I
was seated on a very uncomfortable couch in what appeared to be the waiting
area of a clinic; oblivious to my purpose of visit. Across the room was a
receptionist behind the counter, preoccupied with paperwork. I considered enquiring
why was I here, but dismissed the thought to avoid looking stupid. I was
absolutely positive, this was a dream.
I
scanned the room to discover what clinic it was but there were no clues. The
waiting area lacked any signboards or notices that are usually glued on clinic
walls. Neither were there any advertisement posters, nor any certificates for
doctor’s credentials. The waiting area was only decorated with indoor plants
and incomprehensible paintings of modern art. The curtains on the windows made
a futile attempt of keeping out the sun.
“Adrian
Mukherjee,” the receptionist called my name. “They’ll see you now.” She
gestured toward a door on the right wall.
‘Well, that was quick,’ I thought and walked
through the door.
To
my amazement, instead of a conventional medical room infrastructure with desk,
chairs and a plinth; the door opened into what appeared to be a small living
room with a big plasma screen television mounted on one wall and two reclining
chairs facing the TV. A glass of water was placed on a coffee table between the
recliners.
A
tall guy in a white suit sat on one of the chairs tuning up the television.
“Adrian,”
he turned to me with a smile when the door shut.
“I
am Abraham,” he stood up and offered a handshake that I took involuntarily. “It’s
so good to see you.”
“Likewise,”
I replied, perplexed.
“You
must be wondering what are you here for,” his smile still intact.
‘You think?’ I thought, but only smiled back obligatorily
and nodded in affirmation.
He
gestured me to sit in the other chair and I immediately followed. “I need you
to listen to me very carefully, and know that everything is fine.” He said, his
tone creeping me a little. I still nodded.
“Adrian
Mukherjee, you have died.” He finally said; his smile still on.
“I,
what?” I almost yelled, controlling my emotions to avoid drama. I found it
hysterically disturbing.
I
realized my face was giving incorrect signals as he said, “You’re smiling.”
“Of
course, I’m smiling. I am even more confident now that I am asleep and this is
a dream. I’ve had nightmares before, where I’m about to...”
He
splashed the freezing cold water from the glass on my face interrupting my
sentence.
“Those
nightmares were different; you’d wake up before you’d die.” He continued,
putting on his smile again. “This is not the same. You’re already dead.”
With
the water gimmick startling me, I should have woken up. That was convincing.
“You
had an accident on your way to work.” Abraham clarified.
“So?
What is this? The afterlife?” I stood up, “Is this heaven? Or am I in hell?”
“Everything
is fine, Adrian.” Abraham assured. His tone surprisingly calmed me down.
“Please
be seated.” He passed me some paper napkins and I tried to pat myself dry. “We
don’t call this any of those names.”
“And…
What about my family? Do they know? Are they okay?”
“The
paramedics have informed them and they are arranging for your funeral. They’re
grieving, but they’ll be fine,” he assured. “Everybody goes through this.”
“So,
what am I supposed to do here?” I asked.
“This
television will play some memories from your life. You’ll spend the rest of eternity
in this room watching how you’ve lived most of your life.”
That
brought me some relief. It’d be good to see my family & friends. “You could
use this remote to rewind or fast forward.” He handed me the remote.
“Can
I meet my people again?” I wondered. “Or maybe I have to wait until they die
too?”
“I’m
sorry, but it’s just you and your memories for eternity,” Abraham smiled and
stood up to exit the room. “You can only see them in your memories on this
television.”
“And if you ever need to talk to us, you can
see the receptionist outside. We are all here for eternity too.” Abraham closed
the door after him, and the television turned on by itself.
“Welcome
Adrian” the television displayed in bold letters in an intricate font. I reclined
in the chair, geared up to relive my memories; excited to see my friends &
family.
To
my astonishment, the television only played parts where I was either at my
office workstation or commuting to work. I tried fast forwarding, but it was
always just me, either on the go or sitting in my cubicle.
On
my way, I was listening to tracks from my favorite artists. I always desired to
attend their concerts, learn to play guitar and host a show of my own. At times, I read books or watched movies &
series when I rode public transit, hoping to travel to the exotic locations in
their stories.
At
work, I was always receiving requirements from my superiors that I reluctantly
fulfilled. There were times when I was rewarded. With every appreciation, I made
plans to celebrate my accolades with family & friends. There were phone
calls to my near & dear ones; at times making a plan, at times bailing on
them. However there was no presence of my family or friends in the video.
The video restarted from the welcome message
after it ended my last working day and played in loop.
After
a couple of repetitions, I stepped out to talk to the receptionist.
“I
think there has been an error. My memories video only shows me either working
in my office chair or commuting to work.” I complained.
“Well,
that’s not an error,” she defended. “It only shows you how you spent most of your life.”
“Well,
but then there’s so much I should have done more often.” I argued. “The artists
I listened to on my commute, I should have attended their concerts. The
vacations my wife and kids nagged me for, I should have taken them. The friend’s
reunions I kept procrastinating...”
“Sorry
Adrian,” the receptionist interrupted me, “but you had forty years to realize
that. I apologize, but nothing can be done about it now.”
