The Judgment Is Yours

WE WERE HERE FOR YOU 

     The giant neon sign was large enough to be seen for miles. As Gestas stood in line he thought, "well, this is going to take forever. " As far as lines went, this fell somewhere between the DMV and Black Friday at Walmarket. About thirty feet ahead of him was his "partner in crime," Dismas. He tried getting his attention, but thus far he could not get him to acknowledge him. He gave up when he saw what appeared to be the man in charge heading towards him.  

"Gestas? Mr. Gestas, hello."

Yessir, Joe inquisitively replied.

"Hello, hello," extending his right hand.

"My name is Mr. Solomon. I will be your counselor for your appointment."

 Solomon was shorter than 6 feet, but his beard gave the illusion of a long face and a slender physique. 

"Thank you, Mr.?”

“It’s Solomon, Mr. Solomon if you prefer.

 Everyone around here calls me Mr. Solomon.”

Gestas felt uneasy as watched the brow of Mr. Solomon fold and scrunch. His uneasiness turned to concern, as he watched him slowly close his eyes as if in mourning.

“Is everything ok?”

“Well Mr. Gestas, I see a major problem. I will need a minute, please wait right here.” Mr. Solomon backed away, and turned. Gestas watched as he made his way to the front of the line, coming up to Mr. Dismas. Mr. Solomon stopped and leaned in and whispered something to Dismas, which from Gestas’ vantage point, made Dismas very happy.  He grabbed Mr. Solomon’s right hand with a two-handed, aggressive shake, saying thank you over and again, which all could hear.  Gestas looked around to see people, all around Mr. Solomon, nearly weeping in gratitude. There were some, like Gestas, who seemed overly concerned about the vibe that Solomon was sending. It seemed that when it came to the unknown, time seemed to last forever, as if each second took three hours. For Gestas, it was taking ten times as long. He could still see Mr. Solomon, but his figure was disappearing to a point. As he waited, he felt a tap on his left shoulder.

“Gestas!!! I can’t believe it. I never expected to run into you here of all places.”

Gestas recognized the voice, but couldn’t place the name.

“Hey, wow, this is crazy weird. I was going to say the same thing to you,” Gestas feigned his way through, trying to remember his name.

“Where have you been? The last time I saw you was, oh I can’t even remember how long ago.” The man spoke genuinely, as seeing an old friend again, would make you feel.

Gestas tried to recall his name again, thinking of a way to place the right question in this man’s head that would make him reveal his name.

“I think the last time I saw you was at the wedding,” it was a neat little generalized question, that would either reveal or rule out, who this man was.

“Oh, no,, it was way after that. Like three years ago at the...uhm, the, oh, what the heck’s the name of that place.”

Gestas hung on every word, desperately searching for a clue. In that moment, Mr. Solomon came up behind him, and said, “Mr. Cornelius? Right this way please." CORNELIUS, that was it. He was the supervisor from downtown at the hall.  Gestas called out, “Hey, wait, Cornelius. Hey, Solomon, Mr. Solomon, where am I supposed to go? He was behind me.” Gestas was in a mild panic. ‘What is going on in this place, and for that matter, how long have I been waiting in this damned line?’  His thoughts bumbled around his gray matter, but he couldn't recall anything about it. As his brain raced, several people were being led past him to a much larger, brighter room. Above Gestas, he saw a balcony filling in slowly with men and women. From this angle he suddenly saw his old pal Mr. Dismas.

“Dismas!!!” he shouted. “Dismas, Dismas, Dismas. Dismas, Dismas, Dismas!!!” like a machine gun in automatic repeat action. Mr. Dismas looked around to find the origin of the annoying repetition of his name. His gaze met Gestas’, and he mouthed emphatically, which looked like ‘i’m sorry.’  Gestas reached his neck out to catch the gaze of Mr. Dismas,, but it was now gone. He didn’t know what that meant, if that was in fact, what he was gesturing. One thing was for sure, the man they called Mr. Solomon was the most important person in that room, and he seemed to be moving people through to another place quickly, when you had his attention. Or so it seemed.

     Gestas was looking about, trying to determine how and why he was in this large room. He had seen two familiar faces, and met Mr.Solomon. Gestas made the choice to get to the front of his line and get his guidance counseling done with, so he could get back to work. Oddly, one of his best friends had gone from the waiting room to the large, bright amphitheater.  He noticed others peering in, but he couldn't see the source of the natural, white light. Gestas moved through the crowd purposely, albeit slowly. As he moved through, he came upon another friend, Izzy.

"Izzy, thank goodness. I'm so confused. What is this place? What are all these people waiting on?"

Izzy looked at Gestas, with a tear drawing from his eye like a tiny drop from a tiny water pump. 

"Gestas. My dear friend Gestas. So it was true. I had heard the rumor that you and Dismas were arrested. I had no idea that you would be here. Have you seen Dismas?"

"Yes, yes, I saw him earlier. He was ahead of me in line, way ahead. I was told by Mr. Solomon to wait back there," he pointed behind them, "but I'm unsure of what's going on."

" Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You are dead, Gestas. I am dead, Dismas is dead. Everyone here is dead."

Gestas' mind locked up. He thought to himself, 'this can't be possible. How on earth can I be dead. This is a lie. I was just taking Dismas to the shops. We smashed and grabbed everything we could. So I can't be dead, because that would mean Dismas was dead, and I was just with him. Izzy must have lost his nut. I saw him two days ago, alive as a newborn son. 

" That's impossible, Izzy. You must have had a little too much wine the other day. Clearly, we are speaking to each other so we're not dead."

"Gestas, I am dead, and I know that for sure, because I killed myself. So you are dead my friend."

"Go to hell, Izzy, just go to hell. You don't want to tell me, we’ll watch this," Gestas motioned for Mr. Solomon. 

" Solomon, Mr. Solomon, please," he waved him over to where Izzy and he were standing.

" Ah, Mr. Gestas, I told you to stay put. And here you are talking with this, this Judas."

" Mr. Solomon. Izzy here is drunk.. Telling me hes dead, your dead everyone here is dead. Tell me please where I am, and throw this drunk out of here. "

"I have no business with this man, and he has no business talking to you. Now, Mr. Gestas, come with me, your appointment is now."

     Mr. Solomon led Gestas down a long, long tunnel that emptied into the large, bright room. There was a giant desk, with one great viewing screen. As Gestas approached, he saw a blank screen, and his name: GESTAS.

"Please sit, Mr. Gestas. I want you to give your full attention to me, at this moment. Tell me," Solomon glared, "where do you think you are?"

Gestas seemed frightened, as if he were a child who had just got caught disobeying his father for the first time.

"I'm not sure," he squeaked. "The last thing I remember is getting drunk by the shops with Dismas and Izzy. Izzy had some coin on him, but was in a shit mood. He said something I couldn't understand. And then I go blank. Where exactly are we?"

"Before we get to that," Solomon paused, "tell me about how you see yourself. "

Gestas thought it was a trap of sorts, but couldn't get the angle.

"How do I see myself? As what? A person, a man what?"

"All of it, Mr. Gestas. For I have a point to make, but I need you to start the bidding, as it were. I guide hundreds of people per day, but none quite like you. In order to, uhm, guide you correctly, I need to hear your take on, well, on you!"

     Gestas' eyes suddenly opened wide and strained. He realized he was in fact dead. Sweat began to materialize in beads on his forehead. " I AM dead,"he thought .

" I can see that look in your eyes that you have figured out you're dead. You should not have any long term memories left. That's where I come in, to help you remember. " A chill whitened his face, and his anxiety was running through his whole being.

"Mr. Solomon. Why can't I remember anything from my life? What is going on, where the hell am I? "

Solomon crossed his left ankle over right, while leaning on the desk.

" This is what is to be evermore known as Purgatory. It is here where I review your life with you. We will come to places where the review will pause. These are called test points. They are the predetermined, purposely placed

Moral Interactions, or MIs. The reason for these, is to look at what road you took. Everything that was stored permanently in your memory will be factored into the equation.

"I don't.."

"Think of it as an open book test. The book is all your memories, all your lessons and all your reasonable ideas of where you are when the MIs are placed in."

" This isn't fair. How do I know where these MIs are? Shouldn't there be a warning, or isn't some pop quiz?"

"Everyone who lives from the age of reason on, gets the same volume of MIs, relative to their experience. As far as your pop quiz comment goes, you are alerted by the Deja Vu phenomenon. At those blocks of seconds in the deja vu, you are seeing the same lesson that you failed at before in your life. Although the deja vu seems to come up randomly, they are all the same MIs presented in different costumes, if you will."

"How many times have I lived?"

"Just the one."

"What the hell?"

"That brings us up to your review. It is here where we view the reel of your total living experience. As we watch, you will begin to recognize where the MIs were placed and what the lesson was. Essentially, you are graded on your ability to abandon the terrestrial, for the eternal life with God."

"Oh boy, something doesn't feel right. 

I feel a wave washing through me. It feels like when you get caught stealing."

"This is normal, for most."

Gesmas dropped to his knees. He bowed his head, weeping at this feeling. The feeling of never being happy, because you are too connected to the life on earth, those ever rushing, shortened years from birth to death.

" Mr. Solomon, I don't want to remember. What I feel is just about to explode from the pressure that is building. At the same time, I know it can never be released. I don't want to know what I did, I can't remember those things, that life. Oh my God, make this pressure stop. Come on Solomon, make it stop."

Solomon looked unaffected. 

"Mr. Gesmas, let's start from the end.and work back from there. That's all I can do to try and ease your feeling of fear and anxiety that will never, ever end."

"No. No. No. I don't want to see this. I don't want to know, please!!!!

At the moment, Dismas was approaching Solomon. Mr. Solomon saw that Dismas had been granted his pass into the large, bright room on the top floor.

"Welcome home, Mr. Dismas."

"Thank you , thank you thank you…"

Tears were welling up as if on a perpetual loop o f gratitude."

Dismas looked over to Gesmas. 

"!Is there nothing that can be done." "He played his hand of destiny unwisely. And, more importantly, you were there with him when you were strung up. God gave him the ultimate hall pass, and he thought of nothing but himself. I don't and can't understand the simplicity of choosing wisely. But as you saw eye to eye with him that Friday afternoon in Jerusalem: he chose unwisely."