Texts for Translation 2008:
  Ian Ferguson

RAY’S DECISION

© 2007

Ian Ferguson

A commanding voice boomed from above. Raymond Mackenzie looked around for the speakers, for something that would give him a clue as to the origin of the sound but found nothing, nothing but white walls and rows and rows of white, plastic chairs like the one he was sitting in. Despite its cheap, austere design he was surprised how comfortable it was . “Just as well”, he thought. By his reckoning he had been sitting waiting for something to happen for nearly four hours. He had passed the time by looking around at the hundreds of others who, like him, were anxiously waiting to be called. Every half hour or so the voice would make another announcement but he could discern no obvious pattern and therefore could not guess when his time would come.

As the announcement ended the old woman sitting on Ray’s left rose hesitantly, hovered above her seat with knees bent, then just as hesitantly sat back down. She turned to Ray and said, “Would you be a dear and help me, please? I didn’t hear what the man said and I’m worried that I’ve missed my turn?” Ray reckoned her to be about eighty. He thought she looked remarkably well considering the circumstances and wondered what had happened to her to bring her here. She spoke softly in a regional dialect he couldn’t quite place but which he found quite endearing and instantly felt compelled to help her in any way he could.

“There’s an electronic notice board over there. It tells you who’s been called,” Ray said laying his left hand on her forearm and pointing to the notice board with his right.
“I’m afraid I can’t read what it says, my eyesight’s not what it was,” she replied. “I don’t suppose that will matter much now, but still, I don’t want to miss my turn.”

Ray read aloud the red numbers and words. “It’s the twenty-first of October, two thousand and seven, three forty-three post-meridian. Let me see your voucher.” Ray took the card she held out to him. He glanced at the liver-spotted skin draped almost transparent over her bony hand. “At least eighty

They had called it a voucher at Clearing Stage One but to Ray it looked more like a credit card, complete with a hologram of a unicorn which seemed to gallop even when he kept the card perfectly still in his hand. Ray smiled. “Is the hologram there to prevent fraud?” he wondered. “Why would anyone want to try that here?”

“Is it me then?” she asked.
“No, I’m afraid not,” he replied. “Sorry.” She sighed.
“Oh well, I don’t suppose there’s really any rush, is there?”
“I guess you’re right,” Ray said, sighing himself. Ray understood her impatience. Even though the previous four hours had passed relatively quickly he could feel the tension. It fairly bristled. It was in the faces of everyone around him.

“TWENTIETH MARCH, TWO THOUSAND AND SEVEN, EIGHT ZERO FIVE, POST-MERIDIAN”

The voice boomed out again startling the old woman.
“Oh dear,” she wheezed placing a hand on her chest. “I wasn’t expecting that again so soon after the last one.”
“That was a a bit quick,” thought Ray.
“Is it me this time?” she asked holding out her card for him to look at again.
“No,” Ray answered without even glancing at it.
“Oh well, we live in hope,” she replied.

Ray laughed. He turned to look at the old lady but she seemed oblivious to her own humor.
“I wonder whose turn it is now,” she said looking around her.
“It’s mine,” Ray replied. She turned as fast as her ageing muscles allowed and stared.
“It’s you? Then why aren’t you getting up,” she said, a little too shrilly for Ray’s liking.
“I’m scared.”
“Oh, you dear boy. I know what you mean, I’m scared too. What do you think’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know but I expect we’ll find out soon enough.” Mustering every ounce of willpower, Ray hauled himself to his feet.
“Do you think we’ll see each other again?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but if we do, be sure to say hello.”
“I will. Good luck.”
“You too.”

The old lady got up unsteadily and turned her left cheek towards Ray as if to receive a kiss. It was the side of her face that had been hidden from him. As she turned he saw that part of it was missing and in it’s place was a gaping wound which exposed a white cheekbone and a row of yellowing teeth. Ray recoiled and staggered backwards almost losing his footing. He regained his balance and, turning, hurried away without looking back. Now he knew why she was here.

Ray quickly got into step with the hundreds of others who had risen as the latest announcement was made. He made his way towards the vast row of booths a few hundred feet ahead of him across the white-tiled concourse. This part of the process had been explained to him at Clearing Stage Two and yet knowing the procedure did nothing to assuage the dread and apprehension he felt which manifested as a vice-like grip in his lower abdomen.

He reached one of the dozens of control points some thirty feet in front of the line of booths. It had a security swipe device mounted on it facing him. As he’d been instructed at Clearing Stage Two, he swiped his voucher card making sure the magnetic strip was pointing to the left. Looking left and right, he scanned the electronic displays above the booths until, eventually, he saw his name in red, luminous letters above a booth a few yards to his right.

He had watched this procedure for almost four hours marvelling at how efficient the whole process seemed to be with almost no-one having to root around looking for their allocated booth. Now he was experiencing that efficiency at first hand.

Ray hurried over to the booth where his name was displayed. It reminded him of the interview booths in the Department of Social Security he’d attended periodically after graduating from university when his degree in Medieval Literature failed to win him gainful employment. This booth was furnished with one white chair on his side of a white table. On the other side sat a man and woman dressed in white. Ray thought, “What are the chances they’re sitting on white chairs?”

Ray stood and waited. Sensing his apprehension they smiled warmly and the woman motioned for him to sit down with a graceful sweep of her left hand.
“Mr. Mackenzie?” the man enquired. It sounded to Ray more of a statement than a question.
“Yes,” he replied, frowning at how nervous his own voice sounded.
“Mr. Raymond Mackenzie?”
“Yes.”

Ray was suddenly very uneasy. He understood that these people were in positions of authority and must be shown respect. He knew they had the power to decide his future and he wanted to make the best possible impression. The man’s eyes bore into Ray’s but despite their searching gaze they radiated the most profound kindness.
“How are you feeling, Ray?” he asked. Ray was grateful he’d addressed him by his first name, it settled him slightly but not enough to make him relax.
“To tell you the truth, I’m rather nervous,” Ray said. “I’ve never done this before. Obviously.” He added the “obviously” to show the man he wasn’t a complete fool.
“We can understand your nervousness. This can be a rather traumatic process for some people but I’m afraid we can’t tell you not to worry because we do not want to create an expectation we can’t fulfill. However, try to relax and we’ll endeavor to make the process as stress-free as possible.” It was now that Ray realised just how much he had riding on this little ‘interview’.
“I’ll do my best,” Ray said hoping his best would be enough. They nodded and smiled. Ray continued, “I’m sorry but you have an advantage over me, I don’t know your names.”
“Actually, we have quite a number of advantages over you,” the man said. “But forgive us our manners, I’m John.”
“Not the John?” Ray asked.
“No, not the John, although I don’t like to consider myself as the poor relation.”
“I’m Mary, and before you ask, no I’m not.”

Ray stared at her. For the first time he considered her closely. She was, in anyone’s language, stunning. Her eyes were an almost pupil-less black and they smiled even when her mouth didn’t. She owned a strong, perfectly straight nose and full, pink lips that Ray thought Angelina Jolie would have been proud of. They were moist and glistening as if  she had applied a layer of lip gloss just prior to his arrival. He was disconcerted to experience carnal thoughts entering his mind and he quickly looked away, worried that she would sense them like dogs sensed fear in humans.

“Let’s get down to business,” John said matter-of-factly. “It’s Mr. Raymond Ward Mackenzie?”
“That’s right.”
“Can I have your voucher, please?”
Ray pushed the plastic card across the desk leaving it there for John to pick up. John produced a tiny pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from under the folds of his white gown and placed them on the bridge of his nose. Lifting the card, he flipped it over and then back again before looking at Ray over the top of his glasses.

            “Mackenzie, Ray Ward,” John said. Ray was about to reply thinking it was a question when John spoke again. “Born March twentieth, nineteen sixty-one. The serial number is: one, four, forward slash, zero, nine, forward slash, two, zero, zero, six, dot, UK. Registration code is March twentieth, two thousand and seven, eight-zero-five post meridian.” As John read out the letters and numbers on Ray’s voucher, Mary examined the inside cover of a large leather-bound book sitting in front of her on the desk.
“Everything is in order,” she confirmed.
“Happy birthday, Ray,” John chirped, without a trace of irony.
“Cheers!” Ray replied with the sarcasm that John’s salutation had lacked.
“So we have the right man then?”
“I guess so.”
“I’m sorry about these formalities but these checks and balances are critical. Mistakes don’t happen very often here but you can’t be too careful, especially in our line of work.” Ray thought about this for a moment and realised John was probably right.

“I presume,” John continued. “that the procedure was explained to you at the first two clearing stages?”
“Yeah, I suppose, but I’m still a bit confused. Could you go over it again, if you’ve got the time that is?”
“We have an eternity ...... literally,” John said. Ray offered John a wan smile. John continued, “Let me explain how it works. We know your life story. We have it here, in this book.” With a vague sweep of his right hand he gestured towards the tome sitting on the desk. “It’s all in there. Every word you’ve uttered, every tear you’ve cried, every act and omission, every positive influence you’ve had on your world and those around you, and every negative one. In the words of the great Sergio Leone – who, incidentally, came through this very Clearing Hall in ......... – we have ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. And now, it’s decision time.”

John paused as if to let the brevity of the situation sink in. Ray looked from John to Mary and back to John.
“So, if you have it all in there,” Ray said, nodding towards the book. “Have you made your decision.?”
“Not exactly,” said Mary.
“What do you mean, not exactly?”
“We have made a provisional decision,” she replied. “But we need to hear your side of your story.”
“My side of the story? But surely that’s my side of the story,” Ray replied pointing to the book. “Why is all this necessary if it’s in there?”

Mary turned to look at John as if for moral support.
“Well, Ray, the reason is ....... you’re a borderline case,” said John.
Ray went white. “You mean, I might be going ...... down there,” he said pointing to the white-tiled floor.
“It’s entirely possible, that’s why we need to hear what you’ve got to say,” said John. “You see, although we have all of the facts, what we don’t have, at least not as explicitly as we would like, are your thoughts, your feelings, your motivation, in short the raison d’etre behind it all.”

Ray thought about this for a moment before he spoke.
“So, basically, you know the whole story but you want me to go over it again?”
“Basically,” said Mary.
“Isn’t that going to take rather a long time?”
“Good question, the answer to which is, yes,” she replied. “For that reason we’ll ask you to restrict yourself to life-changing events.”
“Don’t forget, Ray, we have an eternity to do this, literally,” said John. “We have all the time in the world, but as you saw from the waiting room, there are quite a number of you guys to get through and you just keep coming.”
“Ok, so you want me to describe what I was thinking, how I felt and what my motivation was when I was doing all of the ‘life-changing’ stuff?”
“Just so,” replied John.
“But who decides what’s life-changing and what isn’t?”
“You decide. But if you leave out anything that we consider worthy of review we’ll give you a gentle nudge in that direction.”
“And this will make the difference, you’re not just ticking the boxes?”
“Indeed it will and, no, we’re not just ticking the boxes. We don’t have the need or desire to do any such thing.”
“Suppose I lie to make it look better for me?”

John and Mary exchanged a glance and a wry, almost condescending, smile. Ray felt like a wayward teenager being patronised by parents. John leaned forward resting his forearms on the table. He still smiled but the condescension had gone and in its place was the weary look of someone who’s seen it all before.
“Ray, you could lie to us but it wouldn’t work. Many have come through here before you with the belief that they could paint themselves as paragons of virtue and they all failed miserably. And do you know what? Some of them virtually talked themselves out of a good result, do you know what I’m saying?”

Ray nodded. John continued.
“In any case, that chair you’re sitting in has sensors which detect changes in your heartbeat, body temperature and skin humidity. There are scanners trained on your eyes to detect even the most imperceptible change in pupil dilation. We are measuring every physiological parameter possible short of invasive surgery and blood-letting but, believe me, we’d even go that far if we needed to. The whole area you’re sitting in is a virtual lie-detector. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Ray shifted uneasily. The seat looked to him just like one he’d been on for four hours in the waiting area.
“You’re welcome to try it,” John said. “I wouldn’t recommend it though. We’re largely an understanding and empathetic lot here because simply because we appreciate what you’ve come through in arriving here. But we don’t have the patience of the saints.” John laughed and Mary smiled. While Ray could see the humour, he was in no mood for laughter. John said finally, “So let’s just play it right straight down the line, what do you say?”
“Have I any choice?”
“Everyone has choices but I’m afraid, at this stage, yours are limited. Now, if you’re ready, I think we should get ........”
“Excuse me, just one other thing?” Ray interrupted. He thought he heard Mary sigh but couldn’t be sure. When he turned to look at her she gave him an indulgent smile.
“The serial number on my voucher, what was that about?” Mary passed Ray’s voucher to John who turned it over in his right hand.
“Let’s see,” John said as he lifted his rimless glasses and placed them on the edge of his nose. “One, four, forward slash, zero, nine, forward slash, two, zero, zero, six, dot, UK. That means, fourteenth of September, two thousand and six in the United Kingdom.” With raised eyebrows, John look at Ray as if that had explained everything.
“I had already figured that it was a date,” Ray replied trying not to sound sarcastic. “But what’s its relevance?”
“That’s the date you were pre-selected to die.”

Ray’s mouth fell open. He stared at John and then Mary. They remained silent and dispassionate as they let him come to terms with that knowledge. Eventually he found his voice.
“Do you mean to tell me I was chosen to die?” asked Ray. John’s silence was answer enough. “But .... but ... why? Why me and why then?”
“There are any number of reasons you might have been chosen to die at this point in your life,” said John.
“Like what?” Ray replied feeling his temper rising.
“Everyone has a purpose during their time on earth. Anyone who fulfils their purpose has no more need of their earthly existence and so are chosen to die, or to put it another way, are born into the afterlife. Those who have not fulfilled their purpose yet are left on earth to continue to strive towards their destiny. If it becomes apparent that they have strayed so far from their path that they are, in effect, lost in the wilderness, or are simply progressing at an insufficient rate, then they too will be selected to face their mortality. In your case it could be that you strayed too far from your particular path, or maybe you just weren’t learning the lessons you were supposed to learn from all of the ‘life-changing stuff’. Perhaps you failed to make the contributions you were supposed to make towards the lives of others, what do you think?”

Ray struggled to find an answer, or even a question. John left his own question hanging in the air. Ray was finding it difficult to make sense of it all but despite the chaos of his thoughts at that moment, he was able to articulate a question.
“Maybe I fulfilled my life-purpose?”
John exchanged a glance with Mary.
“Do you think you have?” asked John. “Does it feel like you have?”

In that moment Ray experienced real hatred for John. He was still in shocked and remained silent, so John continued, “From my own knowledge of your life story I know that you did not.”

This jolted Ray out of his silence.
“Ok, so I’ve obviously just wandered off the fucking path, right? I’ve failed to learn from my mistakes?” Ray hated the whiney tone of his own voice but could not help himself. “Or are you saying I haven’t done anything good for anyone in my life?”
“Try not to feel too sorry for yourself,” said Mary. “We’re here to help you.” Mary’s interjection distracted Ray from his mounting anger with John.
“But who the hell decides, eh? I mean, who has the right to decide I’m not on the fucking path? Aren’t you allowed any fucking detours? How do you know I hadn’t learned any lessons? Whatever happened to getting a second fucking chance?” Ray was boiling now. “My fucking life’s over and you people picked my name out of a fucking hat!”

Neither John’s nor Mary’s expression changed. They remained calm and waited until Ray’s tirade was over.
“There are a number of people involved in the decision,” John replied casually doing nothing to quench the fire that was raging in Ray. “All very learned and respected figures in their own way.”
“I hate to burst your bubble but they ain’t got my respect right at this moment,” said Ray, wondering what the sensors in his chair were reading now.
“When we’ve finished here you might find you’ve softened your attitude to them somewhat. Most people have to work through a degree of bitterness towards us at this stage. At the very least there is a deep regret. Have you heard of Elisabeth Kubler Ross?”
“Who the fuck’s that, is she one of the learned and respected figures who drew the raffle?” Ray was still burning.
“On Death and Dying?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The Five Stages of Grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. It’s natural to experience each of these stages in sequence when you learn of your own impending death, in fact it’s almost unavoidable. However, you will come to the acceptance stage sooner or later. You have little or no choice I’m afraid.”
“I feel so much better knowing that,” Ray said with heavy sarcasm. “So it’s unavoidable, great. What now?” Ray sighed a sigh of resignation.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” John said in a conciliatory tone. “Just take you time, begin where you want to begin and we’ll guide along the way.” He smiled and Ray felt the tension drop just a little.
“Fine.” Ray looked thoughtful for a few moments. “Can you help me, I just don’t know what to say or where to start?” he asked. Mary opened the book in front of her. Ray noticed that there were little yellow post-it notes sticking out of the pages intermittently  throughout the whole of volume. Mary had opened the book at the first of these.
“Let’s start with 1973,” she said. “You started secondary school but your family  had moved to a new town that summer and you had to leave all of your friends behind.”

Ray took a deep breath and began.
“I was twelve years old. I was shy and didn’t like change so moving town and starting a school where I didn’t know anyone was tough.”
“You were bullied,” John stated.
“Yes.”
“Tell us about it.”
“Well, it started on my first day at secondary school .........”

Nine hours and eighteen minutes later Ray finished his story.
“........ and my biggest regret is not having the chance to tell her how I felt before I .... well, before I died.” Ray squinted at John and Mary through tear-filled eyes. The most important story he’d ever tell was over. He was drained. And now he sat there choking back sobs that threatened to give way to an outpouring of emotion that Ray thought, once started, might not end.
“Ray, we’re not really supposed to do this but, well, I guess it won’t hurt,” said John. “She knew how you felt.”
“What?” he asked wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve.
“She knew. And she felt the same.”
“Thanks,” Ray replied, his voice thick with emotion. “That helps. It helps a lot.”

Ray waited while Mary finished writing notes on a page near the end of the book, notes she’d been writing throughout the entire nine hours or so that he’d been talking. She stopped scribbling and closed the book.
“How do you feel?” asked John.
“I’m shattered,” he replied sighing wearily.
“We’re not surprised,” said Mary.
“Why am I tired and emotional when I’m already dead?”
“Good question,” said Mary. “You’ll find that you retain a number of mortal characteristics for a week or so. You’ll still get tired for a while which is why we had quite a few breaks when you were going through your life story. This is only to be expected, after all you’re transferring from the physical world to the spirit world. It takes time for your spirit and and soul to take over completely. In the meantime, expect to experience sudden outpourings of emotion as you spiritual body rids itself of its earthly baggage.”

Ray slumped in his seat, exhausted. Both Mary and John stood.
“We have to go and consider our decision,” John said.
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Ray asked but there was no energy in his question. He was empty. The adrenaline he’d experienced at the beginning of his narration was long gone and now he just wanted to lay his head down somewhere and sleep.
“This decision is too important for you and for us,” John replied. “I’m sure you want us to get it right?”
“Actually, I just want you to send me to heaven,” Ray replied pointing upwards. “I don’t care if that’s the right decision or the wrong one.”
“That’s as may be, Raymond. But we have to get it right for our sakes. We have our professional reputation to think of.” Ray was about to speak but John cut him off. “We’ll be back to you as soon as we can, in the meantime come with us and we’ll arrange for you to get refreshed and re-energized.” Mary invited Ray to follow them as they turned and passed through a white curtain. Ray followed with heavy legs and an even heavier heart.

Five hours and thirty-five minutes later the three were seated again at the white desk with Ray looking from one to the other. John and Mary were sombre.
“Well?” he asked, his voice trembling. “What’s your decision?”
“Raymond, having heard your story our decision is that you are destined to spend an eternity in ... Heaven!”

Ray jumped out of his seat and threw his hands in the air.
“Oh, thank God!” he shouted.
“Well, not quite,” said John. “He doesn’t get involved at this level.”
“John, I don’t think Raymond was being literal,” Mary said laying her hand on John’s arm.
“Oh. I see.”

Ray hadn’t realised the extent to which the tension had built inside while he waited for the decision. Now it came flooding out and he felt hot, salty tears on his lips and tongue as they coursed down his face. “I can’t believe it, I’m so happy,” he said. “I was so afraid that I was going to ‘You-Know-Where.”

“We’re pleased you’re pleased,” said Mary. “We’re going to hand you over to Brother James for processing to the next stage. It’s unlikely we’ll meet again, so we’ll wish you well for the rest of eternity.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Ray replied. “I mean that. I realise some of the things I’ve done might have seemed a bit .... well, you know. Thanks for seeing my good side.”
“You don’t need to thanks us,” said John. “I mean that sincerely. Enjoy Heaven.”

As they walked away Ray was sure he saw just a look of sadness on Mary’s face as she and John disappeared through the white curtain once more.

Ray sat for a few moments unsure of what to do. He was about to get up and see if he could find someone to tell him when a figure appeared at his side. Ray flinched.

“Raymond Ward Mackenzie?” the man asked.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I believe you’re coming with me? Do you prefer Raymond or Ray?”
“Ray’s fine.”
“Ok, I’ll call you Ray’s fine.” The white-robed man laughed. Ray laughed along. Now he was in the mood to laugh at anything.
“I’m Brother James.”
“Brother James or just James?” Ray asked.
“James’s fine, but don’t steal my joke. We’re all brothers here .... apart from the sisters that is.”
“Right, James it is,” Ray said instantly warming to his escort.”
“How are you feeling?” James asked a grinning Ray.
“Pretty good, all things considered,” he replied. “It’s been a rough few days. I’ve had to come to terms with my death and then finding out I was a borderline case for heaven. For a while there it looked pretty ropey.”

James stared at Ray. His gaze made Ray uneasy.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing,” James replied. He opened his mouth as if to add something but changed his mind.
“What?” Ray pressed him.
“Never mind, come with me.” James led Ray towards a doorway covered by two white curtains.

As they walked Ray took the opportunity to talk to James about some things that he’d been thinking about.
“James, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Ask away.”
“I was really surprised that this place had rooms and chairs and stairs and lifts and  that kind of thing,” said Ray. “I expected clouds and mist and wings and stuff.”
“Common misconception. Probably some guy had a near-death experience and mistook the white light for the real thing. It’s designed like this so that it’s not too big a shock for clients. Let’s face it, you’ve already had the shock of actually dying.”
“I’m not sure I follow?”
“Well, it could be anything. We’ve got design capabilities here like you wouldn’t  believe. It could be clouds and mist and wings and happy, smiley faces but that’s not what it’s like on terra firma, is it? But, by the same token, we don’t want you folks to get the impression that you aren’t dead, so it’s a kind of half-way house, so to speak. Understand?”
“Not really,” Ray replied.
“Don’t worry, you will.”

Brother James and Ray pushed through the curtained doorway and began to climb a spiral staircase with shiny, white walls which were bereft of any decoration or art.
“Is this us on the way up to the pearly gates to meet St. Peter,” asked Ray with a  self-satisfied grin which didn’t go unnoticed by James.
“Look Ray’s fine, I’m going to let you in on a little secret just before you get there. I’m not supposed to talk about these things because, you know, God could send me back to earth as a worm or a cockroach, or worse, a Tory politician. It’s like this. You’ve got it all wrong, and you’re not the only one. Everybody that comes up these stairs automatically thinks the same thing. But The Big Fella has got a great sense of humour. You’ve not been sent up here because you’ve been a good boy. No, you’re going to Heaven because you’ve done something to offend his sensibilities. I don’t want to know the details, that’s for you to know and me to ....... well that’s your own personal business. But, well here goes for the bad news ......... Heaven IS Hell!”
“What do you mean?” Ray uttered, his face ghostly white.
“Just what I said. Heaven is actually Hell and Hell is actually Heaven. It’s the other way about. Arse for tit. Isn’t that priceless? What a sense of humour the Big Man’s got. You should meet him you know, well not that that’s likely where your going.”
“B ....b....but what do you mean,” Ray stuttered, beginning to panic. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand?”
“Heaven’s a fucking nightmare, excuse the French,” James said. “Take it from somebody that knows. Every day’s the same, the same hymns on a loop, played on a Hammond Organ, nothing to do except sit at the feet of some disciple and listen to the same sermon day-in-day-out. The same food at the same time for every meal, I mean, there’s only so much Manna you can stomach. This place is the pits. No, you take it from me, you’ve done something wrong to end up here.”
“I don’t believe you, you’re winding me up. Aren’t you?” Ray was expecting James to crack and when he didn’t he went cold.
“I’m telling you my friend, Heaven really is HELL! The real Heaven is actually down there,” James said pointing in the general direction of his feet.
“What’s down there?”
“Anything your heart desires. Exotic food, beautiful women - or men if that’s what you prefer. Alcohol when you want, great weather, in fact absolutely anything. I’m telling you the truth. And if you don’t want to indulge, you just miss a day or two to get your breath back. It’s fucking paradise.”
“So how do you know so much about it then?”
“I was there,” James said in a conspiratorial tone.
“Yeah, right. You were down there and now you’re up here. A likely story. What did you do? Fuck Satan’s wife?”
“Satan’s a myth, there is no devil. God controls everything, and he makes sure that everyone who’s led a worthy life on earth gets to indulge themselves when they give up the good fight. My story is simple. It was a mix up with the paperwork. It doesn’t happen too often but, there you go, everybody’s human. So I was down there for about six months living in luxury before the mistake was noticed. I was hobnobbing with the rich and famous, the great and the good. And you’ll never believe this ..... I made love to Marilyn Monroe. She was magnificent.” James drifted off for a moment, a starry look in his eyes. “It was worth the two-and-a-half-day queue.”

“So they noticed the mistake, just ignored the fact you fucked Marilyn Monroe and gave you a job as a trustee, eh?”
“The truth is, on the very odd occasion this kind of thing happens, they’re supposed to wipe your memory clean. But just think how cruel that would be. Can you imagine getting laid by Norma Jean and not being able to remember it or tell anyone about it? That would have been cruelty in the extreme. Not even the Big God Man with his warped sense of humour would be that wide. In any case, if the mistake had been reported all hell would have broken loose, if you pardon the underwordly pun. I persuaded the Brothers and Sisters to casually overlook the slip-up, forget the memory-wipe and give me job as an usher for new arrivals and we’d all keep schtoom.”
“Except you’re not exactly keeping schtoom, are you? This had better be a joke Brother.”
“See for yourself, we’re here.”

Ray had arrived at the top of the spiral staircase. He gasped as he looked out at the scene before him. He and James were standing knee-deep in a white cloud bank which stretched as far as the horizon. It reminded him of an ascending aeroplane breaking through the haze and into the sunlight except these clouds were the whitest clouds he’d ever seen. “They’re cliché clouds,” he thought. “They really are like cotton wool.” But what really got him was that other beings had begun to appear in front of him and they were dressed in long, flowing white gowns and had wings, harps and halos. And there in the distance were two of the largest golden gates he could have imagined. They shimmered in the sunlight. Before he could say a word to Brother James he was suddenly right in front of the gates, and he hadn’t even moved a muscle.

“They’re pearly,” Ray said, thinking out loud. He looked down to where his feet were immersed in white cloud. He lifted his right foot but the mist rose at the same time keeping his foot submerged. He jumped up but the clouds jumped to the same height.

“What’s all this? I thought you said it wasn’t like this?” Ray asked James.
“It’s anything you want it to be. You’ve thought this and it has manifested as you’ve imagined it. You’d be amazed at how many like you have brought the same vision to pass. I told you that our powers of design were incredible. We just tapped into your synapses, you know, your brainwaves and we picked up all that stuff you were thinking about wings and halos and things. As we say up here: ‘You got what you thought.’ By the way, look lively, here’s Saint Peter.”

“COME, RAYMOND,” Saint Peter’s voice boomed. The gates opened slowly and noiselessly and, again without twitching a muscle, Ray was moving forward into Heaven. “WELCOME TO THE KINGDOM, RAYMOND. THANK YOU BROTHER JAMES, THAT WILL BE ALL.”
“Right Saint Peter. Ok, Brother Ray, see you some time?” said Brother James with a sympathetic smile. He waved to Ray as he was led away.

As Ray was escorted further into Heaven the faint strains of ‘What A Friend We Have In Jesus’ could be heard being played on a Hammond Organ, faint but getting louder with every passing second. Over the top of the organ music could be heard the sound of screaming. Ray looked at the faces of the many souls that were gathered to welcome him into heaven and realised the screams were his own.

Back to Texts