by T. A. Staver
or, the Angel, and the Demon
By T. A. Staver
Copyright 2012 T. A. Staver
Cover Art Copyright 2012 Julie Staver
The Doctor, the Angel, and the Demon
It was a day like any other...
“Look at those fools, praying on their rosaries! Do they really think that prayer can change the mind of an intelligent, reasonable person? What a bunch of saps! Come on, let’s cross here and go get a coffee.”
“Dr. A’Dowter, look out!”
A loud screech; a flaring pain; screams; darkness.
Some undefinable time later…
Dr. A’Dowter opened his eyes. There was no pain. His surroundings lacked clarity. He couldn’t tell if he was close to or far away from the…wall? Is that what that was? He rubbed his eyes. Things still didn’t come into focus. His hands crept back to his face. No glasses. No wonder he couldn’t see further than the end of his arm. But his hands were very clear. That was strange, considering his terrible eyesight.
“Where am I?” he mumbled to himself.
“Welcome!” a booming voice exclaimed, making him jump. The voice had seemed to be both inside and outside his head, at the same time.
The speaker was a tall, well-proportioned figure. Dr. A’Dowter looked long and hard at him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The tall figure looked at the doctor with surprise. Then, he slowly turned his head and looked at the wings on each shoulder.
“Large, slightly glowing figure; robe; wings; halo over my head: you’re not religious, are you?” the figure asked him.
“Certainly not!” Dr. A’Dowter harrumphed. “None of that mumbo-jumbo for me: I’m a man of science.”
“Yes, I see”, said the figure. “Well, why don’t you call me Peter for the time being.”
“Very well, Peter it is. Now, which hospital are we at? My insurance won’t pay for out-of-network treatment.”
“Hmm, this may take longer than I thought,” Peter muttered to himself. “But, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish.” Peter drew himself up to his full height, and flashed his best smile. “You see Imriy…”
“How did you know that was my name?” the doctor interrupted. “No one has called me that since I was a child. None of my documentation indicates that name. I only use my initials: I for Imriy, M for Michael.”
“I know much about you Imriy Michael. Perhaps more than you know yourself.”
“I’m beginning to suspect this is a case of identity theft. Please direct me to a phone, so that I may contact the authorities,” the doctor demanded.
Peter stopped and looked at the doctor with narrowed eyes. “Imriy, do you know where you are?” he slowly asked.
“Why yes, I am at, well, whatever hospital I have been taken to following my accident,” said the doctor.
St. Peter gently shook his head. “No Imriy, you are in the afterlife. You are dead.” He looked carefully at the doctor. This was the worst time with these cases.
“That’s quite impossible,” Imriy stated with elaborate care. “When one dies, that’s it: nothing else. The body shuts down, the brain dies, and there is eternal nothingness. Please don’t try to indoctrinate me into one of your cults. I have two PhD’s and have written articles in twenty three journals. You’ll not find me to be one of those weak-minded God-people!” Imriy shook his finger in righteous indignation.
“Oh my, how do I start to explain this?” Peter sighed. “You don’t mind if I call my supervisor, do you?”
“Excellent idea; I was just about to suggest that very thing.” The doctor scowled. As he turned to look again at the confusing optical-illusion of the wall, he nearly bumped into another tall, robed figure. “Oh, excuse me,” he said to the newcomer.
“That’s quite alright. You called Pete?” the newcomer asked over the doctor’s head.
“Hi, Gabe. This is Dr. Imriy Michael A’Dowter. He’s having a difficult time with the whole ‘afterlife’ thing. Can you give us the benefit of your expertise?” asked St. Peter.
“Certainly. In the meantime, would you please check in with Teresa, see if she needs any help? She’s working with the deserving souls who are transitioning to Triumphant. What a wonderful thing, to be there when a soul is admitted to heaven! I should go there more often than I do: it’s so uplifting to the spirit.”
“Thanks, Gabe! I haven’t been there in a millennium myself. This will be fun!”
By the time Dr. A’Dowter turned to watch Peter leave, he was already gone. “People certainly move quickly in this hospital,” he mumbled to himself.
Gabe looked at Dr. A’Dowter with kind eyes. “So Doctor, it seems it’s just the two of us. Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the place?”
“I doubt that will be necessary. I don’t plan on staying any longer than needs be,” said the doctor.
“Well, let’s humor me and let me show you around,” said Gabe. “By the way, how would you like to be addressed? Would you prefer Doctor, Imriy, or maybe something else?”
“Actually, I’ve always been partial to my middle name: Michael.” The doctor looked sheepish. “I always thought it seemed pretentious to use my middle name instead of my first name. Later in life, I thought Michael sounded…pedestrian for a professor. Dropping my first name and using my initials sounded more dignified.”
Gabe beamed. “Excellent! I have a very good friend named Michael. He will be very proud that you chose that name to go by. So Michael, let’s get started on our tour. This way, please.”
As Michael turned to go in the direction indicated, he heard a sound like a grumbling mutter, the sound of a large group of people, moaning and groaning in pain. Stopping to locate the sound, he was startled to see individuals. The more he looked, the more he saw.
“What’s going on here?” Michael demanded. “Have I suffered a serious head injury? Why didn’t I see or hear these poor people until just this minute? We’ve been chatting for some time. I should have been aware of this,” he swept his arm in a large arc, “from the time I regained consciousness. I warn you, if there is any indication of malpractice, I shall contact my lawyer!”
Gabe looked sympathetically at Michael. “I am trying to show you that you are no longer in the plane of existence you once were. It is a lot to take in.” Gabe grinned. “By the way, you won’t find any practicing lawyers here. We live by a mere ten rules. They work awfully well.”
Michael continued to look about him at the growing number of people. He hadn’t seen a single person while first talking to Peter and then Gabe. Now all he could see were crowds and crowds of people, everyone looking anguished.
Michael was shaken. He slowly turned, looking at the walls that weren’t walls; at the people who were too numerous to see, yet he saw; at the wings on the back of the gentle man guiding him; at the luminous halo circling Gabe’s head. He looked at Gabe with eyes begging for an answer he could understand.
“I’ve spent my entire life believing in science, in what I could see, feel, or prove. Heaven, hell, the afterlife: it’s nothing but stories told to the ignorant to pacify them! I can’t believe something I can’t prove!”
Gabe placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Just because you don’t believe something doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he said. “Believing something you can’t prove has a name: it’s called Faith. It takes quite a bit of personal courage to have faith. It goes against everything you are told in the secular world. Most of the time, it goes against what would seem to be common sense. But that is the powerful part of faith: it doesn’t always make sense, but in your heart it feels right.”
Michael looked at Gabe with tears welling in his eyes. “Am I rea
lly dead?” he asked.
“Michael, Michael.” Gabe gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “If you consider casting off your earthly body for a heavenly one as dying, then yes, you are dead. But if you look at it as continuing in your journey towards God, then you have only taken another step, started on another level of learning and experience.” Gabe smiled. “What does your heart tell you the correct answer is?”
Michael wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Robe? Where did that come from? “I think my beliefs may have been incorrect. New data has forced me to rethink my position on a great many things.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps later we can talk about faith.”
Gabe gave a final squeeze to Michael’s shoulder. “I would like that very much.”
Michael cleared his throat one more time. “What about these poor souls all about us? Are they in pain? Their anguish is most disturbing.”
Gabe lost his cheerful smile. “Soul is the correct term, Michael. This is the largest area in the afterlife. These are the souls of all the individuals who
