The Hades Connectionby Gabriel S. Timar |
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Chapter 1
part 2 of 2 |
“I’m sorry,” I said. “As I have no defense, must I capitulate?”
Arabella sounded annoyed: “No, Mr. Pike, don’t you ever talk or think about capitulation. Your miserable body may be dead, but your soul is still free and you own it. You have your ability to reason and create, and nobody can take that away from you. If you capitulate, you give it all up. In Hades, Ltd., by executive order, we never give up.”
“Aren’t you challenging me?” I asked.
“Are you trying to trap me?” she retorted.
“Of course, I am,” I replied. “You may be the Devil’s own daughter, my dear, but I believe I’m the best lawyer in this miserable third dimension. Perhaps it would be a feather in my cap, if I could trap you.”
“I should have known you’d try something like that,” she said in a resigned tone. “They warned me about you. You’re just as impossible as Julius; he always tries to trap me into saying something foolish.”
“Does he often succeed?”
“None of your business,” she snapped.
It seemed to me that no matter where I went, I always bumped into the intriguing females, the ones with a fiery, combative temperament. I like them this way.
“Anyway,” she continued, “let’s not waste any more time. I’m here because the boss wants to see you.”
“That’s not going to be easy,” I replied. “You see, I left my body behind somewhere in the first dimension. I feel naked.”
“We can easily remedy that,” she said. “I’m here because the firm is considering hiring you as a legal advisor and negotiator. The pay is standard P.5 level, and the fringe benefits are reasonable. Are you interested?”
“Well, my dear,” I replied in a calm demeanor carefully controlling my elation, “I don’t dare to ask what currency I would be paid, or what the working conditions are. However, if I ever want to stop staring at kaleidoscopes, I must consider this offer seriously. Yes, I’m very much interested.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” she said. “This is an invitation for an interview only; it is not a firm offer.”
“Okay, I understand,” I replied. “What’s next?”
“First we get you a new body,” she replied.
This was getting interesting. If my recollection was correct, I must have died on Earth under mysterious circumstances. Instead of having my body cremated or buried, my soul judged and sent to Heaven or Hell, I was going to get a new body, and I would be negotiating for a job with Hades, Ltd. It was weird, but encouraging.
“What kind of body am I getting?” I asked.
“Whatever you want,” came the reply. “I am authorized to offer you a grade B body.”
“What would I look like?”
“Well, Mr. Pike, your idea of life, body and soul is still that of an Earthling in the first dimension. Therefore, the people, the planet Mammon, our headquarters, and Mammon City will look like Earth to you. Another type of body like an Andromedan’s or a Valerian’s might be repulsive.
“Some people claim that the planet Mammon is not real, only an illusion. In fact, others suggest that the whole third dimension is an illusion. I don’t know for sure, but what I see of it looks like my native planet of Sirius. I’m sure that to you the third dimension will be like Earth, and the technology will be comparable.”
“That will be interesting,” I remarked. “Have you seen Earth?”
“Many times,” she replied. “The people look and act rough for my liking. You should know that Earth used to be one of our principal sources; we got the bulk of our souls from there.”
“I never thought that most people went to H... Hades,” I mused.
“Let’s knock off the chitchat,” Arabella interrupted my thinking. “What kind of body do you want?”
“Well, something like the old one would do nicely, although it would be good to have a little less fat around the waistline...“
“Done,” snapped Arabella. “The old one minus ten pounds of fat.”
“Make it fifteen, if you could,” I remarked meekly.
“Okay,” came the reply. “Do you want any special physical characteristics, motor reflexes or any other built-in features?”
“I never really thought about it,” I mused. “Now that you mention it, I’d like to have a better forehand topspin.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“As a proper Canadian, I would like to be bilingual,” I said. If I had a face, I am sure I would have blushed. “Could you teach my new body to read, write and speak French?”
“No problem, Mr. Pike,” Arabella replied, “Parisian or Quebec version?”
“How can you ask a question like that?” I asked indignantly. “Parisian, of course!”
“No sweat,” Arabella stated. “You will be bilingual.”
“That’s great,” I exclaimed. “Now I could get a job with the civil service or become a steward on Air Canada.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to do that,” she continued. “How about your sexual organs?”
I was surprised. Although it was like going to a department store shopping for a new body, I always thought that sexual organs were off limits, not discussed. “I think the old one was okay,” I said uncertainly. “After all you are a female, Arabella, suit yourself.”
“I think not, Mr. Pike,” she replied firmly. “Reason number one: I have no intention of going to bed with you. Junior staffers like me should not have off the job contact with executives. Number two: I consider myself as being part of the minority of the females who like it small. Now how about your sexual organs?”
“Okay,” I snorted, “leave the damn thing alone.”
“As you wish,” she agreed. “No change to sex organs. How about clothing and other appliances?”
“I’m sure my old terrestrial wardrobe was okay,” I replied, “but I always wanted a pale green suede suit.”
“Do you want matching shirt, tie and shoes?”
“Of course,” I agreed.
“How about a car?”
“My old Fiero will do,” I said, “I never paid much attention to my car. It exists to take me from A to B only.”
“Done,” she replied. “What kind of apartment would you like?”
“A bachelor apartment would be alright,” I said, “TV is not essential, but I would like to have my hi-fi and my tapes of classical music. Oh, by the way, I would like to have an Internet connection as well.”
“No problem, Mr. Pike. You are very easy to get along with,” she replied. “It is surprising that you were satisfied with almost everything you had, yet you committed suicide. Why did you shoot yourself?”
There are times in one’s life when it is prudent to be a little bit mysterious.
“You said you knew everything about me,” I replied. “Why don’t you look up your records? The answer must be there.”
“I did,” she said, “but the computer produces a rather jumbled printout. An upstanding terrestrial police officer, Inspector Chris Bailey, claims that you were murdered, but the coroner insists on suicide. We don’t really know what happened.”
“You’ll never learn it from me, Arabella,” I said, carefully concealing the fact that I did not know how I died either.
“Your ex-wife thinks that you were murdered by the circumstances, although it was not your own finger pulling the trigger. It is hard to comprehend.”
“Jo-Ann always had a weird streak,” I replied. “I’m here, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“If you say so, Mr. Pike,” she said in a tired tone. “By the way, we may proceed with your transfer into the new body at any time. Are you ready?”
Although I had always been a coward, the idea of soul transfer did not frighten me at all. As long as I was dead, I thought, nothing worse could happen to me.
“I’m ready, Arabella...”
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” she continued. “The transfer is not pleasant, but there is something you could do to make it easier and less painful.”
“Please, tell me.”
“Each soul management firm is restricted by law to one local transfer team only. Each specialist team has its own unique operational trademark. Ours is the letter O. When the transfer begins, the letter O will appear in your field of perception and remain there until the process is completed. If you block all other thoughts and concentrate on the letter O, the transfer will be quick and easy. Otherwise it may be long and difficult.”
“Let’s assume I would not want to be transferred. Could I stop it?”
“Not likely, but you could make it very difficult,” she replied. “If you concentrated on the trademark of another transfer team, the job would be hard, painful and time-consuming. Some weaker teams may even abort the transfer. The Heaven, Inc. group is known to quit if you fight them hard enough.”
“What is their mark?”
“The letter X is theirs, M belongs to Nirvana, Seventh Paradise uses S, and K is owned by Red Star. However, time is flying, and the boss is waiting. He will tell you everything you need to know. May we start the transfer?”
“Go ahead,” I replied, “see you in the body next time.”
The presence of Arabella slipped away, and the kaleidoscope slowly returned. I had the strange feeling of loneliness, but the hope of returning to the land of the living gave me strength. The colors of the kaleidoscope begun to swirl, slowly hardening into a circle. The thoughts drained from my being; I felt like a vegetable.
“Concentrate,” I said to myself, “concentrate on the letter O...”
The swirl of the colors started speeding up. There was a mass of purple in my field of perception, pulsating and apparently trying to maintain the shape of a circle.
“Concentrate, George, concentrate,” I urged myself.
The background of the circle begun to darken; the colors of the ring were getting lighter. The circle slowly turned white against a black background; purple lines swirling in it.
“Letter O, letter O.” I forced myself to concentrate so hard that my whole being was pulsating from the effort.
The interior of the circle cleared and in my field of vision a white letter O appeared on a black base. I did not dare breaking my concentration. A painful, piercing beam of white light bisected my field of perception, and suddenly the circle dissolved into a familiar painting of a seascape. My concentration broke, and I found myself in strangely familiar surroundings.
The room was a combination of my old bedroom and the parlor complete with Jo-Ann’s painting of Portugal Cove. I was lying naked on a large bed. I had a body again!
Copyright © 2004 by Gabriel S. Timar
