The Afterworld Trilogy

Chapter 1

The weekend had been gorgeous, followed by a bleak and rainy Monday morning: this morning. The air was cool, damp, and lightly fogged, creating alternate blue and yellow tints to a shadowy white landscape in the expansive three acre yard behind its yellow and white house. A huge, overgrown oak with thousands of rickety and never-green branches that grew close to the house had given up one of its heavier boughs to the night wind, which the wind had promptly deposited against what had previously been a beautiful creme and blue awning.

The dimly lit AM found the occasional live-in girlfriend of the youthful, male homeowner had used up the last of the milk before dashing off to work, forcing him to eat his frosted corn flakes dry. He sat unenthusiastically at his kitchen table running his left forefinger across his chin's light stubble, sprinkling more sugar on his cereal with his right, knowing that would force his mouth to make enough juice to chew the flakes properly, so it wouldn’t be like eating sawdust. Detesting black coffee, the young man chose instead to drink a bottle of Coke while he chewed. He was a devotee of high energy breakfasts, particularly on Mondays, when he felt his system needed the jolt.

Gary Townsend was feeling mildly depressed. He was not altogether thrilled with his current female companionship, but hadn't yet drummed up the initiative to break it off. That would mean prowling the night circuit again, which he deemed far worse than eating milkless corn flakes. He hated being by himself, yet here he sat, alone. No girl around to cheer him up. On the other hand, the one he had did a poor job of it when she was present. It took her an hour to fix her face and hair, and then he was not allowed to mess it up: the trouble with models, pretty, especially when they weren’t moving, but generally useless. There was no visibility outside. No warmth. No sun. No awning. No milk. Mondays were often the pits, and this Monday did not break the overall tradition. Mondays seemed to show a great deal more consistency in their character than any other particular day, Townsend analyzed, as he munched on his mostly dry flakes.

Once more the young man would be late for work: which was fine, since his job as a Business Systems Analyst was becoming monotonous, despite the fact that he enjoyed the field in which he had a superb track record; it seemed to balance. Once more his boss would neither understand nor sympathize with his brilliant young employee's tardiness, electing to bore him with still another of his canned speeches on early birds, success, and an ambitious youth. The boss loved Mondays. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Townsend had an excellent reputation; he stood on it, usually too much these days.

All things considered, this Monday, in the usually upbeat Month of May, was a rotten day to die. But that was exactly what he did. He hadn't meant to, he was positive he never wanted to, but it happened anyway. He was thirty-five. There should have been a whole life yet to live. With all his plans, all his dreams for self-fulfillment, all the untasted riches and indulgences of material and person before him, he simply passed away.

Mondays.

It was a heart attack of all things. Townsend knew he should have stopped his rotten diet of fatty foods and sugary substances punctuated with caffeine-filled drinks, but he thought he had plenty of time to go on the wagon. His father died of heart disease at the ripe age of forty-nine, and he believed he would easily beat that record. Certainly the couple of light workouts a month at the gym which he managed to fit in would keep him healthy. It was a hell of a way to be proven wrong. So to speak.

Gary Townsend had never been very religious, in the strictest sense, although raised in the Judeo-Christian tradition; he possessed his own firm morality which, to his credit, he compromised for nothing and no one. He always thought: that was all a person had. Everyone else chased after religions to try to find their morality. He didn’t have to do that; his was locked firmly in his brain.

Townsend always thought organized religion took a lot of faith, and not so much intelligence. In fact, it helped immensely if you didn’t have all that intelligent, scientific, factual matter floating around in your head to complicate your religion. He could never muster enough faith to be a good follower, or, actually, even a poor follower; blindly contributing your trust, and your money, to a cause filled with mysteries and rampant, unsubstantiated illogic was something he simply couldn’t subscribe to. The young analyst hated mysteries, and had, in fact, spent most of his life resolving them.

Gary Townsend had been told that faith was a gift. By the time he was seven, he knew it was one that he’d never gotten. Then again, in an environment of a thousand conflicting religions, each claiming the sole and absolute truth, how could anybody be expected to have faith in any one of them? The few clergymen he’d spoken to suggested he pick one with which felt most comfortable and follow it. Somehow, that didn’t make any sense to him.

Townsend had investigated atheists and agnostics, but he wasn’t comfortable with their philosophy either; there wasn’t enough logic to it. The universe was here, something put it there, reasonably one could call that God. As to its, or His, exact character, well, no one could truly know what it was.

What seemed apparent to the analyst was that religion was a business that some people with a melodic gift of gab could make a good living with. Others, not so creative or glib, followed them. Many of these clerics, ministers, and preachers were truly corrupt; but, he’d considered, there had to be some good people strewn in with them, men and women who just wanted a simpler life of following someone else’s rules without too much thinking or analyzing. That wasn’t him. There were those, he knew, who used religion to appease their guilty consciences: an easy way to be forgiven for one’s sins. Then again, Townsend considered, there were some serious sins that he didn’t believe one could simply confess away, some even that one couldn’t be forgiven for, not in this lifetime.

Although he was not very religious, Townsend knew that whatever sins he had were quite minor: perhaps not being more of a true believer, thinking that religion itself was more of a thoughtless, pointless, ritualistic tedium.

That was why he was certain he would end up in hell.

* * * * * * * *

Mr. Townsend ... Mr. Townsend! You can arise now! A deep, authoritative voice drifted into the consciousness of the reposed body.

"I ... I ... W-what?" Gary Townsend's eye's flickered as he tried to move.

I say, you can arise now, the lightly accented voice responded.

"Who the hell are you? What the hell happened?"

Appropriate expressions, Mr. Townsend, after a fashion. All your questions shall be answered in due course. Come. With me.

Hey, you know, buddy, I really don't feel like going anywhere. In fact I feel rotten. This is the weirdest feeling I've ever had. Rotten Mondays! Maybe some club soda.

Townsend slowly arose from his slumped position and rubbed his eyes. Who are you anyway? And what are you doing in my livingroom?

You may call me Trainer.

Trainer? What are you selling, Mr. Trainer? With clearing vision, the young man addressed a large-boned, robust man of over six feet in height, appearing to be about fifty years old, dressed in an all-white suit. He was fair complected, with peachy, unblemished skin and perfectly trimmed auburn beard to match his well-groomed short hair. The man's barrel chest sat on a thick but solid and flat stomach, which was nearly hidden by his excellently tailored apparel. A burgundy colored cane capped with gold at both ends hung from his right elbow, completing the elegant picture.

Why, nothing at all, Mr. Townsend. This will all come together shortly. Why don't you get that club soda, Trainer's voice commanded in a consoling, fatherly fashion. His vibrant green eyes sparkled, while pearlescent white teeth gleamed in apparent friendship.

Townsend's hazel eyes were still clouded with confusion. His youthful countenance held a puzzled expression.

How exactly did you get in here? I know the doors are locked. And how do you know me, by the way? I have a good memory for faces, and I surely would have remembered yours if I'd seen it.

Ah-h, but I've seen yours, he grinned pleasantly.

Well, look, it doesn't matter to me, Mr. Trainer ...

Trainer! he interrupted, "Just Trainer, if you please. It is not a family name, as you know it."

Okay, okay. All this doesn't matter, because I'm not feeling normal right now. I think I'm some kind of sick.

No, no, Mr. Townsend. You're not sick! Not at all. The big man's expression became sympathetic, his sparkling eyes those of a puppy dog who was fond of his master.

No?

No! Of course not.

How would you know?

Because! Mr. Townsend. You are dead!

W-what?

"Deceased, sir. Your soul has passed over into a new lifetime, the final reality."

Townsend stared at him for a long moment before he uttered anything else. I know I should be shocked or something, but I'm not. Somehow ...

Somehow you feel it's right. Yes. I have the ring of truth about me in this situation.

"Yeah! Who are you, anyway? A guardian Angel? Something like that?"

Mm-m-m, not precisely. Guardian Angels are a very quaint idea. It was thought about some several million years ago, but eventually we all realized it would be a totally unworkable idea. They would all keep bumping into each other, you know. Can you imagine what New York and Hong Kong would look like with all those beings together in one place?

Well, I, I thought you could, uh, you know, put a thousand of them on the head of a pin. Or something like that.

"Children's stories. Angels would still take up space in eternity. Just because you people couldn’t see them wouldn’t mean they're not there. Different planes of reality. In any case, the idea was abandoned once we realized that mankind would number in the billions. Many more angels would need to be created. Eternal congestion was not the idea. The Plan was only for a few billion humans to be in this entire universe, tops."

No kidding.

No, no. That was it. We totally underestimated sex drive. In your case, it was instituted merely as a preservative device for the race, once it was created. As were the different genders. Rather incredible when you think about it.

Yes, I suppose it is. So! You have a British accent! Are you from England?

I am from many places, however none of them are part of your Earth. Or even your universe. I have visited your planet on occasion. I am plainly the way I am, in fact created that way. Part of that is for your benefit, part of it is for mine, and the rest is simply the way it is.

Right. Well, if I'm dead, how is it I'm talking to you? And thinking, and breathing?

I should say for convenience, Trainer said matter-of-factly, "more than anything else. This is your afterlife. You are leaving your old world of knowledge and experience and making a transition to a new reality, an Afterworld, so to speak. It certainly wouldn't do for you to be here and not be able to talk or think, now, would it?"

Uh-h, no. That’s an interesting argument. I don’t think your churches got that one.

"Mm-m. There is a great deal they have not gotten. And they are not my churches. Or even anyone’s, but your own."

Uh-huh. Okay. Can I, uh, get that club soda? His knees were feeling exceptionally weak in an otherwise numb body.

Certainly, certainly. Please do. Trainer moved aside to let him pass.

Thanks. The younger man struggled up and began to amble slowly toward the kitchen. What about my girlfriend? All the other things I have to do? Will that all be left behind?

None of that is your concern any longer, Mr. Townsend. You've had all the impact on that existence you ever shall. That life will go on, as your people say.

The young analyst nodded thoughtfully, with what he believed was a remarkable lack of anxiety under the circumstances. Will she, uh, miss me?

Ah, not too much, I'm afraid. She was also dating your friend at work, Bill Rider.

"Rider? RIDER!" His eyes bulged open wide. "No! That slimy S.O.B.? How dare he do that!"

Oh, never mind that, Mr. Townsend. It's of no consequence any longer. You didn't care that much for her yourself.

"Well, it's the principle of the thing."

The principle in question being what?

"Don't mess around with someone else's girl! Jeez, she was living with me."

Him, too. On alternate days. Difficult to assess which one she was betraying.

That dirty little ...

Ah-ah! No cause for that any longer. Just take what good you can from the situation.

"What good! She was cheating on me. I was living a lie."

Not truly so. She was good for you, in the beginning especially. You both cared for each other, and made each other happy more than not. Life is not perfect. Don't be greedy.

"Greedy? That's your advice? ‘Don't be greedy’? Doesn't faithfulness mean anything in this lifetime? He paused, thinking to himself for a moment. Oh man, this does not sound very good at all. Damn! What did I expect?" He mumbled nearly inaudibly.

The older man smiled wistfully. Faithfulness, like many other principles, exists if you wish it to. You will be knowledgeable in all of this in time; and you do have quite a lot of that from now on. Eternity is primarily represented by an infinite amount of choices and truths. Right and wrong are concepts largely from your prior life. They don't precisely apply here. Certainly not in the same way.

"No right and wrong? How can that be? If you can choose, you can choose wrong."

"No. Things simply are. That's the way we were created. Your kind is very creative. I have remarked on this on many an occasion when I was speaking with my superiors. There are many concepts which you have invented in order to make yourselves feel better. We rather enjoyed watching you, wondering what you'd come up with next."

How nice we could be so entertaining for you all.

Quite.

Does God get His jollies the same way?

I couldn't really say. My superiors assure me He has a vast sense of humor, but it would be rather lost on such as we.

"You, you mean, you don't know? You don't know? Haven't you ever asked Him?"

Oh, we can't speak with Him. Not directly, not the way you mean.

What! You mean after all this pain and suffering, I still can't get to talk with the guy who made it all happen?

"I'm afraid not. He doesn’t actually talk."

No? What about all those holy people who say they talk to Him!

Mm-m. They talk only to themselves. A minor delusion.

Man! But, that's not fair! Not to get to talk with Him.

"Oh, not true at all! Since it is God who invents fairness, it must be eminently fair. You're simply unhappy about it. Besides, the only fairness there is, is in God’s mind, not anyone else’s."

Sounds like double talk to me. He sighed and looked absently around his surrounding, now seeming to be shimmering and unreal. Can I, uh, get you something? I mean, you do drink and eat? No, I don't suppose you do, do you? I mean, why would you.

Oh yes! We absolutely do! One of the delicacies existence provides. I think I will at that. The last century has been particularly tiring. I haven't had this much activity since the crusades. Oh, I'll have some sparkling water with a piece of one of your limes.

Piece of lime. Sure, sure. He shook his head as he shuffled slowly into the kitchen. The guy's crazy, he mumbled to himself. Figures I’d get the crazy angel. How the hell did he know I have limes? he continued under his breath. "I didn't know I had limes."

In a couple of minutes he was out with two tall glasses. He took a long swallow before giving away the second drink.

Thank you, the elder said.

Townsend stared the larger man straight in the eyes. Then I have nothing to do, nothing to accomplish. I have nowhere to go. He was pensive another moment, as he sipped his drink. So, what do I do now?

Live out your destiny, my good man. Endeavor to be happy. He spoke after taking a long drink from his glass. That was always your task anyway.

Uh-huh. Seems I wasn't too good at that when I was alive. Or whatever I was. Am. You know what I mean.

Of course.

You seem to have some knowledge as to everything that's going on, Mr. ... uh, Trainer.

No-no. Not really. Since I have been here longer than you, I do have certain understandings as to what kinds of things happen. But knowledge is infinite, and we have much time. In a million years or so, you and I will seem to be fairly much the same.

Million years. Right. Trainer. Let me get right to the heart of it. Which place am I going to, as if I didn't know?

Which place? Oh, there are so many! It would really be meaningless to attempt to explain it to you. Oh! Yes, yes, I see. You are referring to your archaic notions of heaven and hell. Of course. I should have guessed! Most others are not immediately concerned with that. But you are the analytical type.

Yes. I am. So? Which is it? Maybe you're not an angel. Maybe you're a demon, or devil. Or maybe THE Devil! That what you are?

No-no-no, I assure you not that, lad.

And why all the damn formality? I have a feeling I'm being greased for something here.

"Uhm-m-m, so like your kind. So like you. This is not a healthy attitude for you to take, this cynicism and irreverence; it's unhelpful. But, no matter. Enough time to adjust. No, you are not being greased for anything, and the way I speak is the way I speak. There is a certain order of things here, which, I might add, I enjoy, and which is largely unlike your former life. You will learn this. It does not pay to contravene that order, for the Balance of things in this lifetime is resolute and irrevocable. Do I make myself clear? There is no escape from this fundamental structure."

Who decides how much, and what?

Besides our Creator, of course, I should say that is too complex a question for me to answer. Let us state that one of the axioms of existence is that all things which are created balance perfectly. It can be no other way.

"You're talking about perfect and poetic justice. Which we know there ain't none of. Somebody's got to dish it out; it won't just happen. There are too many random things around to screw it up."

Not true, Mr. Townsend. Trainer finished his drink. "Not true at all! There is justice in fact. It is always operative, and it needs no one to make it work effectively. What you refer to are conditions on your Earth, in your prior lifetime. When you have eternity, there is nothing but justice. Again, you will come to see this." The big man's easy grin bloomed on his face.

Where am I going Trainer? Am I a good guy, or a bad guy?

I would also choose not to make this characterization. It is much for you to determine. And completely irrelevant to me. Let me say this, the question you ask is, for the most part, meaningless. Once again, Good and Evil are entirely relative. You have thought this yourself on many occasions.

Okay, then. Is there going to be lots of pain and suffering, searing and burning in eternal hellfires? Or do I play a harp?

The large man threw his head back and laughed robustly, his massive chest muscles shaking the neat, white coat. I imagine you can do both, if you so desire. Once again, you hearken to a primitive belief we hear so often from those of your planet. It must be that your kind sees so little justice on Earth that they fiercely seek it out in afterlife. This simply isn't so, at least not in the sense you are used to thinking of it. As I say, there is justice and a perfect harmony in all things. The man's eyes glistened with intelligence and easy good humor.

There can be many heavens and hells, he continued, "it depends on who you are. There is no one place of pure and eternal suffering, and no single place where you can have only infinite rapture. This would not be balance. Yet, not to be completely evasive, Mr. Townsend, given the two extremes which you suggest, you would be in hell."

"Dammit! I knew it. Damn it all to hell! I just knew it!" Feeling a greater surge of strength, the younger man threw his glass into the wall, shattering it. You know, my mother always said it could be worse. It could be worse, couldn't it, Trainer?

The large Guide sighed. Unquestionably. Come, Mr. Townsend. You cannot stay here.

Are you nuts? You're inviting me into hell, and you want me to help! I don't think that's a great idea, Trainer, I've got to tell you.

"No-no-no! You are already there, Townsend. Leaving here is necessary to process you, and to remove you from an area which will otherwise be painful for you, and largely irrelevant. You see, you are not truly here in the sense that you were before you passed on. You are, after all, deceased, in the human sense. You may come back to the true place, of which this is only a shadow, later on, if in a new capacity. Should you so choose. But not for a while, I would think."

Why should you, or anyone here, care if I'm in any pain?

Some will, some won't! It all balances out.

"Yeah, yeah, balance. But, why do you seem to care? Is it an act?"

It is my function, the big man answered plainly.

Right. What about the really rotten people, those who killed and tortured in their lives? It's got to be right to give them pain and suffering forever. That would be justice, right?

Trainer raised his eyebrows. Mm-m. Try to see that in this fashion. How many years would you want to see Adolf Hitler tortured before you felt it was enough?

Forever! You've got to be kidding!

No. Picture this. Every day you'd wake up and there would be Adolf, suffering away, his eyes burning off over and over, his arms melting in acid, his abdomen imperiled with knives and swords, his legs dissolving into bloody juice; fingers would be pulled off one by one, knuckle by knuckle, burning, molten lava being poured into his throat, followed by beautiful women ripping off his genitals with a razor-sharp, iron claw. That about the picture?

Uh-h, yeah. Kind of. The younger man's stomach turned more sour than it was at the description. Somehow Dante made everything sound a lot more romantic.

Yes. Unfortunate I am no Dante. And he was rather sorry he had done it once he arrived here. For all the confusion it caused. He wanted only to provide entertainment, albeit brilliantly. Ultimately those primitive concepts will help to undermine the Church within another thousand of your years. You can watch it happen.

No kidding.

Not at all. To continue with Hitler, every day this tortured scene, and others like it, would play itself out again and again. Fifty years, one hundred and fifty years, five hundred, one thousand, one hundred thousand, and still every day our heinous little man, Hitler, is suffering anew his tortures and agonies. A million years pass, and still he is there, suffering every day, screaming, yelling, dissolving into ash, and then being agonizingly reconstructed again for a new session. Ten million, one hundred million years, and then ten million times that many years pass, and more beyond that. Somewhere in eternity there must needs be enough to satisfy justice. After that, there is only vengeance, and vengeance itself must beget its own punishment, for it contravenes balance.

I think I see the point, he said feebly.

I thought you might. Besides, even the most vengeful person would become bored with the whole process far before that time period. And actually forget in that endless time why he was doing it. You are simply not made to enjoy suffering like that. Many of you find that out while you are still in prior life.

"I see. So, you are kind of like an angel!"

No, no. The big man smiled again. "I am more like a tour guide!"

Then, you'll be with me, or around me, throughout eternity, wherever it is I go, helping me out?

I will be around, most assuredly. The wise eyes glanced about, as something barely tangible in the air shivered through the big man's frame. It is time to go now.

Yeah. I guess it is. Trainer? How did I die? You know?

Yes. Heart attack. Massive, sudden. You suffered little, and not long.

* * * * * * * *

"But I was only thirty-five! Just. My birthday was last week. And my girl didn't even get me a present. Probably gave it to Rider! How's that possible? Why don't I feel anything, and why don't I remember it?"

Trainer's eyes displayed a characteristic amused twinkle. "I'm no physician; however, I can tell you that fatal heart attacks at that age are not unknown. As to your dying, that is part of your past life, not this one. Before that moment you were there; after, you were here. The actual dying process is not recorded in your brain, mercifully, so you do not remember it. Shall we?" Trainer started moving toward the front door.

What if I don't follow you? What if I run away to somewhere else? What would happen then?

The older man turned and gazed into the younger's eyes. Where can you run? You don't know where you are.

I can see I'm in my own livingroom. It must be similar to my prior life, Gary indicated by waving his arm around at the room.

Mm-m, the attempt would be futile. You can try if you like, but you would not get far before requiring, mm-m, service. Trust me on that, it will save you unneeded anxiety. Come, see what I mean.

The young man walked toward him slowly. It was now less of an effort than when he had awakened earlier. Suddenly the apartment evaporated, as if fog had overtaken it, and instead of the fog dissipating, the room did. As he reached Trainer, the surroundings resolved into a lush field of a dozen shades of green plant life, covered by a deep, purplish-navy blue sky. Foamy, pale mauve clouds moved slowly far overhead, the sense given by looking at them that they were farther away than any Earth person had known, and yet far beneath the intense yellow-orange sun, perhaps twice as large as the one he remembered, yet casting only pleasant light and warmth upon the skin.

"Oh God! You did this?" He turned himself in a circle looking about.

I did not. This is what is here.

It, it looks like a beautiful pastoral scene from Earth, but with variations. I would have expected things to be a lot different than this. In a strange way, this is downright comfortable!

It is one of the more popular settings in all eternity for entry into this domain for many of your type. I imagine your Earth was created somewhat of this image.

You imagine? You don't know?

Trainer shook his head. They began walking side by side through the tall, slightly moist grass. It appeared to have rained shortly before they arrived, but the new arrival gave it no notice.

What are you, Trainer? Like me? Where do you come from?

Oh, not quite like you, Mr. Townsend. I come from here, like this environment.

You mean you're not human?

Yes and no. I'm humanoid, to be sure, but not human as you are referring. I was, after all, not created on Earth.

I see. How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?

My goodness. Now there is a question. Several million years, by your reckoning, I should think. No one keeps track. It is very difficult even to try after the first million years or so. Minds are finite, and the numbers keep on rolling toward infinity. One cannot remember everything. Besides, it is rather pointless.

How much of that time have you been here?

Why, all of it.

You mean you were never anywhere else? Always here?

Always. I am one of the permanent inhabitants of this reality.

But you look alive! And normal.

I've always been both, thank you. I would suggest you do not strain too much to understand this existence. Its complete structure is largely beyond even your gifted ability to analyze or comprehend. And mine, too, to anticipate your next question. One simply cannot understand everything. This is the nature of things, if one is not God.

A large cardinal flew overhead, in shocking relief from the sapphire sky. Gary watched it in surprise. "Hey! Animals! There are animals here. I just realized. Are all the animals here?" He struggled to keep up with the fast moving ancient.

Yes, of course. Not in this particular area, you understand, but all the plant and animal kingdoms from all realities are in evidence somewhere in eternity.

You mean, when they died, they were like me? Before, and then after, they're here?

Not precisely like that, but similar. Others are from this reality, like myself. Still others are from different existences, or dimensions, as you might like to call them.

Animals. Wow. I don't understand why. I mean they're all innocent. Why are they subjected to the pains of Earth's existence? I can't see why they'd need a trial. You know?

I would caution you against indulging in your Earthly stories and fantasies, Mr. Townsend. Keep an open mind, and you will learn. He shook his head slightly without slowing his pace. Prior existence is not precisely a trial. No-no, it's not as simple as that.

Not a trial. Then why are we on Earth, and then here? And why all the pain and problems? Why aren't we born right here at the start? Like you.

Intriguing questions. You may learn the answers in a few million years. Mainly, this is the way you were designed, your fundamental nature. Also, life is an education process to enable one to appreciate reality, starting here, and ending there. He moved his right hand from one side of his body to the other. As nearly as I understand the phenomenon myself.

"What about Adam, Eve, Moses, Christ, the Devil's temptations. You have to be the Devil, and this is all a lie!"

Yes. This is the biggest problem we have with Earth people, particularly from your era. You've invented so many stories and rationalizations to explain, and contradict I might add, your universe, that you are unable to readily accept the truth, even when you are standing neck deep in it.

The truth.

Gary stopped walking and Trainer turned back toward him.

Yes. Keep moving, Mr. Townsend. It will do you good in orienting yourself to your new lifetime.

Townsend looked around him, only then noticing the wetness on his shoes from the grass. Where are we going? And how long are we going to walk?

I'll let you know when we get there.

Right. They continued walking a little further. "So what is the truth, Trainer, huh?" The younger man quipped.

There are many. Trainer gave his ward a nudge in the spine, and they resumed walking in the thick green grass of the field. "First, I have never met a devil. I doubt you ever will. Remember, good and evil are purely relative. Pain, disease, death, loss, suffering, these phenomena simply are. They are a function of being. There cannot be a front without a back, up without a down, happy without a sad. If you played Black Jack and got 21 every time, there would be no point to the game.

Existence is like that. If you live, you experience chance, you come to know both polarities of any phenomenon. You suffer because you know happiness, and vice versa. This is unavoidable. To fantasize some super being whose sole purpose it is to orchestrate these negative factors, which have to occur anyway without him, is silly.

No devil?

I suppose it depends on what you want from your devil. Certainly I have none. But this image you have conjured up of pitchforks, flames, horns, spitting up pea soup! Nonsense.

"You can say that so easily because you've never lived on Earth. When you're there and suffering, or see the innocent suffer and die, it becomes easier to believe some power is behind it, and that it’s evil because of the senselessness of it all."

That is very perceptive, young man. You're probably right.

Really! How about that.

Indeed.

The two men picked up their pace as they walked into an enormous, and still growing, reddish sun.

There is a God, though, huh?

Obviously. You're here aren't you? However, you'll not be able to understand Him, either!

Wonderful.

Quite.

* * * * * * * *

Chapter 2

The two men continued walking for what seemed like hours to the Earth man, facing the giant sun constantly, which sank with exceptional slowness into the horizon, a huge reddish-orange disc which filled up a quarter of the distant sky before them. He noted the splendid fullness and variety of the many trees and bushes which surrounded them as they walked, becoming aware of the streams and ponds scattered about their journey, and the myriad wild life which inhabited them. Familiar squirrels, rabbits, and birds of all sorts, flitted about them taking little notice, plus a variety of other highly colorful animals he could not discern.

Trainer? We getting near there yet? I'm getting tired! How the heck can you get tired after you die?

Almost there, Townsend, almost there. You are tired because that is the byproduct of exercise, even here. Balance, remember?

Yeah, right. Balance. You know, if everything is so similar here, can I die again? I mean, what if I get squashed by a falling boulder? Will I die, or something?

"No-no, it is not possible for your kind here. You can never die again. This state you are in now is your purest created essence, and it cannot be destroyed by any except God, which of course He would not do. However, you can feel pain, and pleasure also. Should you be crushed by that heavy boulder, it would provide only a transitory inconvenience. You would of course be in great pain, but this would pass rather quickly, in a few months or so. You would suffer a variety of broken bones, and then mend completely. Accidents can happen everywhere, Townsend. It is your lot to beware when necessary."

Yeah, but what if I got thrown into a sun or something like that?

I would not advise it. It would be unhealthy. And extremely painful.

Wonderful. This makes my day, Trainer. You know? Mondays must suck everywhere.

If you like! Ah! We are almost at our destination. By the way, you are required to complete an autobiographical account of your life, ah, for the record. It is very instructive in your evaluation of your past life, placing it in perspective with this one.

What if I don't write it? Hypothetically, he added quickly, considering it due caution.

Trainer turned to eye him and raised one eyebrow. It would be your loss. We only suggest, if quite strongly; we are in charge of your welfare after all. You have all eternity to you. Eventually you would decide to do it, and realize you'd have lost something by not having done it sooner.

I see.

Excellent. It is to your benefit.

Is our trial here then?

No, no. Forget this trial idea, young man. You have only new things to learn here. In this new environment, who and what you are will determine your final disposition.

"I thought this was my final disposition!"

"Mind you, final has a whole other meaning in this version of your life, where time is measured in eons. Here, a million years is a rather paltry passage of time. And, too, you do not know exactly what ‘this’ is. In the Eternal Scheme of things, you and I both are but children, young children, not too far apart in age, actually. It’s not possible for us to know all. Somewhere in the course of things, and over the next several hundred millennia or so, you will find a true self-definition. And, if you work harmoniously within this framework, your existence will be a pleasant one. If somehow you do not, the very fabric of this reality will work in exact measure against those efforts, and that could cause you great anguish. For a time. Until balance and justice were obtained again."

So, this place is heaven and hell all rolled into in one, is that it?

Oh, I suppose it very well could be seen that way, to oversimplify, yes.

Are there places more heaven-like than this?

"Than this? Yes! Again, to oversimplify. It also depends on who you are as to whether any one place is more pleasant or unpleasant, you know. Which is only logical. That should appeal to someone like yourself. From our standpoint of course, it is all the same, more or less."

You make it sound almost boring.

Oh, it is hardly that! You will find events are always rather stimulating. You have much to learn, and it will take your lifetime to learn it. Then, too, never forget that our Creator is a tireless artist. He never stops creating. There will be more realities and universes several eons from now than there are currently. You will always find enough to amuse yourself.

I see. Who decides where I'll be as time goes by?

"You do. But for now, you are here, in this location. That has been decided by your nature and life so far, which was constructed by the Creator. Where you go from this point forward is determined by you. There is a great deal of choice. Ah! There we are, just ahead. Your destination."

The younger man's eyes widened as they strained ahead. The two men stood upon a large bluff. Two miles below them were the outskirts of a small town. The huge sun had finally set, and they could see the lights flickering on in the approaching dusk.

What is that, a town?

Perceptive, Townsend. The older man's right cheek twitched a flicker of a smile.

Okay, what's it called?

Greenville. Simple enough place, but with enough modern convenience.

Modern convenience? How can anything be modern or archaic here? Isn't afterlife in all times?

No. It is in its own time, and that changes somewhat as you travel throughout the universe. You'll come to see how all this operates the longer you are here. Come now, let's start down the hill if we are to make town by evening. There is a path over here. Ah, yes!

The travelers found a path of closely cropped lawn amidst the taller, thicker grass. It led as far as the eye could see, becoming a fine, nearly invisible thread which snaked its way into the distant town.

Now then, Trainer continued as they made their walk into Greenville, Certain locations and groups of people retain certain time periods and styles in their towns and cities dependent upon their preferences. Some are modern, some ancient, and everything in between, Since the Afterworld has been around for many eons, those towns and cities have been as they are, now, for quite some time. People arriving here presently, as well as those who have been here a time, go to those places they find more interesting and hospitable for them than others. In that they have the whole universe of planets, towns, lakes, oceans, and so forth, to choose from, the variety is literally endless. No one should be bored.

Hm! Interesting, and I guess sort of logical. Say, we better get going. We'll never make that town before dark at this rate.

Not to worry. It is seldom pitch black in this realm; never, here. Elements are balanced so there is always ample light to be comfortable, and see plainly. No sense wasting half the time in darkness. See the large moon, and the bright stars!

Yeah, bigger and brighter than I've ever seen them before. Trainer! We’re not on Earth! I'm no great astronomer, but the stars look totally different.

"That is because we are in fact not on Earth, Mr. Townsend."

But, I was just home a little while ago. I can't have walked off the whole planet! What gives?

"You have not been on Earth since the moment you passed on. This is another place; in fact, another reality altogether. Another dimension, if you will. No Earth here. For many purposes, including that of your transition, this place will reserve many familiar conventions. Don't concern yourself. You will adapt."

Naturally! That's because I have absolutely no choice.

Trainer looked over at his young companion and smiled. You wish to become God already, young man?

No. No! Don't mind me, I just had a hard day. Damn Mondays. He picked up his pace involuntarily. So, are there any violent types around? Guys who give you a real hard time?

Not generally. Not the way you mean, and, not here.

No violence?

Not really, no. Again, not here, in this realm. Save for accidents.

Accidents? How ...

The large man interrupted. "Freedom engenders accidents, Townsend. Even here. There is no way to avoid it. Freedom is of its very nature quite dangerous. But that is the way the Creator wished it to be. And for your sake, I might add. However, the most severe consequences are not extant here. Even so, there is a modicum of danger necessitated by the very essence of freedom."

But if I have free will ...

You do.

So, what if I chose violence while I’m here in this place of no violence? How about that?

You would not.

But what if I did!

"I repeat, you would not! It isn't your nature. He sighed. If you were the type, you would be elsewhere."

Oh. I see. Elsewhere being ...

"Not here! Another universe, in another dimension, where those with such temperaments serve out their own eternity. As it is, I must say that you do not fit with great precision into this parcel of reality, but, the Creator has designs for everything. It is not for such as I to question." The man grumbled the last bit and then sighed.

How's that?

Nothing. Merely commenting to myself on the mystery of the Creator's motives.

Is that right! So, you don't think I belong here, eh. Where is it you would put me, Trainer? What's the matter with me?

It is not for me to say where else you should be. It is rather that you appear to my mind less than ideally suited for this particular domain. You are not relaxed enough, not at ease enough with your existence, or creation in general, for that matter. But if you have been placed here, it is certain that it is part of the Plan, and your appropriate destiny.

Well, I'm glad you see fit to let me live in your world, old man.

"It is not my world, Townsend. It is ours! All of ours who inhabit it; and by design."

The young traveller nodded thoughtfully. The two walked briskly on for some time in silence, the evening time never becoming any darker than a pleasant dusk. The young Earth man took in the terrain. He only recently noticed the taller grass, about 4 inches high, which surrounded the closer cropped surface of the path they walked on; Trainer told him it never grew any taller.

The trees were of many varieties: firs, spruces, maples, and dozens of styles clearly not of Earthly design. One had the appearance of a lattice-work in green lace, from the ground to its top some hundred feet above ground. Others simply had strangely shaped or multi-colored leaves and berries.

There was a particular piece of foliage Trainer referred to as a Snow Flake Tree, which had a traditional trunk, but with pale greenish-white leaves that were shaped as large, gossamer snow flakes, some twelve inches across. It started out wide at the bottom, and tapered in Christmas tree style, shimmering to its surface far above the ground. The Earth man found it magnificent.

There were also a great variety of vegetation which bore fruit, some of which they picked and ate as they walked. Gary Townsend recognized many of the varieties here, but there were a great many that were strange. Everything tasted delicious, but his favorite so far was a cucumber-shaped, tan fruit with an edible, thin outer skin, which grew on a tall vine, and having the taste of apple, peach, and pumpkin.

In general, vines and bushes came in short and tall versions, bearing everything from multi-colored berries (some the size of coconuts), to huge, pumpkin sized sweet fruits. Altogether the environment was a colorful picture of healthy vegetation, and of the multi-hued animals which foraged within it.

He came upon a small, rust-colored rabbit-like creature, similar to an Earthly style rabbit, only with shorter ears, which he nearly tripped over while he was admiring the scenery. It was chewing on a berry of some kind and refused to be disturbed until it finished. The young man stopped and bent down to look at it closer. Cautiously he reached his hand out toward the creature and then scratched its furry ears. The rabbit sniffed at him, one eye staring into his, and continued to finish his fruit.

When it was done, it went through a face-washing routine using its tiny black hands with what looked like three fingers and an opposable thumb, then hopped away into the brush. Gary stood and increased his previous pace to catch up to Trainer, who had only slowed down.

Hey. Trainer, he called when he caught up, I was just thinking. Since it never really gets pitch black here, there must be a bunch of people who find it tough to sleep.

No fear, Mr. Townsend. There is no need for sleep here. Isn't being dead enough? The large man grinned at him.

Funny. There are people who love to sleep; this place would be hell for them. Hm-m.

Not so, Mr. Townsend. They rapidly adjust once here. One of the things you will quickly learn is that most of the species of created beings do not sleep, which is to say, they have never slept. This is characteristic of your world, of many of the earlier species of each creation; but you will learn all that later. Suffice it to say that sleeping is not a requirement of life. I have always found this a rather bizarre waste of lifetime myself.

If you don't sleep, how do you rest! Your mind, your body?

Rest and relaxation do not require unconsciousness! Rather, it may mean changing tasks, reading instead of chopping wood, for instance. Or vice versa.

That really is bizarre. No sleep. And you say there are a lot of others who never slept?

"Yes. On your Earth, for instance, it began due to the night time. Man did not have proper vision to see in it, so he retired to dark caves where he would wait until the following day. Didn't you think it strangely coincidental that the average human's sleep time was nearly identical to the amount of time it was dark? In any case, over the millennia, that man who was able to sit still in a shelter during the night hours survived better. This time period came to be ideal for certain bodily cleansing and healing processes to take place, rest among them, since nothing else was going on. It became a habit. That's all. It was a tradition that many of you became used to over the eons, although not all. So, you slept, during your time.

"Eventually humans evolved out of this primitive practice. Other beings who developed in world of multiple suns, for instance, had no pitch darkness, so sleep never had a reason to be. And on still other worlds, fire was an earlier invention, or there were chemical forms of light production, or vision existed which was able to pierce any darkness, and so the night held no problems for these creatures. Thus, no need for sleep development.

If you think that is strange, there are several species who never had any need for rest, being able to work years at a stretch, without a stop, except for nourishment. Yes, infinite possibilities, Mr. Townsend. Sleepers are a tiny minority in the universe.

Looks like we've hit the town, Trainer. Just beyond that cluster of tall vines. This ought to be interesting.

* * * * * * * *

The two travelers approached the main road into town. The Earth man was surprised that he saw no automobiles or motorized form of transportation of any sort.

No cars? he asked aloud, mostly to himself. People fly around or something?

No. There are no motorized machines in this town, and few others on the planet. Local preference, you know.

Trains, planes?

Not many. A few towns with shuttles to take one off planet, or connect the great distances between planetary cities. Getting to and from Greenville Center is a 50 mile walk from any perimeter. The transport depot is approximately 100 miles west of it, if memory serves me correctly.

There are things you forget?

Over several million years, one's memory is not as good as it was for recent events. I am not infinite, my dear boy. Memory within us is finite. You will find it much exceeds your Earthly capacity, but still it will be limited over the millennia. After a few hundred thousand years, you may find you have forgotten some of the earlier memories. Fear not, there is generally no need to remember things for more than a million years.

Only a million years, huh. I'll live with it.

Assuredly.

Townsend looked around him. The streets were a grey and pale red brick cobblestone. Although the buildings and architecture denied any particular era he knew of, they were reminiscent of late 19th to early 20th century Earth. Ordinary enough looking people were ambling along the white stone walkways. As far as he could see, there were no buildings over four floors.

Walking now on the main cobblestone road, Townsend noted some people riding bicycles slowly by in orderly fashion.

"It certainly is quiet here, for an entire town. I didn't really feel like I was dead until now. I kept thinking maybe this was a dream, or maybe the afterlife wouldn't be so bad. This is dull enough to be frightening."

Trainer remained silent.

The younger man looked to his companion for an answer. There was none issuing forth, nothing to be read in the elder man's countenance. He was about to ask where they should go first, when the big man's substance thinned slowly, then vanished before his eyes; he had become increasingly transparent until there was nothing of him visible at all. Townsend reached out to touch the space vacated by his stately travelling companion, and grasped air.

Why does this not surprise me? This must make me Cosmo Topper! He spoke quietly to himself. I wonder if they have videos here? If not, this is going to be even more boring than I feared. Okay, let us see exactly what we do have. Wouldn't like to disappoint my host. Or whatever.

He walked along the colorful road, hands in his pockets, gazing at the buildings he passed. Sparse, non-ornate designs of angular structures with wood, brick, and stone facades lined the streets, with a good amount of space between them, perhaps a hundred or so feet. It was not a crowded town from any aspect. He came upon a hotel, distinguishable only by a small, brown and white sign outside the door which read Hotel; he'd try to remember that for later. There was an ice cream parlor, a general store with food, hardware, and miscellaneous supplies, a restaurant (The Clockwork Inn), a variety of small odd shops selling gifts, ceramics, art, books, furniture, clothing. And -

A church? I'll be! Hm!

It was a large, beige structure, displaying a lofty, pointed steeple with a huge, silver bell within its belfry. He headed for the two enormous doors which marked the entrance, then hesitated for only a moment before he pushed one open and walked inside. The doorway opened into a much larger foyer, decorated in brown and gold. It looked ancient, thousands of years old, and yet there wasn't a smidgen of dust or dirt; the room itself was immaculate.

There was a smoothly waxed wood plank floor, and some type of indirect lighting surrounding the fifty foot cathedral ceiling, while coffee-colored wall paper displayed a light pattern of small gold and rose flowers. He noticed two diamond shaped mirrors at the right and left sides of the oval room, built into the wall rather than hung upon it.

Big, clean, deserted, and dull, Townsend mumbled to himself, like I'd always imagined. Figures.

He moved forward, through a cathedral-shaped archway some twenty feet in height into a large, circular area with many rows of small, leather-covered chairs, situated so that they radiated outward and upward in circular fashion, right to the pale yellow and white walls. The floor descended on a slight angle toward the center of the expansive room in which there was a raised, circular platform with several microphones positioned around its periphery. Apparently several people could speak at once, or one could walk in a circle so as to address all, which the new arrival thought was strange; however, he had prepared himself to accept nearly anything. He sat down in one of the chairs, about midway down an aisle, finding it quite comfortable, staring myopically into the center for a few restful minutes.

The quiet was overwhelming, not a creak or a moan, or a breath of air movement, not a mouse footfall, or a grain of sand tumbling from a chair.

Well, I guess I've taken this for about as long as possible, he whispered, providing the only sound in the immense room. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked down at the perfect wood floor, then raised his foot and stomped it down as hard as he could. No echo, he commented as the sound ended the instant after he'd made it. Weird.

He arose to leave, thinking he would find a place to eat and sleep, whether he needed it or not. It was normal, and he needed to do something that at least felt normal. As he turned to walk out, he gazed up at the gigantic chandelier which covered nearly the entire ceiling area, far above him. It hung down nearly a third of that distance, and splayed brightness about with its hundreds of immaculate crystalline pieces, all glowing a dim, bluish light.

Must be a wealthy parish! he quipped softly, smiling at the absurd thought. Gary Townsend had begun his gentle ascent to the exit, still gazing upward, and walked immediately into the chest of a hearty man appearing to be about seventy, clothed in black.

Yeow! he exclaimed aloud, more surprised that he was surprised at all. Ex-excuse me! I thought I was the only person in here.

I understand, son, the man replied plainly, as if he had expected the visit. You are a new arrival to this area. The deep, sober voice made a statement.

"Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I am. I mean, not unfortunate that I'm here, but, you know, that I just died."

I quite understand. It's very common. You might say, normal.

The younger man uttered a terse, breathy laugh, Yeah, normal. Are you the Priest or Rabbi of this place?

The man had a large oval face with a ruddy, lightly tanned, complexion. I am the Rector of this facility. Is there something I can help you with? The voice was kindly enough, yet it issued from a stern and humorless countenance.

I'm sure there is, Father, if I may call you that. Since I'm new here and don't understand any of the customs, probably anything that you could offer would be of help to me.

That is one of my duties for the inhabitants of this town. Is there any specific thing I may aid you with? the Priest beseeched him.

Well, sure. I guess you could start by telling me whether or not the people are happy here.

Of course! Why would they be otherwise?

Townsend's eyes widened momentarily, struck by the irony of the statement from the sullen old man. Happy would be the last way he would characterize this man. He wondered if the priest ever looked in a mirror. I've got a lot of answers to that one, Father. Already. Starting with, why would anyone want to be here in the first place, assuming he had a choice.

I see. For all inhabitants in afterlife there is infinite choice, he spoke monotonously, as if it were rehearsed, pronounced many times before. Tastes vary greatly among all the inhabitants of this existence. Those that are here find it simple and comforting. And, of course, they can stay as long or as short a time as they like, always free to go elsewhere.

That how you came to be here? the new arrival questioned. You chose the simple life?

Not exactly. I am a priest. I go where my duty is.

What duty? You died, for heaven's sake! Why here? Doesn't it seem strange to you that in all of eternity, and with all the people who must have died everywhere, that there are so few people here? In a town that could accommodate a thousand times this population?

Irrelevant, young man. There are still duties. The town is as it is, and one is what one is.

I’m Gary. Gary Townsend. I don't mean to be discourteous, Father, so forgive me. That's the way I am, I guess. A skeptic, a methodical doubter, an analyst. Hasn't changed, apparently. You did say there are infinite choices for everyone. Certainly that includes you.

The Priest furrowed his eyebrows. "I am a Priest. I have always been,