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Heaven (standard:other, 1610 words)
Author: AzezelAdded: Nov 08 2005Views/Reads: 1753/931Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A breif precis of what happened when I went to Heaven.

I was eighty when I died in 2063 – but I was nineteen when I awoke in
Heaven. This was a surprise. The awaking I mean - being an atheist I 
had not counted on an afterlife, though as my death drew closer I had 
succumbed to a little hope. 

“Morning.” said the chap standing next to me, “I'm Jericho. ‘S'my job to
get you settled in. Welcome to Heaven.” “I, er. Well, I didn't really 
believe in an afterlife...” “We all make mistakes mate,” Jericho put 
his arm around my shoulder and led me forward. “I didn't go to church 
or anything,” I said. “But you weren't a dick. You weren't were you?” 
“Well, I tried not to be, I suppose.” “Well then. That's about all we 
can ask of a man, no?” “Really?” “More or less.” 

Well there you go, learn something new every day and all that. “So
what's Heaven like?” I asked. The place didn't look like it was 
supposed to. No walking on clouds, no harps, no pearly gates - just a 
big clean city with tall Victorian buildings. Everyone was dressed in 
eighteen-eighties clothing, but with curious nods to more modern 
styles. I rather liked it. 

“Heaven's great,” enthused Jericho, still leading me forward with his
arm around my shoulders, “You get to do whatever you want, forever. And 
everything is just as you want it. Everyone sees Heaven differently, as 
their perfect place. For you this is a great city, but just through 
there is a peaceful park – and if you want, you can go to the river 
docks, and climb aboard a steamer to take you first class to an exotic 
land.” “Cool.” “So, what do you want to do?” 

I thought for a moment, “Well, I've always fancied myself a writer, but
y'know my prose never really grew above the mundane and workmanlike. I 
bet with eternity to practice I could be good though.” “Sound's like a 
plan!” Jericho steered me sharply up a side street, “We'll head over to 
the Writer's Quarter, get you set up. You fancy a studio flat? Course 
you do, I know my man. Now, I know your handwriting ain't up to much, 
so how about a computer with workable voice recognition? No, better yet 
how about a couple of typists, yeah? Oh, and we'd better get you a 
torrid love affair for inspiration. How's that grab you?” “That's my 
kind of plan!” “Great. I'll tell you what, since we're in the Writer's 
Quarter you've got to see this. I was here this morning and Shakespeare 
left a note out for the milkman. Well I don't mind telling you it 
brought tears to my eyes. The beauty, the absolute truth, the 
simplicity of poetry in prose. It made me weep, and I'm an angel. 
That's what five hundred years of honing your craft will do. Now about 
your flat – there's a good one I know, you'll be living above Earnest 

“Actually Jericho,” I said, halting our progress, “Thinking about it, I
don't think writing is really for me. What else have you got?” “Ah, 
looking to try something new are you? That's m'boy – education never 
stops, even here.” “Yes! That's it, education. I've long fancied myself 
a bit of a scholar.” “Mm. You're a man of science, so let's get you 
down to the university.” Jericho pointed us in a new direction and we 
set off. “So, what's life like at the University of Heaven?” “Mate, you 
will love it! Why, I believe tonight Professors Newton, Heisenberg, and 
Einstein are beginning a series of lectures on how to marry classical 
and quantum mechanics. And tomorrow Dr. Hawking is leading a field-trip 
to a black hole.” 

I stopped again, “No, that's not right.” “What's the problem?” “This is
Heaven. I shouldn't be thinking hard mechanics, this is a place for the 
spiritual, the philosophical.” “Ah!” said Jericho, “I like the way you 
think. We'll jump on this tram and ride down to the Gardens of 
Serenity.” “Those sound nice.” “My favourite place you know. We'll get 
there just in time to join Jesus and Mohamed for their peace vigil.” 
“Together?” “Well, yeah. Why not?” “No reason.” “If you'd prefer we 
could wander down to the mirrored pool. Lao Tzu often goes there to 
read aloud from the Tao Te Ching. He reckons that by reading, and being 
asked questions, he can further his own understanding of the cosmos, as 
well as that of his audience.” 

“Actually mate, I was never that spiritual in life.” “We noticed.” “Um,
well, if that's okay.” “S'cool.” “Well, yeah, so I was thinking more we 
go down the philosophy path.” “Yeah the god-botherers can get a bit 
heavy sometimes can't they. What say we shoot over to the debating 
society. I picked up a season programme before going to collect you, it 

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