During the split second when his IED exploded, Dwayne McNair experienced an unusual burst of intellectual activity – that is, he had two thoughts at the same time. One was, 'Maybe that was too much fertiliser.' The other was, 'I'm glad I got baptised before I joined the Knights of White Superiority.' Those were his last two thoughts on this planet, because the next thing he saw was a very bright flash which resolved into. . .

. . . a nondescript but well-lit waiting area in what looked to be a modern office complex.

This can't be heaven, Dwayne thought, regarding the off-white plastic moulding of his seat with loathing. I mean, isn't it supposed to be gold and silver and pearl and stuff? He was also troubled by the fact that the muzak system was playing James Taylor and not the latest praise song. The floor was covered with indoor/outdoor carpeting. As a former local contractor, Dwayne approved of the practical choice, but had trouble reconciling its existence to the CGI he was used to.

Dwayne's bewilderment was mirrored in the faces of the two other occupants of the waiting area. One of them was wearing a keffiyeh over shirt and jeans, while the other sported a black beret and matching uniform, which made him look trim but sinister. The two of them were sitting as far apart as possible in the small space and glaring at each other with profound disgust.

'Gentlemen, come in!' called a voice in the next office. They entered an airy office, furnished in what looked like state-of-the-art IKEA furniture. A handsome red-haired and -bearded man greeted them. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with 'HR' emblazoned – well, printed, anyway – on the front.

'Are you a' angel?' Dwayne asked.

The guy shrugged. 'That's usually what we're called. Call me Eli. I'm here to help you with the induction process.' He smiled. 'Massoud, good to see you. If you wouldn't mind sitting here, next to Uri, and Dwayne, you can have that chair.' Eli sat down behind the desk, which was probably named Ingrid, dropped his ring of Allen wrenches into a drawer, and regarded his computer screen with some interest.

'But what does HR mean?' persisted Dwayne.

Eli laughed. 'It's our updated logo. We have to keep up with the alphabets.'

'Now, Dwayne, your case is pretty straightforward. It seems you miscalculated the explosive potential of the stuff you ordered from farm supply. Good thing, too: your planned 'action' would have taken out a school bus, and I wouldn't want to be looking at that level of karma.' He read on. 'Massoud and Uri, you two have a connection. Can you guess what that is?'

'He,' the man in the beret pointed, 'got blown up by his own pager?' Uri laughed. 'Good. I did that. I'm not sorry.'

'I know you're not,' replied Eli. 'Just as Massoud isn't sorry that the missile he launched hit your headquarters. So there we are.'

Massoud, who had been taking this all in, suddenly exploded – in a figurative sense this time. 'Wait! I have only one question!'

Eli turned mild blue eyes on the speaker. 'Sure. That's what we're here for.'

'Where are my 72 virgins?'

There was a lot more Massoud wanted to know, of course, like why he was here in this persiflage of a human concept of the afterlife along with a bunch of infidels he wouldn't accidentally spit on in the dark, facing a guy in jeans who looked like he knew how to assemble a flatpack. But, like most terrorists, he tended to be inarticulate. He had always preferred to let incendiary devices do the talking for him.

'Oh, yes: about that.' Eli glanced at his computer screen. 'It appears that the virgins had something to say about that. They decided they'd rather not.'

Massoud closed his mouth and sat down.

Uri had a complaint. 'I expected to get priority handling on this, you know. I'm sure you have to put these people somewhere. But next to us? After all, we have seniority.'

Eli shrugged again. 'I'm sorry, but what did you all think was going on?'

'What do you mean?' asked Uri.

The angel pointed out the window behind him to a vast vista of puffy clouds. Far, far below, they could see the lands of Earth spread out in all their beauty.

'Did you or did you not, all of you, call upon the Creator of the Universe, aka my boss? And did you or did you not, assert that that universe was rightly His? And did you, or did you not, all say that first and foremost, this God was all about love?' He looked at them severely. 'You're like a bunch of kids yelling, "Dad loves me best!"'

The three newly-dead 'freedom fighters' stared at the HR angel in surprise. Not finding anything to say to that, wisely, they said nothing.

Then Dwayne ventured, 'We're goin' to hell for blowin' things up, aren't we?'

Eli laughed. 'Not unless you insist on it.'

'What do you mean?' asked Massoud, still processing the disappointing loss of promised virgins.

'Look,' said Eli. 'There's only one heaven, because there's only one Creator. Think about it: a non-holistic reality matrix would eventually tear itself apart with internal contradictions. So you've got to learn to live together.'

Uri, the most theoretical thinker, saw the flaw in this immediately. 'But if we haven't been able to do this in thousands of years on Earth, how are we supposed to manage it here?'

Eli chuckled. 'Because we perfidious spirits have changed the rules on you. You're not in charge any longer. We are.'

This sounded ominous. They looked at him anxiously.

'Yes,' said the angel with barely suppressed laughter. 'You have to be nice to each other.'

'But we don't know how!' they all wailed.

'Don't worry. We've got a plan to help you learn. You all get reincarnated.'

'Huh?' Dwayne was having trouble wrapping his head around this. 'As what?'

'That's the good part,' whispered Eli. 'As each other. You, Dwayne, will live in the Middle East. Uri, you'll go to the Midwest. And Massoud? How would you like to be a Jew for awhile?'

There were howls of protest. All three spoke at once. 'You can't DO that! That's not who we are! What if we just want to kill each other again?'

Eli held up a hand. 'Don't worry. You can't kill each other. There are no wars – the Prince of Peace is in charge, remember? No bombs, no guns – sorry, Dwayne, and no squirrel hunting, the squirrels complained. You'll have to talk it out.. And yes, the first few hundred years are pretty passive-aggressive. Like a very stubborn Quaker meeting. But you'll get the hang of it, sooner or later.'

He stood up. 'Now, go away, all of you, and start learning. I've got a coffee break coming before the next batch.' He pressed a button on the desk. Three burly attendants appeared, in coveralls that read 'Relocation Service'. With head-scratching and confusion, but ultimately with resignation, the three failed world-shakers shuffled out into the corridor.

Eli pressed the button again. 'Hey, Joe? Can I get an espresso, please? Make it dark roast: I've got pharmaceutical reps incoming.' He stared out the window, singing to himself.

Learning how to love from thee,

Loving him who first loved me.

Dmitri Gheorgheni

07.10.24 Front Page

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