The Place Between Certainty and Doubt

The air wasn’t warm but not cold either. It blew in blusters. One second stillness, the next a mighty blow, sending dried leaves into a whirlwind of browns, yellows, oranges, and reds. The wind this time of year left those curious as to the day, early winter or unrelenting summer would bring. Chilly or warm the air leaves a trail of nutmeg and cinnamon in its wake. October brings many things, but most of all it brings change.

The reporters collecting outside the gates of the LaMonte Mansion had been waiting there since noon, it was approaching dusk and still the reason they were called had yet to show themselves. Perceval Beaumont LaMonte, the owner of the large Georgian style house on Bartlett St, had abruptly called all manner of reporter, writer, and journalist to the outside of this stately manor to witness “the most incredible discovery of all of human history”. So here they have been waiting, watching the grey sky grow streaks of purples and reds like paint strokes brushed across the sky. This sentiment was lost on the dozen or so waiting as they had been for nearly 6 hours. 

A member of the Apollo Gazette arrived with trays of hot cider for the restless crowd. Rumors began taking shape as to why they had been summoned. And summoned was usually the correct term when referring to LaMonte. The LaMonte Family have been intertwined with the history of Apollo since its founding in 1823. Most of the northwest sections of town was purchased off of the LaMonte Estate back in 1846. Percy LaMonte wished from a very young age to not be lost in the family history of the great LaMonte lineage. The LaMontes had been prominent statesmen, painters, philosophers, businessman, revolutionaries, even a musician. But Percy look towards science. 

This was not the first time that Percy had called on the press to come see his latest discovery. His first came when he was 16, he showed off a set of articulating artificial limbs he had constructed for his younger sister who just a year earlier had lost the use of her legs to polio. Next came a motorized butler, able to complete any task you were able to ask. Then it was the plants that required no sunlight or water, but could grow from seed to fruit in just under a week. Pills to make your hair grow, a serum to make your dog smarter, spectacles to see tomorrow, a small box made of copper that could commune with the dead, and a cure for small pox -this was later debunked as only a short term treatment - all of these plus a few other less than extravagant findings resulted in the summoning of the reporters. There was rarely a question of if they should come, according to him, if they missed this, they would miss the future. 

The apple cider did much to quell the discomfort many of them were feeling standing outside the gates. Many hadn’t noticed the street lamps being lit, or the houses across the street lighting candles for the pumpkins. Dusk was lingering long as patience grew short. What did he have for them today? Milk that didn’t go bad? A machine that controlled the weather? Maybe a flying machine capable of reaching another galaxy? All ideas were possible when thinking of Professor Percy LaMonte. 

It was nearly dark when the doors opened at the house. The crowd quieted down as Percy stepped out. He was wearing a maroon suit and matching waistcoat, with a gold watch chain. As most usual for these events, Percy wore his beaver skin top hat. A rush of wind blew a swirl of leaves right past him as if it were planned. He took his first step out, his feet crunching the leaves. He paused and reached his hand back through the doorway and a bright white hand came forward into his. A figure stepped out, glowing white, exaggerated by the orange and grey overtones of the dusk sky. This figure was dressed in flowing white robes, with long flowing silvery-white hair. The hands and head of the figure were evident but the animation of the robes, left one wondering if this figure was walking or floating.  

The approached a podium set out right at the precipice of the property. The reporters were pushed back by the opening outward of the gate, then quickly filled in the widening gap as soon as it was safe. He took a moment to allow the crowd time to soak in the figure next to him. Percy, being of a quite tall stature himself, was dwarfed by this figure. Reaching nearly 8 ft tall and exuding a bright whiteness, not so much a glow but an aura. Cameras began to snap away at this tall figure. Up close the onlookers were able to see clearly now the face. Gathered outside the gates for more than 6 hours were some of the most crafty wordsmiths the northeast had to offer yet none could agree as to what the face of this figure looked like. Many struggled with a description only to erase it and start again when going back to take another look. In the most conservative description, it is unremarkable. That is not to say it is ugly or plain, far from it. When the crowd would look upon this mystery figure’s face they would feel beauty and happiness inside them. A spring of jubilation and ease would erupt within like a baby staring into their mother’s eyes for the first time. They felt warm but still they could give no description. 

“Ladies Gentleman,” Percy began “It is no secret that I am growing in years. In few weeks it will be my 80th birthday, and when I die, I will be leaving this earth with no heirs to speak of that will continue my legacy.” This was true, Percy had spent the majority of his life so consumed with the advancement of science, technology and the human race that he never stopped to enjoy the here and now and find a suitable mate. A child can offer you look at thefuture. They are the ones carrying your legacy. But Percy having spent these 80 years alone for the most part, would leave it alone. 

“Being of perpetual curiosity, I wanted to know what lie ahead of me. What comes after death? Where do we go, who do we see? I devoted myself to finding the truth.” He had indeed spent a great deal of time and energy trying to answer the question religion has theorized for millennia, after death comes the afterlife. Starting small and researching, he attended many seances, even held a few at his home. He consulted varied religious leaders and medical professionals. He traveled to the holiest of sites throughout the world trying to find a plausible explanation. He spent a considerable amount of time in Switzerland working with theoretical physicists, desiring to crack theories on energy transference. Locked away in his home for months and months, Percy applied all the knowledge he had acquired from his journeys. And now on this October night he was revealing his findings to the world. 

“Autumn is the time of year of transition. Plants and animals alike understand this time of year is about preparation for death in winter and their eventual rebirth in the spring. Autumn is the time to shed away the days before and look to the future. We must accept the inevitability that we will die, but with the knowledge of what lies ahead, we may prepare ourselves for the journey.” The crowd naturally was concerned and confused as to where Percy was going with his speech. His revelatory speeches tended to ramble but one could follow the logic as it pertained to his discovery. Now though, as he spoke of death and rebirth with a bright 8-ft giant standing next to him, they were left baffled. 

“After considerable time, effort, and strong conviction in my beliefs, I Perceval Beaumont LaMonte, stand here before you with proof of the existence of an afterlife.” This declaration caused quite a stir among the crowd, and immediately questions began shout their way to the podium. 

He continued, “I, using advanced technology of my own design, devised a machine capable of not only peering into the afterlife, but walking in it and returning. I found myself walking through the ethereal plane, basking in the palace of god.” The questions coming from the crowd grew louder and louder with each sentence Percy orated. Normally, the journalistic crowd allows Percy to get through his presentation before they start asking, but this was getting too fantastic for them to stay put. Many of them started to piece together the relationship between the speech and the strange figure standing silent next to Percy. Finally someone said, “Is that an Angel?”

“Yes indeed,”Percy answered proudly, “This is indeed an angel, their name is XaBaruu. During my last trip, XaBaruu approached me, curious as to where I came from and how I had managed to get there.”

The attention moved away from Percy and questions were then directed at XaBaruu. Not surprising to the crowd was that XaBaruu could understand and speak in perfect English. Among the many questions shouted at them, they were able to answer a few.

“Is Heaven a Paradise?”

“Yes, I think it’s a paradise, we never want for anything and it’s the most beautiful place in the whole universe.”

“Do you live on a cloud?”

“ Some of us do live up in the clouds, but many live down on the lush green surface. The hills go on forever, with clean fresh rivers cutting through land.”

“What is God like?”

“I have never met God.”

“Can you fly, do you have wings?”

XaBaruu extended their arms out to the side, and the flowing robes animated as if a wind come up from underneath, lifting them up 10 ft in the air before returning back to the ground. 

The crowd become overwhelmed at this point and Percy tried to calm them. In truth it had been the first time in a while that one of his inventions of discoveries had spurned so much excitement from the press corp. He wrapped up the press conference and led XaBaruu back inside the house. 

Darkness had come completely by then and the temperature dropped considerably as it did most fall nights. The reporters began to disperse, muffled speculation and headline pitches rose above the sound of piles of dried leaves they forged. 

How was the world going to react to an Angel, to heaven? What was going to be the human reaction to proof that there is another level after death?

Percy spent the first few days basking in the fame his latest discovery had afforded him. He was on the cover of every newspaper and magazine, the leading story of every nightly news. And everyday, his message had spread farther and farther beyond the limits of Apollo and New York and the country itself, he was getting letters, phone calls, interview requests, and telegrams from all over the world. England, Germany, Israel, India, China, Egypt, Ethiopia, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Brazil - all wanted had the same questions. Asking the legitimacy of his claim of the afterlife and the existence of the angel XaBaruu. He would answer each the same, “Heaven is as real as this house only grander, and the Angel as real as you or I only sublime. 

Percy awoke on the seventh morning of the seventh day and sat at his breakfast table overlooking the garden in the back of the house. He sat reflecting on all the goodness he had brought to the world. He thought of all the scared people, all the sick and dying, and how they must be at ease knowing they will wake up in paradise. He thought of the people about to lose a loved ones, but instead of grief they can feel joy knowing their parent or spouse or child was going to a better place, and actually be sure it was true. 

His next thoughts came about himself. How would he be recognized for such an achievement? Awards? Of course. A knighthood? Money, land, titles? Certainly. Honorary degrees? Oh I’ll have a degree from every university in this country!, he thought. His happiness and good spirits were not long lasting. His breakfast arrived along with the stack of newspapers. He tore into them, like a child opening a present, anxious to see what praise was going to be showered on him today.

One by one, Percy flipped the pages with greater haste, throwing down the Gazette, grabbing the Times, throwing that down to grab the Post, next the Journal, then the Bugle, and so on. He went through them all cover to cover, and it was nothing but the same. His name had diminished to little more than a footnote, something a journalist would add for context to their large story. A handful of articles read that almost all Churches, Synagogues, and Mosques show record increase in numbers. It speculates that proof of afterlife has struck the fear back in people to once again protect their souls. 

Many more articles show a grimmer side. Once such headline read “SUICIDE ON THE RISE!”. It was true, it was something he had thought would occur but not this quickly or in such numbers. The worldwide numbers of suicidal deaths rose 300% just 2 days after the news broke, and was trending upwards. 

But the cover story for just about all the papers dealt with the darkest and most dangerous story. War. Religious leaders from all over the world, all jumped to the ownership of Percy’s discovery. After all what was a religion without the uncertainty of the afterlife. A religion hinged on a person’s faith that their god was the Shepard them to the life hereafter. Now, Percy and XaBaruu had disrupted all that. This disruption sparked and then stoked a flame on dried brush, causing an incendiary wave of wildfire across the whole planet. World War Three had started and it was a Holy War. 

XaBaruu had joined him at the table, they had been roaming the grounds in the early morning, but made their way in for breakfast when Percy arrived. It was XaBaruu who broke the silence at the table. 

“Does something trouble you Percy, you have death on your face.”

Percy tells them of the suicide, the war and shows XaBaruu the front page of the Gazette, a picture of a tank firing in front of a bombed out church. 

“What does this mean? Why would your kind do this to each other, to themselves?” XaBaruu asked.

“Because of me, because of you, because humans can’t stand to know the truth about anything, they’d rather stay in the dark comforted by what they think is real.” He replied

“But what truth do they know, what truth about me would cause all this death and killing and hate. I am just XaBaruu, I am nothing, you showed up out of nowhere and I went with you. Who am I to cause this?”

“You’re an Angel, you come from a place that we humans aspire to ascend to. We spend everyday alive on this Earth thinking about what happens when we die. And now we know, we go to your place. We go to heaven, and heaven is real, and people just can’t wrap their heads around that. So they have to lash out and kill each other.”

“But I am not an Angel, and where I am from is not called Heaven. I am XaBaruu from the Planet Kla-aa-tel. You human appeared at my home. I saw you once, then again, and a third time I thought say hello…and here we are. I am deeply sorry for the confusion.”

Percy was speechless, he felt his heart stop. What had he done. Not only had he destroyed mankind, a civilization that existed for tens of thousands of yers, and it was all over a mistake. What could he do now, tell everyone it’s an alien instead. No that could cause more mayhem. He can’t let the world eat itself this way, killing and dying over false belief. Percy found the only logical solution he could muster. 

He called his contacts at the radio station and rushed right down. He didn’t have time for his normal fanfare of discovery, but just needed to get on the air. He sat in front of a microphone and spoke the words out to the world, 

“My fellow humans, It is with much regret that I must admit, that one week ago my revelation to all mankind of the existence of an Angel and heaven were a hoax. That was not an angel, and I have no more information about the afterlife than anyone person on this planet. I am sorry.”

And with that, he got up from the microphone and went home. XaBaruu was there to meet him.

Distraught and helpless, Percy slumped down in a winged chair in the main room off the foyer. He was lost at his next steps. For his entire life he was a LaMonte, which meant something. And in this town, he was a local, not hero, but more of a celebrity. He was respected to say the least. But now he was a fraud, a charlatan, a huckster, a film flam man. Most of all he was hated the world over as news spread of his hoax caught every new wire from here to New Zealand. He had no where to go. Even his own mansion, a growing protest was amassing outside his gates. He was a prisoner on this planet. 

XaBaruu standing ever silent in the corner of the room waited for a window of time to offer a suggestion. Percy was to travel back with them, why not stay. He had no place to go on Earth so why not try another world. He had built this machine, which turned out to be a portal between planets, to explore the unknown, perhaps time to explore was now.

Without a thought, Percy and Xabarru then climbed into his machine and with a few beeps and boops, a whirl of wind, a blast of energy, the two were off, neither were seen again. 

As for humanity, news of the hoax spread fast and the spilling of blood in the name of Percy Beaumont LaMonte and Xabarru had ended. Humans were once again safe and sound living in the place between certainty and doubt.