You would think – when you die – that there'd be a fanfare and you go floating up, clutching at the grass like a cartoon character until the stalk snaps and you're sent rocketing into heaven. Or, y'know; swallowed up by the ground in a blaze of fire and plummeting down to live with the Big D. No, that's not a euphemism. But when I died, it was more like a little vacuum cleaner descended on my thoroughly disturbed spirit and zapped it up and into a big waiting room. Big-ass waiting room shining white - like beyond serious hospital bleached white - and filled with figures dressed in everything from togas to turtlenecks. This could not be happening. Maybe if I bit my tongue and screwed up my eyes real tight then I'd still be on the motorway.
I did the aforementioned steps, but when it didn't work, straightened up. Behind me, others were doing the same. Maybe if I just went back through the light at the back of the room - maybe I could just get back...
A women with the kind of nasal voice you only get in call centers and elevators shouted my name. Perhaps shouted wasn't the right kind of word. More like a dull, painful screech. And yet somehow the voice was compelling, making me want to go forwards. After scanning the faces of those around me and finding that no others were going up, I lifted my bag onto my shoulder and padded forwards. The reassuring bump of the bag I'd worn since 6th form was the only thing that made me realize that this was real. Oh mother of god and hallelujah on high. Oh joy.
"Take your sweet time darlin'." Her sarcastic whine had turned to a voice from my past – homeroom teacher, Mrs Betsridge. I shuddered, and blinked, and suddenly I was back in my prep school and being sent off to the principal's office for doing something bad. I moved around the boot, screwed over by the same compulsion, and selected door number 532. I don't even know what made me do it, I just know that I did it.
The room was even more spotless than the first one. So white that it hurt your eyes. A woman with sleek blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun was sitting behind a desk, watching me. A wave of buttons of all colors and sizes covered the desk, bar a space close to an empty chair which was covered in plastic. It was the only object other than the two chairs in front and behind the desk in the room. So I took my seat.
In the movies you watch, nothing bad ever happens to those who just go by the rules and do the obvious things. Those people who use a little common sense. But who was to know if this even was common sense; what was to stop me throwing my bag at her perfect face and scarpering?
"They pump emotions in through the grates to stop you from doing that, that's what." She smiled, perfect white teeth. I honestly couldn't say which was more blinding; the room or her teeth. Kind of like when Ross in that friends episode got his teeth whitened and couldn't open his mouth for fear of dazzling someone. But to the point - she'd just answered the question that I'd asked in my head not even spoken out loud. What the hell was going on here. Wait- was it rude to say hell here? Like; what if this was hell and a processing unit? Did I even believe in hell!?
"This is the secondary recycling unit." Her voice was like a peal of bells - did this woman have a pretty everything!? "Those souls who were taken from life at an untimely date are given another chance." Well great. Now she'd just made me sound like trash. I pulled my bag onto my lap and wrapped my arms around it, comforted some by it's weight. But she'd also affirmed that I was well and truly dead. Oh hell. Oh hell hell hell hell hell. What would Will do!? He'd be broken when he found out - my little brother was the only relative I'd kept contact with. And James... I didn't even want to think about James.
I wasn't really one for crying, but I suddenly found myself rocketing through all kinds of crazy despair in my head. Perfect blonde pressed a button on her switchboard, and the plastic area in front of me parted to reveal a selection of tissues. I reached for a packet of Kleenex, got distracted by the Balsam, and grabbed a handful out of the tray. So yes, I may have surreptitiously shoved them into my bag, but no one can have too many tissues, right? Turns out perfect blonde really was a saint - oh god what if she actually was a saint - as she sat there and made comforting noises as I sobbed. For at least two hours. Apparently it was standard practice for the recently deceased.
When I had dried the last tear off my face and blown my nose a few times for good measure, the plastic snapped shut and the blonde pushed a pamphlet of options across the table towards me. "Ok; here are your basic three options." She shot me another smile - goddamnit, where were my sunglasses - and opened the paper to page one.
"Option one consists of rebirth into a new human body. However, as you can see-" here she motioned towards the waiting room area from whence I'd come "it's a little oversubscribed." As much as I'd love to be reborn, by the time I'd have gotten out of that waiting room, I don't think even my great-great-great granddaughter would be around. But I'd keep my options open. Just not choose this one. Yep; keeping it real.
"Option two is that you actually just die and are done with your life and go on to the judgement unit. If you've done good in your lifetime, this is filled with happiness. If you've done bad.. well." She frowned, wrinkling her nose at this option. I decided to go with her on that one and throw option number two metaphorically in the trashcan. Keeping my options open, of course.
"Option three... it's a new one. We're still working on it; ironing out the kinks." So that'd basically leave one and two for me to decide. God, did they know about that time I parked in a disabled car parking space? Oh fuck. Or what about the time that I put thumbtacks on my teachers chair? Said teacher being Mrs Betsridge, of course. Perfect blonde leant in, suddenly the image of confidentiality. I almost felt a little compelled to lean in too, but that just seemed a bit awkward, so I kept my cool. "Essentially, we take you as your are now, and plant you in a parallel universe - changing you to fit, obviously." Hold the fucking phone. What the hell was this woman on?
"A parallel universe?" I was surprised that my voice held out and didn't break or dissolve into fits of laughter.
Perfect blonde was not amused. She leant back in her chair, folding her arms and looking a little disgruntled. I almost felt bad for not being excited. Almost. Perfect blonde quirked a perfect eyebrow. "Do you want to hear more or not?"
I nodded, more to humor her than anything else - hey, I was dead. Let's have a ball.
"Ok. So, I believe you read fiction?" I nodded - who didn't? "Well, everytime someone writes a fictional book that is based in a world outside of earth or beyond the time parameters-" yes I lost her there for a little while "-a new parallel world is created. What we do is we take you in body and essence, altering it only to fit the given race of people, and put you in a storyline of one of those worlds, where you are free to live it out. Currently we only offer a few, but they're very sought after, and most-"
"I'll take it." I still, to this day, do not understand what made me speak those words, but perfect blonde's face lit up and she began pressing buttons across her keyboard. Three parcels dropped down from the ceiling; two big, one very small. She slid out from behind her desk, and gathered them up, before dropping them across the plastic part of the desk.
"Right. That's just perfect." She beamed at me - cue sunglasses - before holding up a medium sized package. "This is your outfit package; open it once you arrive and change immediately. It would not do for you to be seen in Modern Earth clothes. Plus," she murmured, scrutinizing me, "your clothes will disintegrate within the hour." I nodded and accepted the package. It was not as soft as I'd expected clothes to be, with something flat and hard. I frowned a little.
"Second package is your bag for the journey. Photos with memorabilia have been transferred to a small pocket - do not allow these to be seen. Also in here are guidebooks in tablet form." She looked so proud for a moment that it almost made me feel a little uncomfortable. "After my personal suggestion, tablets which contain the relevant information can be swallowed, allowing for faster integration into the relevant society." Ok so I was pretty impressed. Perfect blonde was sure living up to perfection. She loaded that package into my arms and I almost groaned. Not fun at all.
"This last package is only to be used at times of great trouble." Her voice went all ominous and dark then, and she practically glared daggers as she set it atop the pile I was holding. "It's the GA device; also known as a guardian angel. They manifest in trinkets of that universe, and we can use them to contact you. They can also be used once to save a life in direst need."
Here I had to interrupt. "You said they? As in, there's more than just one?" I frowned; what was I meant to do with two of them? Save my own skin twice? That didn't really have the same ring as saving your life once in the worst case scenario.
She smirked; I expect if she'd been on earth, that single look would've got hundred of men crowding to her feet. As it was, it was just me, trying desperately hard not to drop or throw anything by accident. "That's in case you encounter a partner who you want to save." I could practically feel my face burning off, and I nodded, trying to keep nonchalant. Yeah. Cool. Whatever. No biggie. As if my first boyfriend hadn't been enough of a miracle.
The thought of boyfriend - or rather, James, with his spectacles and his games and his over-enthusiasm made my throat ache. I was dead. I would never, ever see him again. He'd be at home, and they'd break the news and- I was welling up again, and I gazed at the clean white to try and force back the tears. It worked, to some degree. Now I just had a really bad afterimage of that desk. Perfect blonde rolled her eyes, forced a fake smile, and waved me through to the door on my left. I paused, turned back to her, and was about to murmur a thank you, when she smiled and wished me good luck. Damn. Now no amount of clinical eye-burning white could stop the tears as I made my way through to a-
London taxi?
Hold up.
I dropped into the back seat, thoroughly quizical. And then the world started whirring and whizzing and all of a sudden everything was just gone and I was screaming, holding onto the three packages and trying not to hurl.
Hell's bells.
A/N: The reason that this whole concept may seem a little odd is because I dreamed something similar. OK. Yes, I know I have a strange brain. Thanks. And I kinda wrote this in like, half of a random hour that I had to myself.