Lining up for Judgement Part 1
Jul. 7th, 2009 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chiaki777We never get to say who we want to be, God is too much of a control freak to let us pick and choose what we will ultimately become. If we did, we'd all be action heroes, lawyers and doctors. Imagine a world like that, we'd have people getting injured every which way with doctors patching victims up and then getting sued for malpractice.
I'd have been an action hero.
I wasn't one though, and these last thoughts made me wish I were one: heroes don't die halfway into their story, much less the very beginning. All I heard was the horn of my car blasting as my head rested on the steering wheel. The sound started to grow distant, and before I knew it, I was standing in this long line.
I hate lines.
I bet I'm in hell for people that hate lines. I'm going to be in this line for eternity, and the second I step out of it, I'll be sent to the back of the line. That would be just the sick kind of punishment I'd expect for myself if I was in hell. What was it? Was it because I drove too fast? Was it my machismo sexism? No, this is a hell for people who hate lines: it had to be because I cut in the lunch lines too many times. That had to be it. This sucks.
The line keeps moving forward though, at least I'm getting somewhere. I just wish I knew where. Everything around me is pretty dark save for that point of light ahead of me. The people around me seemed normal enough, some looked a bit more well off than others, but really, nothing too strange besides the fact we're all just trudging forward. What was that saying again? Don't walk towards the li-
OH SHIT, WHY AM I WALKING TOWARDS THE LIGHT. I had to say that aloud. The people around me looked at me and the line stopped for the moment. I looked around and then back, the line of people seemed infinite, but I had to turn around.
"Why am I in this godforsaken line? I'm just heading towards my own destruction!"
The people around me remained silent. Then, a voice:
"Godforsaken, that's funny."
A voice came out of somewhere. I couldn't tell where.
"I'll let you know, this line is approved by the big guy himself. It's the most efficient way to do things around here." The voice paused, as if waiting for an apology. "Do you know how many people die these days? You're not the only person that died this century, or even today. People think you can just go onto your afterlife without review. It's always 'me me me.' I'll tell you, we're limited on staff already, and then you have an epidemic of botulism here, a volcanic eruption there, and then you're swamped with work that's not going to get done unless we work overtime. Complaining isn't going to speed anything up."
I looked around, still no sign of the owner of the voice. "So how long is this going to take?" I asked.
"We're finishing up World War II right now...."
"That was more than 60 years ago!" I raised my fist in the air, shaking it at the abyss.
"A lot of people died!" I could tell the voice was beginning to get ticked.
Who was this guy anyway? afterlife tech-support?
"Look we'll put some music on for you to help pass the time." Muzak began to play around us.
Oh god, he is tech support isn't he? This has to be hell. There's no doubt about it. What did I do to deserve this? Cutting in lunch lines wouldn't have deserved something this horrible.
"Hey, feel lucky you even get music. If I weren't here, you'd have been talking to yourself for the next 200 years or so."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for someone that recently died - orders from the top. I need to bring someone up to the front, a VIP."
Seems like even the afterlife has some kind of bias towards the important people. "All equal under the eyes of God" my ass. I looked around to see if whoever was important enough was near me. I got ready to spit on anyone that was going to go past me. The lack of any ample light though, made it hard for me to see if I was aiming the right way. I felt someone standing by me, well, by me out of the line. I got ready to spit.
"Aha!" It was that voice; he was next to me. "Let me get a better look at you."
A light snapped on above me and I saw was in front of me. The man wore a simple white robe; he wore spectacles and was balding at the top. There was a name tag on the robe: "Roy." Roy had a big leather bound book with him. He pulled out a photographed and looked at it in the light, then to me. He looked back and forth a few times and then placed the photo back in the book. He pulled out a feather wedged between the book and started scribbling something in the old book.
"Found'em, taking to the front... of... the... line."
"What me?!" I pointed to myself and looked at him. "Why me?"
"Come along."
He took my hand and dragged me out of the line. I heard some grumbling as someone in the line spat on me; a moment later, I felt it.
I'd have been an action hero.
I wasn't one though, and these last thoughts made me wish I were one: heroes don't die halfway into their story, much less the very beginning. All I heard was the horn of my car blasting as my head rested on the steering wheel. The sound started to grow distant, and before I knew it, I was standing in this long line.
I hate lines.
I bet I'm in hell for people that hate lines. I'm going to be in this line for eternity, and the second I step out of it, I'll be sent to the back of the line. That would be just the sick kind of punishment I'd expect for myself if I was in hell. What was it? Was it because I drove too fast? Was it my machismo sexism? No, this is a hell for people who hate lines: it had to be because I cut in the lunch lines too many times. That had to be it. This sucks.
The line keeps moving forward though, at least I'm getting somewhere. I just wish I knew where. Everything around me is pretty dark save for that point of light ahead of me. The people around me seemed normal enough, some looked a bit more well off than others, but really, nothing too strange besides the fact we're all just trudging forward. What was that saying again? Don't walk towards the li-
OH SHIT, WHY AM I WALKING TOWARDS THE LIGHT. I had to say that aloud. The people around me looked at me and the line stopped for the moment. I looked around and then back, the line of people seemed infinite, but I had to turn around.
"Why am I in this godforsaken line? I'm just heading towards my own destruction!"
The people around me remained silent. Then, a voice:
"Godforsaken, that's funny."
A voice came out of somewhere. I couldn't tell where.
"I'll let you know, this line is approved by the big guy himself. It's the most efficient way to do things around here." The voice paused, as if waiting for an apology. "Do you know how many people die these days? You're not the only person that died this century, or even today. People think you can just go onto your afterlife without review. It's always 'me me me.' I'll tell you, we're limited on staff already, and then you have an epidemic of botulism here, a volcanic eruption there, and then you're swamped with work that's not going to get done unless we work overtime. Complaining isn't going to speed anything up."
I looked around, still no sign of the owner of the voice. "So how long is this going to take?" I asked.
"We're finishing up World War II right now...."
"That was more than 60 years ago!" I raised my fist in the air, shaking it at the abyss.
"A lot of people died!" I could tell the voice was beginning to get ticked.
Who was this guy anyway? afterlife tech-support?
"Look we'll put some music on for you to help pass the time." Muzak began to play around us.
Oh god, he is tech support isn't he? This has to be hell. There's no doubt about it. What did I do to deserve this? Cutting in lunch lines wouldn't have deserved something this horrible.
"Hey, feel lucky you even get music. If I weren't here, you'd have been talking to yourself for the next 200 years or so."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for someone that recently died - orders from the top. I need to bring someone up to the front, a VIP."
Seems like even the afterlife has some kind of bias towards the important people. "All equal under the eyes of God" my ass. I looked around to see if whoever was important enough was near me. I got ready to spit on anyone that was going to go past me. The lack of any ample light though, made it hard for me to see if I was aiming the right way. I felt someone standing by me, well, by me out of the line. I got ready to spit.
"Aha!" It was that voice; he was next to me. "Let me get a better look at you."
A light snapped on above me and I saw was in front of me. The man wore a simple white robe; he wore spectacles and was balding at the top. There was a name tag on the robe: "Roy." Roy had a big leather bound book with him. He pulled out a photographed and looked at it in the light, then to me. He looked back and forth a few times and then placed the photo back in the book. He pulled out a feather wedged between the book and started scribbling something in the old book.
"Found'em, taking to the front... of... the... line."
"What me?!" I pointed to myself and looked at him. "Why me?"
"Come along."
He took my hand and dragged me out of the line. I heard some grumbling as someone in the line spat on me; a moment later, I felt it.
