Adam woke the next morning in a strange place—an office building. His hand went immediately to his head—and it felt just fine. Adam was confused as his thoughts went back to the attack he sustained that night. Logically, Adam knew that he should be in critical condition at the hospital or dead. But here he was sitting in what looked like a reception area, surrounded by people who seemed just as confused as he was.
Just then, a smartly dressed receptionist emerged from a mysterious room. She checked her clipboard, looked around and said, "Adam Banks? Is there an Adam Banks here?"
Adam, still with no idea of what was going on, stood up and raised his hand. "That's me. What's going on?"
The receptionist smiled at him, a wonderful and benevolent expression that made Adam feel strangely light. "Great, you're here. You have an appointment."
She held open the door to the mysterious room open to him and Adam walked in, not knowing what to expect. A beautiful woman with long blond hair so pale that it was almost white sat at a desk. Her face was also very pale—almost translucent. The woman's impossibly blue eyes were wise and she studied Adam's face with red lips slightly parted.
"Hello Adam," the woman spoke with an ethereal, melodious voice, "It's good to see you again."
Adam thought that he would have remembered meeting someone as unreal as this woman. "How do you know me? Why aren't I injured or dead? What's going on?"
The woman gave him a gentle laugh. "Let me make this as easy for you as possible. I've known you all your life. I met you at the very beginnings of your life."
Adam could tell what she was implying but was too stunned to respond.
"The answer to your second question is--you ARE dead. The injuries you sustained during your attack were quite serious. You were unrecognizable when campus security found you Friday morning. This is the place where judgment is handed out. You can imagine that most people don't look forward to their appointment with me. How do you feel about how you've lived your life, Adam?"
"Wait, I'm not quite sure that this is for real. What the hell is going on?"
The woman looked slightly displeased. "Please refrain from using that word here. How about this: Your name is Adam Henry Travers Banks and you were born on September 9, 1982 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. You lost your first tooth during your fourth birthday party. Your first kiss was Joan Raft in the 3rd grade behind the mulberry tree at the east end of your elementary school's field. Your left leg is just SLIGHTLY longer than the right—long enough to make your triple deke more devastating than others. The assignment you were working on last night was on page 276 of your math book."
Adam leaned back and sighed. "Alright, so I guess I have to accept that you're for real. What happens now?"
The woman smiled again. "Answer my question. How do you feel about how you've lived your life, Adam?" Adam thought for a second. "Pretty good, I guess. I kept straight A's in school my whole life. I was dedicated to hockey and didn't really engage in all the after-hours activities my classmates did. I obeyed my parents all the time, even at the expense of my own wishes, sometimes. I treated my friends well and I took care of my girlfriend. I've lived a moral life. Wait...There was this one incident when I was three involving a stolen rubber duck from the grocery store..."
The woman interrupted Adam. "Were you happy? I noticed in your file a negative downturn in your emotional line graph recently. Can you explain that?"
Adam thought about all of the conflicting emotions he had been experiencing recently. "I've been asking myself the same question all the time lately. The answer is—I don't know. I don't know why I was feeling the way I did. But I guess I don't have to deal with it anymore, now that I'm dead, right? Let's get this over with so I can move on."
The woman chuckled with a secret playing on her lips. "You know, Adam, no one has ever said that to me during an appointment. It's mostly a lot of screaming and crying and cursing. It can be pretty unpleasant. But I must say...your case is making my job a little more tragic than usual." She paused for a moment. "Actually, we're not too much in a hurry to have you. I think that we could give you...Another week, maybe? And then in a week's time I'll talk to you again in this office. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."
Adam didn't know how to respond to that. "Okay. I guess I could use the time to say goodbye to everyone."
The woman shook her head. "No one can know about this place and your fate-- Use the time in a way that will benefit you positively. You can imagine that most people would take the time to have a lot of sex—indulge themselves in some way. That's why we don't do this very often. But I'm positive that you're going to be different. I look forward to seeing you next week in a better mood."
The woman gave him one last smile, a special one, and Adam suddenly blacked out.