call it. You feel some satisfaction to get back at the system, but you’re only hurting yourself.”
He looked so excited at that. “Really? Oh my gosh, I love it when you analyze. Please continue.”
“Well,” I said, folding my arms and stretching my legs. “If you’re like me, you’re in a holding pattern. It’s either that or full steam ahead, and the unknown is just too scary. ‘Someday when’ becomes preferable to the fear of here and now. Like this Raelinda you’re talking about. If I knew where to meet the right woman, I’d be petrified to make the next move. I’ve gotten so used to just going on bad dates that I know won’t work out. At least then I keep the hope of someday when alive, rather than blowing it like I know I might.”
He drew up a chair beside me and looked ecstatic. “Fascinating! I never could lay it all out like that. You think there’s hope for me yet?”
I smiled. “Sure there’s hope. You got a nice house, didn’t you? Man, I’d kill for a house like this. That’s gotta bring you some happiness.”
“Oh,” he said, looking around. “Sometimes I forget it’s even there. The welcoming committee gave it to me when I arrived. It is my dream house actually.”
“Me too, I’ve always wanted a house like this!” Then I remembered. “Wait a minute. Speaking of welcoming committees, where’s mine? They seem to be late.”
He suddenly looked around in distraction. “Yeah, good luck with that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to clean those gutters before my second favorite TV show comes on. At least I get to watch that.”
I pondered. “Cleaning gutters. That’s how I died. Say, you don’t have a rickety old ladder that you should have replaced years ago, do you?”
He perked up at that. “Yes?”
“We have a lot in common, don’t we?” I observed.
“Yes??” He studied me with excitement now.
I smiled. “Ok, let’s make a deal. I’ll get you out of here, and you get me in.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” I reasoned. “There must be a better place for you ahead, this can’t be your ultimate heaven.”
“I agree!” he said, looking thrilled.
“So,” I continued, “this old ladder of yours is just more passive aggression. Suicidality, in fact. Sooner or later you’re going to kill yourself on it. All I ask is that you do it today. Carpe diem, my friend! You fall while cleaning the gutters, hit your head on a rock. You die, wake up in a better place, and I get to move into your house. Deal?”
He thought it over. “Deal,” he said, and we shook hands.
So together we went down to the basement to fetch the ladder. I helped him set it up, and made sure it was at an awkward angle. I even brought over a few extra rocks and placed them neatly around, just to make sure he’d hit his head when he fell.
“Thanks,” he said, going up the ladder. “You’re a real pal.”
“Glad to help,” I said, mentally moving into his place already. I could get some of those free boxes I saw at the post office. Maybe I’ll ask Marion for Raelinda’s number while I’m there. This is like winning the lottery or inheriting a fortune! Upward mobility is such a wonderful thing, I thought.
“Sure is,” he said, poking leaves with a stick along the edge of the roof. “Can’t wait to see what’s ahead for me. Too bad what’s in store for you though.”
I looked up at him. “Uh, what do you mean?”
“Well I’m you of course. You must have realized that by now. Maybe your pop psychology will help you, but I doubt it. Earth is the place to work that stuff out, not here.”
I started to panic. “What are you saying?”
He looked at me while stretching precariously off to one side. “Heaven’s only heaven if you can handle it. Everything’s automatic here, you get what you need and the rest is up to you. That’s why we sent you to Earth, to slow things down, so you’d have a chance to observe our bad habits and fix them. You’ll see what I mean when you move in, but by then it’ll be too late to change. At least until someone else from our group takes your place. Ahh, the joys of upward mobility!”
“What have I done…” I whispered in horror.
His stick hit a mass of rotted leaves where the drain pipe ran down to the ground. “Darn it,” he said, leaning to poke further and further.
“No, wait!” I said, but it was too late. The ladder was already tipping, and for a crazy moment he just hung there, looking weirdly blissed out in the death wish that I knew all too well. Then he was falling, straight for the rocks.
I dove headlong to catch his fall. “Nooooo!” I cried in slow motion, just like on the bad TV shows. By the time he hit the ground, he was landing right on top of me.
“Ugh!!”
My head throbbed and I sat up. Nothing was broken, but my heart was pounding like crazy.
I looked around, the sun was warm. There was my ladder, my gutters, my leaves, and the other guy was nowhere to be seen. Thank you God, I was back at my house!
I got up shakily. My body ached and I limped as I gave the old ladder a wide berth. Like Marion said, I could hire someone and get the gutters replaced. So I went inside and found the phonebook. My eyes fixed on the first listing and my fingers started dialing the number. I don’t know why I was calling them though. I could see they were in Granitehead, that pricey little seaside town I always meant to visit, so they wouldn’t be the cheapest. They’d probably even charge extra for the distance. But never mind waiting to be perfect, I thought. It’s time to get my life moving.
“Hello, ABC Gutter Professionals.”
On the other end was the sweetest voice I’d ever heard. I don’t know what came over me, I just knew it was her.
“Raelinda?”
“Yes, this is Raelinda speaking. Can I help you?”
Five minutes later, I had two dates: one for me and one for the gutters.
