A Chronical of Life and Death
I
She started by explaining to them how they would die. Sometimes, she thought that selling deaths was all her job really was. It was always good to start with the death. That's what the customer was invariably looking for. That's what really sold them.
Having described how her client would die, Christall would then go on in a rather matter-of-fact way to explain other notable features of the life she was hawking: childhood joys and traumas (as well as any exceptional neurosis that would result from them), love affairs, major accidents, famous things they would achieve, and so on. She would then finish off by displaying a rather nice rendering depicting a trans-temporal image of the body to be inhabited, tilting in holographic increments through infancy, childhood, adolescence, and so on until, after ninety degrees, to old age and death.
She would then look at them levelly and ask them: so?
Christall had never lost a client yet.
They always said yes. Not a single time in her entire existence - although she existed in a place where there was, technically, no time - not one single time had she even bother to offer up a second life for perusal. The Poor Souls always snapped up what he had to give them.
Christall used to wonder if these Poor Souls were the only type. Certainly they were the only ones she had ever come across. They were so empty and forlorn, these Poor Souls, these clients of his, so light. Of course, there was no sight here, just like there was no smell, taste, sound, warmth, cold, or anything else at all, time even did not exist. And yet, were she asked to describe the Poor Souls, Christall would not have been at a loss for so much as a moment. They were symmetrical without having a shape. They were luminescent without having form or light. They were humble without having a self to humble. But, above all, they floated. Above all, they were light.
It came to her one day, as a revelation, that they were Poor Souls not because they were to be pitied, but rather because they were not rich. The Rich Souls - if they actually existed - never came to her. Her job was to provide the Poor Souls with a means of gaining weight - she assigned them a life in which they might be forged into something with shape and purpose. Existence here was not a life-affirming experience. Only life was such an experience.
Having described how her client would die, Christall would then go on in a rather matter-of-fact way to explain other notable features of the life she was hawking: childhood joys and traumas (as well as any exceptional neurosis that would result from them), love affairs, major accidents, famous things they would achieve, and so on. She would then finish off by displaying a rather nice rendering depicting a trans-temporal image of the body to be inhabited, tilting in holographic increments through infancy, childhood, adolescence, and so on until, after ninety degrees, to old age and death.
She would then look at them levelly and ask them: so?
Christall had never lost a client yet.
They always said yes. Not a single time in her entire existence - although she existed in a place where there was, technically, no time - not one single time had she even bother to offer up a second life for perusal. The Poor Souls always snapped up what he had to give them.
Christall used to wonder if these Poor Souls were the only type. Certainly they were the only ones she had ever come across. They were so empty and forlorn, these Poor Souls, these clients of his, so light. Of course, there was no sight here, just like there was no smell, taste, sound, warmth, cold, or anything else at all, time even did not exist. And yet, were she asked to describe the Poor Souls, Christall would not have been at a loss for so much as a moment. They were symmetrical without having a shape. They were luminescent without having form or light. They were humble without having a self to humble. But, above all, they floated. Above all, they were light.
It came to her one day, as a revelation, that they were Poor Souls not because they were to be pitied, but rather because they were not rich. The Rich Souls - if they actually existed - never came to her. Her job was to provide the Poor Souls with a means of gaining weight - she assigned them a life in which they might be forged into something with shape and purpose. Existence here was not a life-affirming experience. Only life was such an experience.
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hi guys could i please get some comments on this please