The Dead Man's Guide to the WorldMind
From Storieswiki.org
First part of Morpheus Post Thanatos -- an open anthology
Jordan became fuzzily aware of himself again.
(Huh? Wha? Wher' am I? Shit, did Danny get me drunk again? Dangit! He got me out to chase girls with him, pestered me to drink until I passed out, then dumped me in the street again when HE hooked up, just like last month!)
(Must have been some night, though, since I don't even remember leaving work...)
His eyes didn't seem to be focusing right. It looked like some normal town, but it stayed out of focus. That, and he swore that building hadn't been there a moment ago.
Feeling strangely muddy-headed and physically numb, he looked around. He saw a few people walking around across the street, maybe a couple dozen or so. Something didn't seem right about them, but he couldn't put his finger on it just then. Since he didn't see anyone walking on his side of the street, he thought he'd go and see if anyone would point him at a phone. Or at least have him arrested for smelling like a wino or something; he'd at least know where he was when they booked him.
The street was deceptively wide; it took him a good five minutes to cross those thirty feet. (I must really have been crocked off my ass! This is one doozy of a hangover. Gotta quit letting Danny nag me into going with him on these blowouts. Good thing there's no traffic!) He finally reached the sidewalk, congratulated himself for not screwing THAT much up in his state, then tried to speak to the elderly man coming up to him.
"Excu- Huh? Where'd you go?"
Confused by the apparent disappearance of the elderly man, Jordan tried again, this time touching the shoulder of a young lady as he started to speak.
"Pardon mEEEEIIII-"
He found he'd recrossed the street much faster, scrambling backwards on his hands and feet, than he had going forward. (Adrenalin does that. LORD! What the hell had she turned into?)
About then he felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking down from the fire escape (!) he saw a sandy-blond-haired guy wearing blue jeans and a off-forest-green tee shirt grinning up at him.
"Sorry about spooking you. Shoulda known better after you had Tessa, um, blow up at you."
"Er. Yes. I was, um, just checking out the architecture, wanted a closer view of this section up here." Turning around, he saw he was staring at an utterly ordinary brick wall. "Yep, I was right: absolutely nothing here to see."
The guy laughed. "Well, it was a nice try! However, don't worry too much; you had good reason."
"Yeah, what about that? What the hel- ?"
The guy held up a hand for him to stop. "I know things around here are strange, but mind if we hold off the Q & A until you're down a little closer? I mean, if you really feel safer up there, we can keep yelling back and forth, but I just figured you might feel less paranoid if we could find someplace to have a drink before we talk. Calm your nerves."
(A drink?) He shuddered, thinking how he likely got to this weird place. "Er, maybe a coffee. I'm kinda on the wagon these days."
"Suit yourself."
Jordan gracefully clambered down the escape's ladder like a monkey (aka, nearly broke his fool neck when it finally came loose beneath him), then held out his hand. "Hi! Name's Jordan."
"Tanjer."
"Tanjer? Interesting name."
"Yeah, I know, but I've had it so long, no one knows how I got it, not even me." Tanjer put a friendly hand on Jordan's shoulder and used his other to gesture down the street. "Walk with me, lad."
Jordan concentrated for a few moments on making sure he wouldn't trip over his feet again so soon, then looked around the at the buildings as they walked. They looked oddly wrong when he would first look, but would seem very ordinary and proper when he studied them. (Bloody hangover!) He shook his head violently, trying to shock himself to sobriety.
Tanjer took that moment to clear his throat.
"Take it easy, kid. It's not in your head, but I want to sit us down safely before I start explaining things to you."
This surprised Jordan, but before he could say anything, Tanjer was reaching across him to open the door to the cafe. (A cafe that I KNOW wasn't there just a second before...)
Inside, Tanjer ordered two coffees at the bar, then led them to a table in the corner. There weren't all that many people there, but Jordan guessed he was glad for the corner, anyways.
"So, kid, what do you believe in?"
"Huh?"
"What do you believe in. You know, what's your faith, your religion or whatever?"
(Oh, no -- my "guide" is a Jehovah's Witness!) "Uh, I'm not very religious, actually."
Tanjer chuckled. "Yeah, I figured that, since you're here and all. But what did your parents teach you? Since you're white and sound American, good odds they were some kind of Christian, at least for Easter or whatnot."
Jordan puzzled over the "since you're here" and "sound American" comments for a moment before he responded. "Er, actually, no. I haven't talked about it much with my aunts, uncles or cousins, but I don't think anyone in our family does much for religion. I don't even recall Granny Johns worrying too much about it, let alone Dad's parents."
"Well, that makes it harder to advise you, then."
"Why?"
"Well, see, most folks believe in some religion. In America, they tend to default to Christianity. Sure, most don't believe in it while they're alive, but when they find out there is an afterlife, they convert in a hurry."
"Afterlife? What are you talking about?"
"There's no easy way for this... Kid, you're dead."
"I'm what?"
"You heard me, dead."
Jordan twitched at that. (Oh, not a Witness -- an outright looney! Well, humor him for now, since I'm not exactly in the best state for running.) "Er, I don't feel dead."
"That's because you probably died in your sleep or got hit from behind or the like. That's why you're still calm enough to see this place."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Reality is pliable when you're dead. It is literally all in your mind. And since your mind controls what you see, and your stronger emotions control your mind, existence here is all about emotions -- or controlling them."
Jordan could see this one coming. "And youth is always more emotional than maturity." Standard elderly line; this Tanjer must be really old.
"Yep! And since we can only keep things constant by concentration, nothing is permanent. And we can't reproduce, either. All we have is our minds and each other."
"But, I'm to lose my mind?"
"Probably. Passion and lack of discipline."
"Hey!"
"Case in point. Strong reactions to anything are destabilizing."
"And, destabilization leads to what?"
"Well, that's why I asked about your religion. Those who believe in some heaven will expect to see that heaven or the related hell, depending on whether they're at peace & happy, or guilty and fearful. If you absorbed any of the Christian dogma yet lived as an unbeliever, most likely you'd create your own version of the Christian Hell. If you were a good man or a believer, then maybe you'd see the reality Christians expect to see, and you'd "tune in" on the other Christains around."
"Come again?"
"Well, hard to explain how it works, but it's sorta like standing in a crowded room where everyone is talking, then picking out a single conversation. You get hints it's there first, then look for patterns in it, then progress to filling in what you expect based on what you've picked out. Not perfect, but it lets you get the gist."
"So, this isn't Heaven or Hell. What do the Catholics call it, purgatory?"
"That's just it, son. There is no single Heaven; too many sects in Christianity alone, let alone all those other religions. And no two people have the same Hell. Happy people can share their dreams, but the folks seeing Hell are in a full nightmare, panicky, so can't think enough to pick out the patterns in that crowded room. But the thing is, staying in those heavens or hells requires belief and emotional investment. Finding the heavens requires you to think lke everyone else, so you go someplace where everyone is nearly identical -- a real recipe for boredom. Staying in the hells requires actively maintaining fear or hate for long periods of time; even the dead eventually get tired of that. So, eventually, they all drop out of these and find this other place -- here -- where it's much like back on earth, only not so much strong emotion. And you can do most anything you like to the imagined stuff, and other minds will just tune you out if you start trying to hurt them."
Another line from a cliche. "No victims, no crimes."
"Pretty much. It's only the young souls like you who don't know that they CAN escape who can be victims. That's why I want to teach you how to cope here."
That was Jordan's cue to skiddoo. "Well, thanks much, but I think I see my worthless cousin looking for me." He stood up and was quickly at the door. "Danny! Over here, you ass! I'm going to beat you senseless for slipping me LSD! Oh, and thanks for the coffee and the talk, Tanjer -- it helped talk me down from those hallucinations. DANNY!!"
The old man just shook his head. (The young never listen.) He watched, helplessly, as the young man ran down the street, thinking he was chasing his cousin or whatever. (However, they do sometimes hear, and even remember what they hear. That is all I can hope for.) He hoped he'd see the young man again. Reminded him of his own son, all those years ago.
Reminiscing sadly about days long past, the former general-made-Emperor of Rome paid for the coffee and went off in search of other diversions.
