Interlude

“Good morning!”

“Huh.”

“Good morning!”

“Who’s that?”

“It’s me, silly.”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t tell me you can’t remember.”

“...”

“We knew each other on Earth...”

“Um…”

“Well I guess when I think about it, we didn’t really know each other for that long. At least not from your perspective.” 

“Am I… uh...   … missing something?”

“No and yes. You are ‘dead’, as you Earthlings call it. You no longer have your human body. Do you remember your death?”

“I don’t remember a single damn thing.”

“Don’t worry, that’s normal. It should come back soon.”

“Where are we anyway? Is this Hell? Purgatory? Is it my fate to spend eternity in this confusing emptiness with nothing but another disembodied voice that will only give me vague answers?”

“Oh God no. Sure, you had your flaws as a human, but what human doesn’t? You weren’t nearly bad enough to be sentenced to eternal damnation. That whole concept is misunderstood by Earthlings anyway. Eternal damnation isn’t all that bad when its all said and done. Think of it as a bitter herb that you take when you get sick.”

“...” “...” “You uh… still didn't really answer my question…”

“Oh yes, of course. Where are we? It's a transition period of sorts. Think of it like the interlude of a play or some other performance. The audience goes about and mingles. Some people might go to the restroom, or go have a smoke, or chat with someone about what has happened so far and about what might happen when the performance resumes.”

“One thing I know for sure is I’d much rather be having a smoke than chatting here with you.”

“Very funny. I know that you’re—”

“You know what, screw you! I want out of here! What sort of hell hole is this!?”

“Please… calm down. You mustn’t do that here. This place isn’t like Earth. It’s a much… uh…longer process coming back from emotional outbursts like that. There’s no friction, nothing to grab onto to keep yourself from going insane.”

“Well, that’s great. There’s potential to be more insane than I already feel.”

“I understand… you’re not used to this. It gets easier. And take comfort in the fact that you’ll be back in a cozy familiar human body soon enough.”

“Well… ok if you say so.   …You mentioned uh… we knew each other on Earth?”

“Sort of… I knew you, I guess. From this perspective I now realize I was probably rather unimportant to you.”

“Care to elaborate?” 

“Do you remember anything yet?”

“I remember how I died.”

“How did you die?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“It’s better to say, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t accept what happened.”

“I- I-… I just stopped trying. I gave up. One morning I woke up and decided I’d just lie there until I died. The last thing I remember is just falling asleep. And now here I am.”

“And now here you are. Why did you do it anyway? Why did you give up?” 

“I was useless… nobody cared a lick about me, my family all forgot about me. I went to the same meaningless job every day. Had the same meaningless conversations every day, and when I got home I’d watch television and drink until I passed out. I hated myself. I was once so smart, and funny, and smiley and energetic, but somehow I ended up where I ended up. Sick. Dull. I was basically dead already.”

“If it makes you feel any better, your family didn’t forget about you. They all thought about you all the time, but they had their own troubles, they felt, in some ways, the same way you felt. They too had become consumed by shame. It’s not uncommon for Earthlings you know. In fact, I would consider it a symptom of being human, to have periods of shame and self-hatred. But they are always temporary.”

“How do you know so much anyway?”

“I really don’t know much of anything. I’m just trying to show you how things seem from my point of view.”

“Oh. You uh… mentioned we knew each other?”

“Well… I knew you. I don’t think you will ever remember our meeting. Do you remember when you had that apartment in your early twenties?” 

“I do now actually. I had just graduated from college.”

“Yes. You were still ambitious then. Excited about the future. You saw the potential that life held for you. It was fantastic, I wanted to be your friend, but you didn’t pay any attention to me. And you seemed bothered whenever I tried to connect with you, so I stayed away. I have failed to mention… I was a fly. I flew into your apartment with you as you entered one day. That was just hours after my maturity. I had just gotten up and flying. The wind was blowing me in all sorts of directions and suddenly I felt you and became interested. So, I was investigating you while you were walking through your door and then the door closed. After a while the air started to feel funny. It was all dry and cold. Stale. It was suffocating my little fly body. I wanted nothing more than the warm humid air of the summer. Slowly, I was dying. I pounded and pounded against the window. Outside was so close. I could see it, but there was that darn window blocking my escape. On my fourth day I knew I would not last through the night. I had accepted the fact that my entire life would be spent wasting away in that artificial atmosphere. I made one last attempt. I threw myself against the glass repeatedly for minutes. Trying desperately to get your attention. Finally, you approached me. You were grinning stupidly. ‘Hey there Mr. Fly,’ you said. And then you cracked the window and coaxed me through. I hated to leave you. I wanted to worship you and kiss your feet. My giant savior. I lived 20 more days after that. Quite a long life for a fly. There wasn’t a moment that I didn’t think of you. Every sweet, raw moment as a fly was thanks to you. I know now that it was a miniscule act for you, but that few seconds of consideration was everything to me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to thank you. And to let you know how much you meant to me… how much you mean to me. And I hope I can make it up to you somehow.”

“Thank you. Thank you for telling me that.”

“It’s the least I can do. Anyway, we both ought to get some rest now. We still have some things to take care of on Earth.” 

“But there’s still so much I wish to know.”

“I have told everything I have to tell. We must part ways now, my friend. I’ll be seeing you.”