Author's Note:
While the characters in this story were once living people, I have done very little research on them before writing this. Therefore, the characters I've written are based on the personalities portrayed in the musical Hamilton. Also, the experience of an after-life reflects no specific religious beliefs (including mine). I hope you enjoy the story!
I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. Is this where it gets me, on my feet, several feet ahead of me? If I see it coming, do I run or fire my gun or let it be? There is no beat, no melody. Burr, my first friend, my enemy. Maybe the last face I ever see. If I throw away my shot, is this how you'll remember me? What if this bullet is my legacy? Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me. America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me. You let me make a difference, a place where even orphan immigrants can leave their fingerprints and rise up. I'm running out of time. I'm running and my time's up. Wise Up. Eyes up. I catch a glimpse of the other side. Laurens leads a soldier's chorus on the other side. My son is on the other side. He's with my mother on the other side. Washington is watching from the other side. Teach me how to say goodbye. Rise up, rise up, rise up, Eliza. My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side. Raise a glass to freedom…
The light is blinding. He blinks, but even his eyelids don't shield him from the brightness. It seems to engulf him, almost like it's a part of him.
He doesn't feel pain, which is strange. He could've sworn he'd seen Aaron Burr raise his gun, he could've sworn he felt the bullet strike him between his ribs. He could've sworn he was in a boat, across the Hudson, then put in a bed. He saw Angelica and Eliza by his bedside. He was almost sure.
But that doesn't explain the white light, and the sensation of floating. He moves his arms, but they don't seem to come into contact with anything. He can't feel a floor beneath him.
So, Alexander relaxes. He let's himself sink into the bright abyss he's found himself in, and simply exists. Time passes-maybe a minute, maybe years, he has no way of knowing-but slowly, he begins to feel changes around him. The light is solidifying, and he becomes acutely aware of the position of his body. He flexes his legs and realizes he's standing. Given the new development, he starts to walk.
As he advances (although towards what he doesn't know), the light around him condenses into the floor he's walking on. There doesn't seem to be walls anywhere, or a ceiling, but he has a very strong feeling that he's going in the right direction.
Eventually he reaches a wall. It comes out of nowhere, and he almost walks into it. He stares at it for a second, his head tilted slightly.
"Hello?" his voice comes out clear and strong, even though he feels like he hasn't used it in a while.
As soon as the word leaves his mouth, a part of the wall lights up. It says in big, black letters: ALEXANDER HAMILTON. And then the wall splits in half directly through the middle of his name, and he gets his first glimpse of the other side.
Alexander takes a step, and he feels information flood his brain.
There are people everywhere. There has to be, when it is full with everyone who's ever died, and it expands as more people arrive.
It's mostly just white floor. There are no doors, no walls, nothing separating people. Everyone arrives wearing the same thing: a grey tunic, comfortably looped over the shoulders to keep from falling off.
There is no hunger, or thirst, or even sleeping. No one has bodily needs, nor is there anything that would satisfy them. In fact, there's nothing other than the floor and the people.
No quills or paper, Alexander thinks sadly.
But the information filling his brain reminds him that there's no more need to write.
At some point, white floor gives way to glass. Like a window into the living world, he can use it to see anywhere and everywhere he'd like to. He can hear conversations, see private meetings, and even observe two places at once.
And with enough concentration, the glass below him will disappear, and he'll find himself beside the living. He will exist there as a ghost, seeing but not able to be seen, or touched. However, Alexander already feels the loneliness that causes, and knows he'll prefer to observe from above, as most do.
But mainly, Alexander realizes, the other side is used for discussion. Everyone is here; loved one's, old rivals, historical figures, and great-great-great grandchildren.
And with his second step, Alexander Hamilton already knows who he wants to find.