ESPERSIA: Requiem of a Revolutionary

VOID, YEAR N/A  

I think I just died.

The realization hit me like a freight train.

I mean, this has to be it, right? Flying through a dark voided tunnel, straight toward a beacon of light…my life flashing before my eyes in an instant, each choice scrutinized in a single moment, a complete sense of calm…and what is this sensation?

Love?

Yes, that's it. A boundless, all-encompassing love. It's as if I've transcended into a realm where the ecstasy of true pleasure is magnified beyond comprehension. Who knew death would feel so damn good? Religion, I guess?

I do remember reading from the Bible that indiscriminate love envelopes you through the process of death. Still, reading is one thing; experiencing it is another. Not only that, unless I skipped a couple passages, the Bible did not have any excerpts of going through space in a voided tunnel. Or that heaven is just pure darkness. 

Maybe I am speaking out a little early. I still haven't reached the blinding light source, which I assume is my final destination. Maybe those are the pearly gates of heaven, or perhaps just an elevator to send me straight down to hell.

Eh, whatever. I may as well enjoy the ride, and I'm sure I'll get my answers soon enough.

…

Well, I have been floating through this dark void for a minute now. Did I do something wrong? I mean, how do you do death wrong? I can tell the beacon of light is getting closer, but how long will this take? Instinctively, I look down at my wrist to check my watch, immediately making myself feel like an idiot as all that greets me is an amalgamation of spectral particles.

"Goddamn it," I whisper to myself.

As much as I enjoy floating like a balloon with no worries in sight, this is starting to frustrate me. What the hell am I supposed to be doing right now?

Might as well start investigating things. I mean, how in the hell did I even get here? I should probably start with how I died…

In an instant, the memories leading up to my demise flashed before me, recounting the steps by which my death was essentially promised. 

The night that I died, I was celebrating. It was a good month leading up to the final moment; one of my contacts came through with some valuable information, our arms shipment arrived in good order, and we had an influx of new members. I finally began to see some legs in our movement. Finally, some damn good. 

I guess too much good makes you careless and stupid. You trust the wrong people, give away secrets, and, worst of all, get comfortable. And when you get comfortable, you make fuck-ups. It was just one fuck-up. One. But that single fuck-up was enough to get a bullet straight through my head. 

And just like how I was celebrating during my final moments, I am sure many people celebrated my death.

"The terrorist is dead!"

"Civil society survives!"

"Ah, everything will go back to normal."

Those bastards. If only they knew. I was going to change everything, make the world a better place, and not just for a few, but for everyone. I was going to, at the very least.

It's frustrating. I was just a young idiot who thought he could change the world. The audacity of that. I had put so much time and effort, gone through so much bullshit, just for a sudden BANG, to make my dreams as good as dead.

It is what it is. There's really no use in getting emotional about it now. Or at least that is what I am trying to tell myself. Relooking at the memories, the emotions, the potential…I cannot lie. The love was gone; I am enraged.

I shake what used to be my head. I need to calm down and just concentrate on what's ahead. And at this moment, the glaring beacon of light is right in front of me, nearly blinding.

When the beacon of light started speaking directly into my consciousness, I thought I should be freaking out. However, for some reason, when it softly said the words, "Welcome, James Holloway," it oddly felt comforting. 

Unsure of how to respond, I instinctively say, "Hello, whatever you are."

No response. Shit, did I somehow piss off an omnipotent being?

I give it another shot, "Can I assume you are God?"

Another pause in response ensues. The giant beacon of light stands despondently.

Finally, it speaks, "God is one way to address me, but it is difficult to describe myself as God, especially in how you conventionally see it. I am not a sole singular being, but a collective; in a way, if I am God, you are God as well."

Uhhh, I guess that makes sense. Is it an all-is-one, one-is-all type of deal? Whatever, to make things simpler, I am going to refer to him as God.

God continues, "Regardless, my exact identity hardly matters for the purposes of our meeting."

Melancholically, I respond, "Yeah, I'm sure I'll have plenty more time to learn more, being dead and all."

The light pulsed gently. "You sound disappointed. Why is that?"

I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and sorrow. "Because it feels like I've been cut off in the middle of something important."

"What do you mean by 'something important'?" God inquired.

"I mean, I had goals," I explained. "Things I wanted to accomplish, changes I wanted to make. It feels like I was just getting started."

"Many souls find peace in leaving their earthly burdens behind. What burdens you?"

"I don't know if 'burden' is the right word," I said, shaking my head. "I just had this drive to make a mark, to be remembered for something significant."

God's light seemed to flicker thoughtfully. "So, your dissatisfaction is with the timing of your death?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I feel like there was so much more I needed to do. Dying at twenty-two feels like a cruel joke, especially with what needed to be done."

"Hmm, this is a surprise. You are actually not happy with the state you are in," God said bluntly, with a tone that suggested a raised eyebrow.

Did I just hear him right?

Confused, I ask, "Happy? I am supposed to be happy?"

"Yes, James Holloway, yes you are," God said, matter of factly.

A sudden burst of emotion hit me. What the hell was it talking about? "Am I supposed to be happy it's all over? How could I be happy with that? You know what I was going to do, the changes I was going to make! Things could have—"

Almost as if he was half-listening, God interjects, "Almost all souls are happy to relinquish the burden of their humanity, even the most prideful and determined of egos. The journey of death is one of freedom, forever beget of regret, a haven of true happiness. Why would you not be happy to die?"

Huh? Is God trying to tell me that I am actually dying wrong? Of course, I would manage to screw it up. 

"I…I…do not know. Am I just supposed to let everything go?"

"You misunderstand both my question and yourself James Holloway. There should not be anything there to let go. Do you understand me? You are dead, no longer human, just a soul. You are naturally free. Or at least that is supposed to be the case." God says in what feels like an exasperated tone.

Even further perplexed, I ask, "Supposed to be the case? Am I some sort of anomaly or something?"

God begins to shine exceptionally brightly, almost as if it is showing its frustration, "Yes, James Holloway, you are a particular occurrence, and you still responding to your human name is the very proof of this claim. You have amassed so much regret in the name of the human ego that you have developed an irrational desire to somehow make a worldly impact with the word of your humanity."

A pause ensues; perhaps he is waiting for a response. But, currently, I have nothing to say. 

A silent sigh escapes from God's lips, "This will not do. You cannot pass on as you currently are." 

What is he saying? Am I hopeless? Am I doomed to an existence spiraling in this neverending void? For the love of everything, I hope that's not the case.

Suddenly, God speaks again, "To this, I propose a solution," God explains, "You clearly wish you could have done more in your lifetime. Unfortunately, you are dead; the body that once carried your soul can carry it no longer."

Of course, I know this. My body is likely a headless mess, with my brain scattered all over the sidewalk. There is no way I am getting back in there.

"However, you could have another chance," the light said, its brightness intensifying. "There so happens to be that a vacancy has opened up, a body in which the soul no longer resides, but where another could enter."

"Another chance?" I asked, my interest piqued. "What do you mean?"

"Like I said: there is a body without a soul that you can inhabit. You can restart your journey, make a difference, and, hopefully, find peace with yourself."

If I had eyes, they would have lit up. Reincarnation! The light bulb was offering me a new life! 

"If there's any chance to do more, to be more, I'll take it," I said, not really thinking it through. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, but the journey will not be easy. Are you ready?"

"Yes, throw me right into this new body as soon as you can! I mean, I hope it's not too old. And I'd prefer if I was still in the United States."

The light seemed to chuckle, or at least, that's what I felt. "I will tell you this, James Holloway - who said you would be reincarnating onto this world?"

"Wait, wha—"

And then, just as how my life had previously ended, the lights went out, and my new life began.