Soul Trip
“Welcome to Humanity. How long do you intend on staying?” The attendant greeted the first of a throng of visitors. He looked around to his left and right. He was seated at a desk, a glass wall separating him from the vacationers. There were hundreds of desks like this lined up along the wall of this huge building. Each desk had another attendant, and on the other side, a huge line of faces: some had come hundreds of times before; for some this was their first time. The first visitor in line looked at the attendant. “How long do most people stay?” “Oh,” said the attendant, “This is your first time then?” He reached under his desk and pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to the newcomer. He took it and began to peruse it, as the attendant continued to talk to a point straight ahead of him: “As you can see, the average time most visitors stay is about 5 philsecs. The Humans call this length of time 75 years. If you wish to stay longer, that could be arranged. However, you can stay no longer than 7.5 philsecs. That is a rule. Many vacationers choose to stay a shorter time. Some only stay one one-millionth philsecs, which is equivalent to about 5 hours for Humans—“ The newcomer interrupted him. “Why would they stay so short a time?” The attendant cleared his throat and looked down at the newcomer, annoyed by the interruption. “Some visitors only have a short amount of time to spend; some are scientists performing an experiment. You’re not a scientist, are you?” The newcomer looked at the ground. “Oh no, I just—I wanted to get away for a while… I think I’ll do the normal time.” The attendant looked back up at the air and said, “Number?” The newcomer rattled off “6754918.” The attendant typed in this information and a card popped out of his computer. He looked straight ahead and pointed to his left. “All right, if you go over to that desk, they should be able to take care of you.” The newcomer looked to the right and saw a desk labeled “Human Selection for Long-Term Visitors”. He started to walk that direction, but a voice stopped him: “Wait,” said the attendant, and handed him the card. “You’ll need this.” “Thanks,” said the newcomer as he left. The newcomer walked to the new desk, where there were about 20 other visitors. They were all looking up at the wall, where there was a screen showing about 40 Human individuals, with profiles listed below. Another attendant stood looking down at his computer, reading off information: “Next we have a Morris. Female. Beauty 7. Intelligence 4. Kindness 6. Sociability 8. This one needs a host in .0004 philsecs, or else we’ll have to terminate it. 500 dollars. Any takers?” As the attendant spoke this information one of the pictures on the screen grew and covered the screen. The newcomer could hear the visitors around him talking amongst themselves. “I’d prefer a smarter one.” “Well, she is sociable. That probably means she’ll have a happy life.” “Didn’t you say you wanted someone pretty?” “What’s the point of that, they all look ugly to me.” A few people laughed and nodded their heads in accordance. The attendant smiled and looked around at the group expectantly. “No one?” she said. “Remember, if we don’t get anyone by the time the baby is 9 months old, Human time, we will have to destroy it… Anyone?” The visitors looked around at each other. Finally, someone raised his hand. “I’ll have it,” he said. The attendant smiled. “Good,” he said. “Come up here; I need to see the card you got at the registration desk. And I’ll need the 500 dollars up front.” The newcomer watched as the visitor who accepted Morris walked up to the desk and handed the attendant his card and some money. The attendant spoke to him. “You’ll need to be back here at 9:30 a.m. this Tuesday. All right? If you’re late, you can’t go.” The visitor left with a new card indicating his Human. The attendant looked back down at her computer. “Now we have a Henderson.” Henderson’s picture grew to take up the whole screen. “Henderson. Male. Beauty 2. Intelligence 9. Kindness 3. Sociability 1. He doesn’t need a host for .005 philsecs. Anyone?” The newcomer looked around. Some visitors were shaking their heads. Someone laughed. “This guy looks like a serial killer!” Everyone laughed, including the attendant. The attendant said, “Actually, this type of personality tends to create successful computer operators. Heard of Bill Gates?” A few visitors smiled and looked at the picture with more interest. A visitor at the front raised his hand and walked to the desk. When the transaction was complete, the next picture grew on the screen. Several more Humans were sold. There was a Johnson—Female, Beauty 4, Intelligence 4, Kindness 8, Sociability 5. (No one bought her.) A Merchant was sold. Male. Beauty 4. Intelligence 7. Kindness 3. Sociability 8. The attendant pointed out that this personality made for a great politician. Three people vied for the sale, and the attendant ended up picking the visitor in front. As he excitedly ran up to make the purchase, a visitor next to the newcomer muttered “idiot.” The newcomer turned to the visitor and smiled. “What, you don’t want to be a the next Bill Clinton?” The visitor looked at the newcomer and said seriously, “We’re going to have this life for 5 philsecs. That’s a long time.” “So?” “So, I want to have fun. Medium kindness, high beauty, high sociability, probably low intelligence.” The newcomer looked surprised. “Yeah, but don’t you want to, you know, make Humanity a better place?” The visitor scoffed. “I’m not paying 500 dollars to work my whole life! I’ve tried the route of the rich businessman personality, and it sucked. All work and no play. I mean, we’re paying them for God’s sake! We should get to have fun!” The newcomer considered this. “Now, maybe if you can get a scientist,” said the other visitor. “They can improve Humanity, and they get to live exciting lives. But none of this business and politics crap. This life is supposed to relieve stress, not make it worse. Excuse me.” The visitor raised his hand and walked up to the desk to purchase a woman, a Jones, Kindness 5, Beauty 7, Sociability 9, and Intelligence 2. Some of the other visitors gave him odd looks. The newcomer smiled as he imagined meeting Jones, completely smashed, in some seedy bar. The newcomer said to himself, “I hope that works out for him.” The attendant looked down at his computer as a picture of a man filled the screen. “Michaels. Male. Beauty 7. Intelligence 6. Kindness 7. Sociability 7. A good, roundabout individual. Perfect for first-timers. And ready to go today, actually. Anyone? We really do need someone today, or else we have to terminate him. Anyone?” The newcomer thought, “Why not?” and he walked up to the desk. “Hi, I’ll take him,” he said. The attendant looked at him. “Oh great, you’re a lifesaver. They always get mad at me when I can’t sell someone. Can I see your card?” The newcomer handed the attendant his card and asked, “How much?” “480 dollars.” The newcomer retrieved the money from his pocket. “Here you go.” “Thanks.” The attendant took the money. “Actually, if you could step right through there, they can have you now.” “Oh,” said the newcomer. He walked toward where the attendant indicated. There were two double doors with a large sign above them that read “The Life Room”. The newcomer moved to open the doors, but another attendant stopped him. “Excuse me,” the attendant said angrily, “you can’t go in there.” “The attendant back there told me to come here,” the newcomer said, showing the attendant his card. The attendant scrutinized it. “Right,” he said. “You can go.” The newcomer walked through the doors. The sight that greeted his eyes was amazing. This room was even larger than the last, and it seemed to stretch up for hundreds of feet. Everywhere he looked there were beds, thousands of beds, each with a vacationer in it, hooked up to a main computer located in the center of the room. The newcomer began to walk toward the computer, where there were about a dozen attendants and scientists standing, reading the output of the thousands of vacationers. As the newcomer moved nearer, he could see the different parts of the computer, all labeled “LIFE”. The newcomer could hear the scientists speaking: “Right, we’ve got a guy in the south quarter about to wake up. He’s having a heart attack right now.” The newcomer could see an attendant rushing away from the scientist toward the left group of beds. “I think that’s it for now. Oh, wait, damn, someone just got shot. You two, bed 646.” Two more attendants ran off toward the right. The remaining attendant looked up and saw the newcomer. He began to walk toward him. “Oh, hello. Are you here to live?” “Uh, yeah… I was told to come in here.” He handed his card to the attendant, who read it through quickly. “Oh, this is your first time!” said the attendant excitedly. “Well, I hope you like it. We could wait for a bed over here to open up—” he looked over at the bed where the two attendants had just gone too, helping up a man who looked like he had just woken up from a particularly horrible nightmare, holding his arm as if it had been hurting him horribly. “But that might take a while. We should probably go over to the North—” The attendant stopped and looked at the newcomer, who was still staring, transfixed, at the vacationer who died in a shooting. “Oh, it’s okay,” He said reassuringly. “Vacationers are like that sometimes right after they… um, pass away, but they’re back to normal soon. Really, you’re going to have a great time. Why do you think people keep coming back?” The newcomer still looked nervous. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” And they continued walking. They walked for about three minutes until they reached a row of beds that were almost all empty. He indicated one of them. “Sit,” he said. The newcomer sat down. “Okay,” said the attendant, “I have to read you some stuff.” He took out a notebook and opened it. “Welcome to Humanity, long-term. You have selected to live the life of a—” The attendant looked down at the newcomer’s card. “Michaels. You have requested a lifetime of roughly 5 philsecs. If for some reason—” The attendant glanced over at the bed of the shooting victim. “you do not live the whole 5 philsecs, you will be partially refunded depending on how much shorter of a lifetime you have. Although Life Inc. has the best doctors available to care for its vacationers, Life Inc. cannot be held responsible for any injury, mental or physical, that may occur during your stay. We hope you enjoy your stay and that you return to Life Inc., division 587.” The attendant handed the notebook to the newcomer. “You have to sign here,” he said. The newcomer signed. “Okay,” said the attendant. “I need you to lie down. Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine. And you picked a great personality—I had one like it about 30 philsecs back, and I loved it. Oh, and you need to put this on.” The attendant handed him some odd kind of helmet with wires coming out the back. The newcomer strapped it on and lay down in the bed. “So,” he said, “how exactly will this work?” The attendant said, “Oh, I don’t know exactly how the wiring into Life works, that’s the scientists’ job. But basically, the other vacationers in Life can conceive a baby. It’s quite brilliant, really. The actions of the vacationers in Life are what makes it possible to bring in new visitors.” The attendant looked around at the room admiringly. “Anyway, at 40 days, the baby begins to have a working brain. There’s really no point giving it a host before then; there’s nothing to see or feel and it’s really very boring. But we need a host by the time the baby is born so there’s actually something in the baby, so it’s not just a little machine. You basically become the baby, and experience all of its thoughts and emotions; make its decisions. You get to live its life for about 75 years.” The newcomer asked, “Will I know, when I am the Human, about who I really am?” The attendant smiled. “Oh no, of course not. Actually, that’s the fun part. You get a completely different existence, and you can do with it whatever you want. The next 75 years will have no effect on the real world, only on your own person. Have fun with them!” The newcomer smiled, remembering the politician-hating visitor. “Okay, I’m ready.” “All right then,” said the attendant. “I’m going to turn on the machine now. In about 10 seconds you will be incorporated into Life. Can I have you count back from 10?” The newcomer heard the click of the machine. “10—9—8—” And he was out. The attendant left his bed to return to the main computer. Somewhere far away, a baby opened his eyes for the first time.
Copyright © 2004 Evelyn Canarvon |