The Message

The rain outside was heavy enough to make even the locals duck indoors, and yet several people allowed themselves to wonder aimlessly through the streets. Only one of these people wasn’t drunk and was without an umbrella. The man strolled lackadaisically along the city street, accepting the odd looks from those running from a building to their car with nothing but a nod. He had business to attend to, and attracting as much attention as possible was the only way to do it.

He sighed, lifting his face to the sky. He didn’t enjoy his job, but it was good pay, and had a great amount of benefits. His lover appreciated his decision, though she was perhaps a bit biased in her opinion. She was, after all, his lover. She also happened to be a coworker of his. That night was her day off. The man smiled to himself, happy to know that she was safe and warm at home.

Not that he was in any less of a safe position at that moment. A few minutes more and his position would be less than enviable. His job was to climb onto one of the screens of Times Square and carefully switch a single light for a false one, then leave. The false bulb would act as a transmitter, and would allow his companies message to be aired across every screen in the square. With any luck, the new design would also hijack a satellite or two and take over half of America’s viewscreens.

He would jump then, only to be grabbed by the ‘porter and shoved into a small room in the basement of his own house. It had worked in China quite well, though the results were less than desirable in Canada. That was only one time out of…was it really two hundred? How time passed.

His communications implant fizzed quietly in his ear, and an equally quiet voice echoed through the thing. He rolled his eyes and thought, very loudly, You’re going to have to speak a little louder, Nikolai. About 10 more decibels.

“Apologies. I wish to let you know that the square is going to be clear for forty-five minutes at the start of the hour. You need to get up to the screen, make the transplant, and get down before that time elapses. Otherwise, you have an eighty-nine percent chance of getting captured.” The time was shorter than he had in Hong Kong, but much longer than in Edmonton. It wouldn’t be a problem for him at all.

Copy that. Forty-five minutes. Should be simple enough. He checked his watch and grinned. He had ten minutes to get his equipment from the agent below the screen, then he could begin. He turned left at the intersection and crossed the street to the large building where the agent was waiting. The large man handed him the bag and kept a lookout for the police that frequented the area.

Nik, where the hell are all of them?

“An emergency call was made shortly after I contacted you. You’re in the clear starting now.”

He shook his head, slightly annoyed that Nikolai hadn’t told him before. He slipped the climbing gear on, and began the ascent slowly. The magnetic gloves and kneepads made the climb easy and efficient, not allowing for any wasted motion. Within twenty minutes, he was at the desired location, and began his delicate work. It would take another fifteen minutes for the bulb to be installed properly, and another five for it to work.

He extracted the bulb with no undue fuss, but was greeted by a new safety measure in the screen. Once the contact between the bulb and the socket was gone, the entire screen went blank, cutting him off from his main light source.

Nikolai?

“The cops are coming back! Five minutes tops!” Nikolai could be heard clacking away on his keyboard. “You are going to have to risk getting caught. It will take eight minutes to properly install the bulb and get it transmitting. Move it!”

The man growled audibly and began inputting the first of thirty-two operational codes. One screw-up, and he would be dead or worse. He glared at a red screen on his wrist several times, berating Nikolai with language a sailor would be shocked by.

Nikolai, I’ve got it! Get the ‘porter to grab me and the big guy, or we’re both goners! NOW!

“Big guy’s out already. Teleportation of you in three…two…one!”

The man felt his insides churn and closed his eyes, not liking seeing himself disappear and reappear. It was unnerving to any of his fellow agents, and it had become instinct to simply not look. By the time he opened his eyes again, he was in his basement, half a world away.

His lover was standing there, holding a phone out to him, which he accepted gratefully after removing one of his gloves. “Nik?”

“It should work. Cops have no idea what happened and have officially reported it as a minor malfunction. We’re transmitting now.”

He pointed to the fifth television screen, and smiled when the message came online. The message was simple, and had already helped the cause. Some people might argue that it was too much of a risk to send the messages for such a small, meaningless cause.

The man knew, though, from the smile on his lover’s face when the first scene came on the screen, that it had been worth it. He grabbed the ring in his left pocket and smothered his joy. Not only had this night been good for the cause, but also for him and his life. He was now officially retired from field work, and was going to ask the gorgeous woman next to him to marry him.

He turned to the screen again and watched as his work tried to make the world a better place. It was all worth it.

Afterlife Tavern

[Author's Note] This one actually needs some explanation: my friend Kit wrote and sung a song entitled "Afterlife Tavern". It's really good. You'll have to take my word for it. Anyway, this song was one I'd listened to right before going to bed. My dreams did the rest of the shit. I blame you, Kit.[/Author's Note]

I’m a bartender and one night I saw this man walk in and decided to engage him in conversation. Once he realized that he and everyone in the tavern was dead, he asked me a ton of questions.

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“A long time.” I refused to elaborate.

“How did you get to be in this place?” He gestured around the tavern.

“Well, Peter—that would be St. Peter to you—wouldn’t let me go to heaven, because my life had to be weighed and measured. He placed me in limbo, and eventually gave me two choices, seeing as my life was too balanced to be placed in either heaven or hell. The choices were be resurrected as a person that my friends and family knew. They wouldn’t know it was me. The other choice was to help troubled souls like yourself to make their decisions. The tavern setting was my idea, seeing how many people on earth liked the social atmosphere.” I smiled, resting my voice for a moment.

I could tell that my thick accent threw him off for a moment or two before he caught up. Once he did, a flurry of other questions came about. “So, what does one day in this place entail?”

“I open the doors at 9, when all the over-nighters start waking up. Some souls are already waiting by the door. I then serve drinks and food to everyone for the entire day. Some souls disappear during that time, smiles gracing their faces. I know that they’ve made their own choices or Peter has accepted them.”

“Over-nighters?”

“Souls that can’t make a decision during the time that I’m open, or have a long time limit for a decision. I’ve had a few that don’t have a time limit. See that soul in the corner over there? The one taking the drink?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s been here for 32 years. He was waiting for his wife, but now he’s waiting for his son. He’s one of the few that Peter purposely overlooks at the collection time.”

“Where’s he headed?”

I looked at the man, and smiled, refilling his glass. “Heaven. He lived a good life, despite not being a believer. He held his ground when Peter first spoke to him, and told Peter that he cared more about his family than getting into heaven. He said that he’d go through an eternity in hell for his family.” I sighed. “His wife was lucky to have him, and Peter admired him for that. Ended up giving him the choice to wait or go to heaven right away.”

The clock on the wall rang once, alerting me to the time. “Ah, time to lock up. Be back in a sec.” I walked around the bar and headed towards the door. A single soul made it in just before I locked the door, but another got locked out.

“Let me in, please!” She screamed, panicked look on her face. “Please!”

“Hun, you’ll be fine. St. Peter’s got it all figured out.” I closed the blinds and shook the bad vibes from locking her out off my conscience.

“Why’d you do that?” The man at the bar asked when I resumed my normal position.

“Any soul that gets locked out of my tavern between the time I close up and the time I wake up will be taken care of in fifteen minutes, if not less. That girl has nothing to be afraid of.” The clock chimed again.

“What’s that mean?”

“Three minutes left for those with time limits to choose their path.”

“By whose watch?”

I grinned. “By the clock on the wall.”

“Ah.” He thought for a moment. “What time is it?”

My grin grew wider. “God only knows! I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

“Right.” He took a drink with a shaking hand. “What will become of me?”

I took his hand. “Sunshine, you’re gonna stay here with me. You’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yup! You can depend on me…well, my sixth sense, anyway.” A laugh escaped my lips.

“Hey, I’m leaving, hun.” The oldtimer I had pointed out to the man in front of me earlier was standing beside him, an arm wrapped around a strapping soldier’s shoulders. It was the last soul that made it in before I had locked the door. “This here’s my son, Phillip.”

The younger man’s blue-green eyes sparkled with delight, and his crisp uniform brought back memories of my best friend. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gave the best Marine salute I could. Phillip’s eyes grew wide, showing his surprise before he managed a solid salute in return.

“Take care, both of you.” I gave the oldtimer a hug before wiping the tears from my eyes. He cleared his throat as he let go, sending a weak glare in my direction.

“Now look what you’ve done. You’ve gone and made my vision all blurry.” He winked at me before guiding his son towards the door. They faded before even touching the handle.

The man at the bar watched with me as I looked at the other guests, smiles and worried looks going across their faces before they faded into nothing.

“Is it always this calming to watch them?”

I nodded. “Always.”

The clock chimed for a third time, and the last of the limited souls disappeared. The man sighed, downing the last of his drink. “So where would I be heading if I were to make a choice?”

I shook my head. “Choice is an illusion. They already know what you’re going to choose. But this question, I’ll answer for you once, and only once: you’re going home.”

He nodded, as if expecting the answer. “I thought so. Well, goodnight. See you in the morning.”

As he left, I frowned, shaking my head. “Everyone goes home. Except for me…” I took one look around and shook my head. “I’m already there.”

Transcendence

Truth be told, no one ever said I’d be great. No one ever said I’d make something of myself. So, when I made a name for myself, it took everyone I knew by surprise. Hell, it took me by surprise! I knew I had come a long way from where I had begun, but had never suspected that this one single life was the one that had to come to an end. Worst of all is that I remember making my plans to kill myself.

I sat on the rooftop of my office building, having lunch with my favorite coworker. He knew what I was planning to do, and was helping me figure out the best way to do it. He was able to see through any of the ideas I had, regarding them as a pathetic attempt to just end it. According to him, if I was to make a splash, I needed to find the perfect time and place to do it. Any other time would be seen by all as a dramatic pause in everyday life, only to be forgotten with time.

He claimed that I had done everything right in my life to get the perfect amount of attention attached to my name after my suicide. I had few friends, all of whom knew for certain I was doing well and would be convinced that I had done it for a serious reason. My sister and I spoke often, and she knew that I was a firm believer in multiple dimensions of living, and in order to transcend to the next, I would have to die. My parents and I were still better friends than family, my dad and I going to all the big sports games together, and my mom and I going on long shopping sprees to catch up on the latest gossip. Everyone knew I was emotionally stable and that I loved my life.

So, my coworker said my unconscious preparation was perfect. It was my plan that made him scowl. I had planned on jumping off the falls nearby, or maybe drowning myself, but neither sounded just right. He finally sighed, standing and pointing to the edge of the building.

“This is the tallest building in the world. Your building is the tallest in the world. What better way to do this than come up here during the party on Saturday and jump to your death at sunset? You can see the ocean from here, and that’ll make the view truly stunning. To jump off in that gorgeous blue dress of yours would give you headlines in papers around the world.”

I stood as well and walked with him over to the edge. It was a beautiful sight, and would be even better at sunset. I smiled at him, and we began the next stage of planning.

That Saturday, I dressed as he suggested, navy blue dress complimenting my body with an eerie glow. The ribbons from the silver heels wound up my legs until my knees, accentuating the well toned muscles that had taken years to develop. My silver dragonfly jewelry drew the attention of every gold digger at the party, and my black hair was swept up into an elegant bun, several curly strands let loose.

It was about nine when I noticed the sun’s descent marking my time to go. The aforementioned coworker nodded at me, holding to his spot at the bar. I excused myself, smiling at my guests. Fortunately, I only had to go up one flight of stairs to get to the rooftop. If it had been any more stairs, I would have seriously doubted my idea. Either that or I would have taken off my shoes, gotten my dress dirty in order to put them back on, and have had to go out looking like a drunken fool who had stumbled on the rooftop and fallen accidently over the edge. Damned stairs.

I walked over to the edge of the roof, stepping carefully onto the ledge. Thankfully, my dress was short and I could maneuver my body perfectly for the situation. The sun was perfect for my death scene, just barely shining over the horizon. I turned my back to the city, spread my arms, and leaned back, falling as gracefully as I could. The instant I felt gravity take over, relief flooded over me.

It felt as if the gods were pushing me gently down, slowly helping me to my inevitable doom. I had no regrets, falling in such a way. All my life, I had dreamt of being the best businesswoman in the world, and then taking my own life to transcend into higher being. In the end, I felt no pain. Instead, it felt as if I had sunk gently to the bottom of a pool, and water was embracing me from all sides. In the end, my dreams came true.