Long Live Death: Welcome To The Afterlife

by Mercott, Joshua

  16

  This afterlife city comprised many quadrants, so many I couldn’t list them by name over the top of my head. The dimension was vast indeed but had its limits. We were all life-forms in the Orion star-system and as such there were about seventy-three civilized ones in this galaxy alone. All of them had their own quadrants, sizes varying. The events of Moo-Day couldn’t possibly be held in each because that would mean seventy-three events and as exciting as it may sound business, like a show, had to go on. A select few quadrants were chosen and others would be selected for the tenth month of the year, because that was the next consecutive fifth-month.

  Of the few chosen quadrants for this year’s events, we were all headed to attend the final one in the largest most isolated quadrant of them all. The inhabitants were quite reclusive and everyone preferred them that way. They partook of nothing in Quadrant City. They grew their own food and had their own wharf with royal sanctions for things they needed. Nobody ever sees them except on the fifth month and every other fifth month, and when they appear they intimidate.

  I was sort of afraid to even speak about them. They used to live among entities I would have called gods and goddesses. I remember in my first month here when I was with a group of other fresh souls being taught their duties. No matter our future rank, we were all together and on the same level in that first month. I heard talk about this race back then.

  People called them Crystal-Bloods. They said these angelic beings were more beautiful than the Von Heisens themselves. I found that hard to believe but then again I was yet to lay eyes on one. They were also, if memory serves, the only life-form that Lady Life didn’t charge interest on. She waited for them to be reincarnated, like she waited for everyone else in the city. The Crystal-Bloods were close to her. After all, they had lived in the same place as she, the Elder Realm. But whenever Life came to Quadrant nobody ever saw her fly over to the Fallen Lands, the place where the grace-lost angelic beings lived.

  They had found a way to take their own lives. For some weird reason their immortality couldn’t be tricked. It healed back, their crystal-fluids took care of that possibility. But there were dark and dishonorable ways for an angelic being to commit the act and the hundreds of them living in the Fallen Lands chose that path. They were forever banished from the Realm and at reincarnation time, they were given the ability to choose any life-system in the Orion chain to be reborn into. They were never welcome back home for the forseeable eternity.

  The Crystal-Bloods have contributed plenty to Quadrant City over the centuries. Tonight, one of their most celebrated talents was going to be shared with the rest of the citizenry. They played a sport in the Elder Realm called Featherball. According to what I heard and read, the Elders took precisely fifty-eight years to decide on allowing or refusing the game in Quadrant. King Death couldn’t care less, but the fallen Crystal-Bloods asked for one last pity-favor and the Elders eventually granted it. Ever since then the game has become the number one sport in Quadrant and only the angelic beings played it, with several different teams organized from within their numbers who’d trained and practiced until they had made a justifiable art of the sport.

  Quadrant’s citizens found their places in the stadium. Once again, the seating was similar to how it was arranged for other events. Whoever paid could sit in the stadium itself while everyone else could see the live telecast on screens all across the city and those broadcasted to their homes, on the one channel available where they played government sanctioned shows and news. The cameras were rolling when Death entered the stadium followed by his tentative entourage of courtiers. We were awed by the place. Not only was it designed after something a human like me would recognize as a football stadium it was three times the size of the Bull-a-Rena, making it possible for close to a million, slightly more, to be accommodated. I couldn’t see the end of the stadium, it was that big, and the green expanse of field complimented the silver seats. Death, keeping to tradition, flew up and occupied a thickset throne right at the very top in a most unusual place but one that afforded the most sublime view of the game.

  I walked with the courtiers to find my reserved seat in the luxury balcony. If the view from in here was this good, I couldn’t imagine what an awesome time the King is going to have. People had already been seated before Death walked through the arch so there’d be no delays in starting. The stadium hugged the boundary of the Human Quadrant. I had seen it before but only from afar. When I’d first laid eyes on it I took it to be a glorified deterrent. ‘No entry into Fallen Lands’, it seemed to say. It was a giant of an edifice and my work kept me away from going closer to feel its fine walls and magnificent architecture. Beyond the Featherball Stadium was an imposing bridge that ran over a vast river and connected its other end to Crystal-Blood City where the angelic beings who’d taken their own lives resided.

  The band had a special nook all to themselves. By special, I mean immense. The Von Heisens sent their family musicians to add rhythm to this event. They didn’t like to be refused when King Death stamped denied when they’d written to perform at the concert. I didn’t see the requisition sheet, that was another department’s burden, but I spoke to one of the courtiers in that section and he told me. They’d first asked to play solo, the only band for the concert. The King denied them, said he wanted variety for the people. They said they’ll perform after the chosen band went off stage. The King denied them again, said they had already taken up a lot of events for the day and to let someone else have the limelight for a change. It hit their egos but then again they couldn’t refuse the King. So here they were, perfectly calm and composed and ready to do their thing. From how well they carried themselves I could tell how humiliated they felt. The Press and the people caught these little details and were already talking about it. For once, I think the Von Heisens wished they didn’t have vampire-hearing.

  The stadium droned like an angry hive of bees. The people whispered softly but when their voices rose to become one big buzz in an acoustics-friendly zone like this, they became loud . The megaphones whistled, the screens came alive with high-definition pictures and the little word ‘live’ on the top corner let us know that what we were seeing on the monitor was simultaneously happening in reality. They never showed the announcer’s face, not even back during the bullfight. His voice came over the speakers and the whole city went silent as they listened.

  “His Majesty the King. Ladies and gentlemen. Life-forms of all systems. We have come at last to our final event.” The man still had that showy voice. “As Moo-Day waits to greet the closing curtains, we celebrate all that today stands for with one final celebration in the form of a game, the god of all games.” His voice rose and fell in all the right places. “Following this, the King will give his traditional end-day speech and we shall witness the closing ritual. But for now...” His dramatic pauses and lilts kept us on the cliff of excitement. “I give you, Featherball!”

  3D light-play heralded the ball as it rose on a glass-encased pedestal at the center of the stadium. The projected images around it gave the ball wings, threw stars and fire to hail its coming and added elegant filigreed swirls drawn, it seemed, by the wind’s own fingers. People clapped and praised. They grinned and smiled.

  “Almost all of us have been to a game of Featherball before, which leaves us with the newbies who joined our Quadrant community this year.” Claps went up. “Special welcome to one of our newcomers whom His Majesty has included in the courtier ranks. May we have a round of applause for Reincarnator Helidon!” Claps, cheers and whistles. I was stupefied to hear my title then my name and see my face on citywide television. I smiled and waved. I looked like a doofus. Was that really how my smile curved? Oh my, that hairstyle, what was I thinking. I angled my head down so my nose didn’t look that big. Take the camera off me already. As if they’d heard my psychic plea, the cameras shifted. “His Majesty King Death suggested that the match be initiated by our beloved Reincarnator himself. Come on down to the field, R
eincarnator Helidon.”

  Strange ladders bent and twisted toward the courtiers’ balcony and each rung turned a flat face up to the sky. The makeshift stairs beckoned. Bulky life-forms on the ground several feet below held the step-ladder steady. They even brought out a bouncy blanket to catch me if I fell. This was getting insane. I didn’t want to do this. I don’t like heights. I looked at the King and he spread his bladed wings at me. I’d best get a move on. I took careful steps, gripped the side rails like my afterlife depended on it and managed to make it to the grassy ground in one piece. I breathed a sigh of relief. The tension was obvious on my face, but nobody laughed they merely humored me. A small vehicle waited for me and I got in. It hummed its way to the center, a whole seven minutes. During my trip, the announcer continued.

  “For those who are unaware of the way the game is played, let me share an outline so you can better enjoy Featherball in all its glory. Two opposing teams face off to score goals. The ground is one field they can use but the main portion of the game is played in the air. We all know Crystal-Bloods’ ability to fly on those magnificent wings, and they use it to great effect in the air. Our Featherball contains an electro-gyro core that keeps it suspended when above ground, letting it move as it would if it were on grassy fields. But gravity drawns it back to the ground, albeit slowly, so the teams have enough time to decide whether to hand it to their ground forces or keep it in the air. During the game, the ball will be referred to interchangeably as the ‘Heart’ or ‘Featherball’. As long as their wings are spread, a Crystal-Blood is considered to be ‘Evangelium’ or mid air and gameplay proceeds with kicking and heading, no hands involved. Once the ball lands on the ground and becomes ‘Terrestrium’, the team that chooses to play on terra firma can no longer kick or head but must carry the ball in hand and perform passes by throwing it to fellow ground players. A kick from the ground is permitted only in the event that the ball is going back into the air.

  “When you hear the word ‘Enders’, turn your eyes to the goals. Once past the demarcation line surrounding each goal, players will only be allowed to kick the ball to each other and score using the same technique, all in the air. No hands, not even heading and no backdoor delivery to a player outside the line. The goal is either scored or prevented by the enemy team. The Enders float thirty feet above the stadium ground. When the players cross into the ‘Kill Zone’, they kick the Heart up and up until they have gained the required thirty feet. Pass kicks are made to evade the two goal-keeps covering the entrance faces, one securing north and the other safeguarding south.

  “However, my eager Featherball aficionados, there is a moment in the middle of the game when the ball enters ‘Favor Phase’. The electro-gyro core inside the Featherball is programmed to recognize this phase and change directions mid air using a vapor-propellant system built inside the ball. It’s a completely random code and nobody, not even the Crystal-Blood engineers who made the thing, can say when the Heart will enter Favor Phase. Happening only once throughout the match, the ball chooses to go to any player, no matter their team and no matter where they’re positioned in the field at the time.

  “In the past, most of us have seen three types of teams play in this legendary stadium. We have seen all-male teams called Alphas, all-female teams called Omegas and uni-blood teams of Crystal-Bloods called Deltas. Both teams chosen for a playoff should have the same team-types, no exceptions. Tonight we have our favorite: a uni-blood team, comprising champion Featherballers comprising male and female Crystal-Bloods.

  “I see our Reincarnator has made it to the center. He will now perform the ceremonial Hammer Slam where he shall use a mallet to hit the mark and send the Heart vertically up into the air, officially starting the match. Captains from each team will be ready to kick off. Are you ready, Helidon?”

  The crowd chanted my name and started clapping. It felt humbling, to be honest. All through his narration of the game, the band played apt music. Now they changed tempo to suit a more strained moment. The music more than anything else made me uneasy. I had this second chance to make a complete fool of myself in front of all these life-forms.

  A large burgundy case was opened. A small platform came out of the pedestal carrying the ball. The glass case split and disappeared, leaving the ball open to the elements. As soon as I was handed the mallet from inside the case, silent forms shot like bullets through the dark air. People pointed, shouted, screamed and applauded. The music picked up pace and so did my heart, not the ball the one inside my rib cage. Tall brilliant bodies descended on perfect wings into the stadium lights and were bathed in marvelous splendor.

  The sight of the Crystal-Bloods made my knees go weak. They were indescribably beautiful and so perfect in every way that they first intimidated then inspired. Their uniforms were light and airy, and streamlined to faciliate gameplay. The captains were above me, several feet up. Their wings moved up and down to keep their owners afloat but I couldn’t hear any flapping; those wings were wide enough to make a swoosh.

  “Helidon!” I knew that shout, that voice. It was the only one that could cut through my soul. His Majesty leaned forward in his chair. Relying on sheer instinct, I shoved the mallet up in the air and lost my grip. I saw it twirl thrice before I managed to catch it wide eyed and bring it down hard on the tiny bell-like fixture at the pedestal’s base.

  The Heart shot up into the air. The music elevated, the crowds cheered so loudly I thought I’d go deaf, and the showy announcer yelled “Feathers are flying!” and it was all I could do to get back into the car and be driven back to my seat. I took the stairs adjoining the balcony. I couldn’t have climbed that crazy step ladder even if I wanted to.

  Two beautiful voices came across the speakers. The announcer introduced them to the people, especially to those of us who didn’t know such elegant tones could exist in speech. “Over to you, Bella Wordel and Baradon Wells.” The commentators kept the whole thing rolling from there. Bella, she had an eye for detail and wordplay. Baradon, he came ready to catch the technicalities and individual player styles. The music had stopped. My eyes were glued to the skies, to the ground when the ball landed, to the cameras when I couldn’t see something clearly. This was one of the few most riveting experiences of my afterlife.

  The teams chosen for today’s event were from the Fallen districts of Gerta and Mesk. The former was represented with red paint and white highlights, a whole section of Crystal-Blood fans screaming their good-looking heads off. The latter was magenta with purple highlights and their fan section tried to outdo the rival team’s. The match-up of Gerta vs. Mesk was thrilling with several high points, a few foul plays that got a bit aggressive and a stadium-shattering roar of victory as Mesk owned Gerta with one single goal scored in the last twenty seconds of the playoff. The score was sixty-two, sixty-one. King Death handed Gerta the championship cup and medals were handed out for ‘best play’, ‘most assists’, ‘fastest in game’ and ‘most scored’.

  17

  The showy announcer took over and brought the stadium to silence. He spoke in hushed tones. “We will presently begin our concluding ritual for Moo-Day. His Majesty now calls upon his Reincarnator,” at this point I was already waiting on the sidelines and getting into the motor cart, “who is making his way to the center. In his hands is the file containing approval papers for King Death. The fortunate few who get selected will, without undue delay, be reincarnated by the effervescent Lady Life.”

  I got out of the cart seven minutes later and bowed before His Majesty. He stretched his strange hand out and I offered him the file. He took only a few seconds to go through the fifty papers I had inside. He worked slowly to add drama to the moment, as was tradition. I recognized a wing-twitch and the way his skin shook only in one spot on his right bicep and then became even again. He was not happy. He handed me the file and made his way toward the microphone standing to the far left.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the announcer in a soft voice. “Life-forms of all sys
tems. Kindly stand for His Majesty’s Moo-Day address.”

  “Did everyone have a good time?” asked the King. People shouted in apporoval and assent. They clapped and cheered and the chant rang out, ‘Long live the King, long live the King’. They were happy and he knew it. “I’m sure most of you don’t know why we celebrate the fifth month of the year and every other fifth month that follows. I started this festival series many millennia ago when the first life-forms in all the galaxies started to grow, evolve and better themselves as a race. I found myself out of a job one day. I pegged it down to an anomaly of the space-time continuum and how they mathematically overlap with the probability of leaving vacuum voids where no continuums overlap at all. But I forgot to factor Time into my equations. Time works in a mysterious way. The first day of the fifth month of any solar calendrical year is the day when absolutely no death takes place anywhere in any of the galaxies, Orion and otherwise. On these and every fifth month that follows in the same calendrical year, there are no deaths by murder, plague, accident, natural or even suicide. Not that there was an abundance of life for that matter. It was a mere neutral moment in Time’s flow. To commemorate this unique and interesting day, every afterlife dimension that I rule over celebrates it. All who are dead join with their King to remember a day when death doesn’t exist.” People clapped and kept clapping.

  “But a King must, within reason, be candid with his people. Quadrant City should never have existed.” Gasps in the stadium crowd. “If a suicide soul left its body, it would go into limbo. Essentially a battery, of sorts, where the soul’s every last shred of energy is extracted and used for varied purposes. The Pure Efflesia Bank with its headquarters in the Elder Realm regulates this suicide soul energy. Those of you who have spent time in our city’s library will have learned of this through either the written word or projected image. Millennia ago, I met with the Elders in a special creative convention where they were debating whether or not to approve my proposal to create a sub-dimension where all the suicide souls of a galaxy—in your case, Orion—can go after death. They would spend their lives under my rule and as they live, the universe does what it does by way of using your energy to fuel the Grand Program, the greatest of them all. It takes energy to fuel everything in existence using everyone’s very existence: birth, movement, thought, action, life, death, afterlife, and reincarnation.” He gave the citizens a moment to think. There was no chatter anywhere, just personal assessment. “I created a place for you to live, love, grow and change. Eventually when you have overcome the burden in your soul that led you to take your own lives, you’d be reincarnated as seen fit and continue to propagate the functions of the Universe.