He felt light, as if he was floating, but it seemed to him to feel some dull and distant pain. It wasn’t physical pain, but he could feel his skull pierced by a sharp rock, felt his broken leg, it was the right one and he felt his ribs broken, but after a while, the connection broke and he felt nothing else. He suddenly appeared in an absolute darkness, and somewhere in the distance, there was a very bright light shining to which he was approaching at amazing speed. When he got closer, he found out it was an office. Tastelessly furnished, everything was bright white. The whiteness was almost blinding. The lights were so bright. Oh boy, I certainly wouldn’t want to pay this electricity bill, — Martin thought, feeling amused by his own ability to worry about the raising cost of living at moments he actually had bigger problems than that. Such as one to find out how did he get here and what is actually going on. An old man sat in an office chair behind a desk, holding a cup of coffee in his hand, in white porcelain, of course, and was looking for something in an extremely large and thick book that occupied almost the entire table. He scratched his head, grabbed a pen and started marking something in it. He had a long white beard and appeared to be wearing something like a dazzling white dungarees. A big key was laid on the edge of the table.
“So, what we’ve got here, an accident, I see. Sit down Martin,” — he said in a kind tone, but he didn’t look at him and continued to scrabble into the big book. “Well, that’s how I’m going to tell you,” — he raised his head from the book, and drank a whole cup of coffee in one swallow, after which he shivered and made a ridiculous grimace of a disgust. “Currently, we’ve got a lot to do, we’re very busy as you may know, lots people dying, the waiting rooms are bursting, so you’re going to have to wait outside,” — he said with a smile. Martin looked around, behind the windows of the office, there was just that black-and-black darkness through which he came here, so he began to worry that he was doomed to wait in the dark.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” — he laughed, as if he could hear Martin’s thoughts.
“Are you St. Peter? The one who has the keys to the heaven’s gate? — asked Martin fearfully.
“They gave me the keys, yes, but St. Peter I’m not. I’m a doorman, Robert, without a degree yet. I’m just covering. Peter is on a vacation. He said he just needs a rest but there was something else heard through the grapevine, actually everyone is whispering about it, that he’s sick of this job and he’s looking for something else. I don’t understand what he’s complaining about, I like it here. Coffee needs improving though. Also, the pen doesn’t always work, and the chair is not very comfortable to be sat on but otherwise it’s a good job. It’s all about the cost saving up there. We’ve been banned from Lavazza, we’re supposed to lead by example of modesty, so we drink Universal Standard, ugh,” — he said and did that funny grimace again.
“What does it mean to wait outside?” asked Martin again.
He was a little less frightened because Robert came across as a fun guy rather than some sort of a judgmental executioner. So, Martin was actually glad St. Peter is out on a vacation but still very concerned about waiting in the dark.
“You’re going back to earth, we’re full, what is it you don’t understand?” — answered Robert, then stood up, did a little swing dance and laughed at himself. “I once was really good at this, you know. I love jazz.” — he said, and still feeling amused at his own little dance moves, he carried on dancing all over the office. And he also was mumbling something that appeared to be Louis Prima’s Sing, Sing, Sing (With A Swing)
Sing, sing, sing, sing... Everybody start to sing… La dee da, ho ho ho… Now you’re singing with a swing…
“So, I survived?” -Martin asked a little disappointed and also worried. At the thought of the physical pain, he will have to face when he returns to his body, ouch, this time, he shivered.
“No, unfortunately you didn’t survive the fall, but you’re lucky, until we call you for the check in and registration, you will wait on the earth. If it empties a little bit here, we’ll call you. Like I say, you’re really lucky, man, we can only let 500 souls go like this every day, you died at the right moment, my friend, you’re number 499 today. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to wait here in this crowded waiting room. You’re sitting in a room full of nervous souls who are constantly browsing through their memories, countless projections of their previous lives, over and over again, oh, it’s crazy. Everyone’s pushing and many will just complain to you all day. They will moan about things they’ve never been able to do in life but always wanted. Others will explain to you how they would have done things differently back then. Ah, it’s tiring. All day long, lousy faces staring at you, anxiously waiting under relentless karma to be born again. Many of them hesitate, undecided how to move on. It takes them all eternity to decide where they want to be born and what circumstances to choose to cleanse their karma of the previous lives as best and quickly as possible. It’s a loony bin. Everyone’d love to see themselves already up there with him, so they’re getting ahead and tend to skip the queue. The ticket machine is broken. Procurement struggles to get a new one or just get it serviced because Finance pushes in with the cost save initiative. Joseph has to deal with the right order every day. Coordinates the queue and moves undecided ones and big moaners to separated rooms. Oh, saint he is, I wouldn’t want to be working in that department, but you know, someone has to do it, so we job rotate”- he shrugged dissentingly with his head. I told the boss to change that and send people to new lives automatically and to the best of our judgment. It would speed up the logistics, you understand, but he rejected my proposal saying everything has its time, and it would be an imposition, the freedom promise broken and also the encroachment of souls' rights or something like that.” — he explained, shrugging his shoulders. Now go, enjoy it while you still can,” — Robert said with a smile, casually throwing his left hand toward Martin, to which, Martin began to move away from the bright office at tremendous speed.
“And if it encourages you even more, I can tell you that only Tesco instant coffee is served in the waiting rooms, and no milk or sugar, hahahahahaha,” — Robert exclaimed with a loud and slightly sarcastic laugh at the end.
