After
“Hello.”
I opened my eyes. I was in my room, alone, where I had fallen asleep, but something was wrong. The room had taken on a gray hue, and a fog obscured the floor.
Was there a fire? I thought to myself. That seemed to be the only logical explanation, that smoke was obscuring my vision. The instinct to survive kicked in, and I made my way to the window to climb out onto my front yard.
“Don’t bother. It won’t open. I chose this room, so you’d be comfortable.”
Who was speaking? I had lived alone for the past twenty years, and I wasn’t one to receive visitors. Did I have someone over last night? I couldn’t remember, the details were cloudy when I tried to recall them.
“I’m in your head.”
That was certainly not what I wanted to hear. On top of memory loss, I was going crazy.
“No, you are not crazy. Just dead.”
That’s even farther down on the list of things I wanted to hear. How could I be dead? I was sitting in my room, and while it was different, it was still my room. Same room I had come home to everyday, same room I had spent most of my life in.
“If you want, I can change the room.”
That won’t be necessary. If I understand how this is working, I think, and you hear. So, let’s say I believe that I’m dead, and that you, the incorporeal voice that I am speaking to in my head, are real, who are you? Death? God? The Devil? I wasn’t exactly a saint, so I guess I’d understand if I’m being sent to hell.
“No one that important, although I guess they all apply in some way.”
So, you aren’t anyone I expected. Are you here to whisk me away to a chosen afterlife, or is there some other ending when we all die?
“No. This is it. I just wanted to talk a bit before I removed you from existence.”
What the fuck? Remove me from existence? That’s what happens when you die? No permanent residence at the pearly gates, no eternal mead hall in Valhalla, I don’t even get the chance to be resurrected?
“Yes. Are you surprised?”
Just a bit. I guess someone had to be right. What does not existing feel like?
“Like you don’t exist.”
Very helpful. So, if you’re just going to wipe me from existence, why bother with all this? Why set me up in my own room, and start having a conversation with me like this is somehow normal?
“This is normal to me. I like to talk to people I found interesting before I wipe them. You are merely the latest in an eternal line of organisms that I have met.”
Organisms? Are you speaking to animals too? I can’t imagine a deer would-
“Deer happen to be one of my favorites to talk to. They lead quite simple lives.”
Thanks for cutting me off to inform me of your favorite animal.
“My favorite animal is not the deer; it is the crow. They pay the most attention. They tell the best stories.”
How long until you wipe me?
“Until I feel like it. Eternity, a nanosecond, it is up to you and your conversation skills”
My conversation skills? Sorry, I haven’t exactly felt like talking. There are only two options here, either I’m crazy or dead, and both are not exactly easy to process.
“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”
Don’t you have other people to wipe out of existence? I can’t be the only one dead right now.
“Time and reality do not work the same for me. I am talking to thousands of others like you, and thousands of others that are not like you. Organisms from other planets, from different realities, stories that have been forgotten. I speak to them all.”
That’s real deep and all, but why bother speaking to me? I’m sure there were thousands of humans like me, and probably thousands of whatever else you said that were very similar.
“Because you will never exist again.”
So, you want my life story?
“Yes.”
Fine. Just make the removal part quick and let me know how I died once we get there.
“That can be arranged.”
Well to begin, I guess I was born. Family of 3, only child. My parents were normal, ordinary people. Dad was a carpenter; Mom was a nurse, though she left pretty early. It wasn’t perfect, but you play the hand you’re dealt. When I grew up and went to college, I didn’t know what I wanted to do forever. I had issues with commitment. Dropped out second year, became a coffee barista, then a bartender, and that’s where I was until today. The End, story over.
“Tell me about your regrets.”
I don’t have any.
“You do.”
I don’t feel like talking about it.
“We have plenty of time.”
Fuck you.
“Insults will not buy you any solace from eternal waiting.”
Fine. I guess I’ll talk about her. She was what made the world go round. My family was never really around. Dad worked, and Mom left. I don’t blame them; it’s just how it was. I didn’t really date in high-school. I guess I just didn’t know how to. Didn’t want to mess it up like my parents did I guess. Then she came along. Slapped me right in the face with emotions that I didn’t know how to handle. I took it too seriously, took it a bit too far. Too possessive over something I couldn’t control, and she left because of that. I don’t regret making her leave. I regret ever opening up to the opportunity to begin with.
“We are very similar.”
How? You can wipe things from existence. I served beer to alcoholics in downtown Detroit.
“We are both starkly alone in our lives.”
Maybe I prefer it that way.
“You do not.”
And who told you that?
“Your heart. It begs for attention.”
Whatever. Did you find all that interesting. Making me spill my secrets?
“Yes.”
It couldn’t have been interesting. I barely said anything.
“It was to me. I saw the things you did not speak about.”
What do you mean?
“I saw the interesting parts. The lives you affected, both in good and bad ways, every ripple that your actions caused, every blade of grass that you walked by, every sight you saw and do not remember. I saw it all, from your eyes. It was beautiful.”
Could you not before? If you’re powerful enough to wipe me from existence, why can’t you just watch our lives as they unfold? Would save you from a lot of mundane chatter.
“I cannot see into your realm without your help. That is beyond my limitations.”
You’re shitting me.
“No.”
That’s ridiculous.
“Yes.”
So, what was so interesting about my life?
“You wish to hear metrics?”
I guess. Metrics sound kind of formal though. Maybe just give me some quick facts.
“Here are some interesting ones. You served 2,764,325 drinks in your time.”
It certainly felt that way.
“Another. You saved 1,843 lives in your existence.”
What? Close to 2,000? That’s not possible, I barely even had the capacity for friends, let alone saving that many lives.
“Every action is a ripple. The savior of one life becomes the inadvertent savior of others.”
Explain.
“March 10th, 2013. You were a barista at a coffee chain. A woman came in and asked for a specific order, one that was frequently fumbled. She was having a rough day. When she went to pay her card declined, but you paid for the drink out of your own kindness. If events had changed, she would have swerved her car off the road, killing herself and three pedestrians. Do you want to hear more?”
No, this is too much for me. Tell me how I died, and erase me from existence, lets get this dog and pony show on the road.
“You died of an alcohol overdose in your sleep.”
Oh. Guess that figures. How does the whole erasing thing work? Will I just-
“Goodbye.”
