He was distracted from these sad afterlife reflections by someone’s soft coughing behind his back. From a surprise, the spirit of Artem Sergeyevich made yet another somersault, turning towards a source of the sound. Directly in front of him a beautifully looking – perhaps even to a degree of how Artem Sergeyevich thought about himself some thirty corporal years ago – a young man with snow-white wings was standing.
“Ghm!” perplexedly said Artem Sergeyevich.
“And kind spirit to you as well!” the young man said in reply.
“Who are you, actually, and what’s your name? And why do you creep towards me to silently?”
“You can call me as the Guide of the Other World”, the young winged man replied kindly. “I was sent here to help you to orient in these, so to say, unusual for your circumstances, and further to accompany you through all necessary instances.”
“Indeed! Circumstances are truly unusual,” agreed Artem Sergeyevich. “I have died, damn it! And I had thought that I would live forever! It’s absolutely unusual!”
“In the highest, that is, in spiritual degree,” smiled the Guide. “Not every day we are given a privilege do die, isn’t it? Though some people began to consider that they have been dying since own birth… So, are you prepared to move further?”
“And where shall we go, I would like to know?” Artem Sergeyevich interrogatively raised his eyebrows. “Don’t I need to say a final goodbye to my relatives? I, by the way, had two children and a wife in this former world. It’s very unlikely that they will rejoice of hearing about my sudden death.”
“I am afraid, Artem Sergeyevich, that they won’t be able to see or hear you any longer. If only through dreams – but you will have to ask for a special permission in the Department of Dreams in that case, and at present times it’s seldom given to, so to speak, temporarily and untimely resting in peace ones. Therefore, we should move forward together, there is no other way. Especially when control periods for passing through necessary social instances are strictly limited. So, are you ready to go with me?”
“Well, if I have no other options left…” the spirit of Artem Sergeyevich made a helpless gesture with its translucent hands.
“You had a broadest free choice when you have lived in so habitual to your physical world, Artem Sergeyevich. And now we must accurately follow well-established procedures.”
Having that said, the Angel, who has called himself as the Guide, raised own covered with feathers hand, drawing a spiral in the air. With each newly made pass of his hands, this spiral was becoming brighter and more visible and finally turned into a gracefully looking sparkling tunnel.
“Transition between the worlds,” explained the Guide. “Some people see it by themselves when they leave own bodies. Let’s go,” he continued, having taken Artem Sergeyevich by hand.
Two figures – one of a casting golden light Angel and a gray-brown figure of Artem Sergeyevich’s spirit – bravely stepped into the tunnel. At first, something pinched in the eyes of Artem Sergeyevich, then started to sparkle, then sparkles began falling down, his head started spinning and from what he has seen somewhere inside these tunnel labyrinths he finally lost his consciousness…
***
“Scatty one you’ve got this time. He even didn’t manage to pass through circles on his own.”
“Few are capable of doing that now. Therefore, they send us more and more often for them, you know that well.”
“And I should guide a suicide spirit tomorrow, his term of near-earth tortures has just come to an end, and term for spiritual pain has just started.”
“That’s not a big deal. I was once given a mission to guide a couple, who for the sake of eternal love, as our opponents inspired them, jumped together into the industrial tank, filled with sulfuric acid. You’d better not see, how their souls looked like when their term of Transition has finally come…”
“Cranky ones.”
“Well, they are not the first, and surely not the last.”
“Looks like your ward got recovered at last. His consciousness resonates from a surprise on awakening, I can feel it even from here.”
“Yes, precisely. Guide him to estimators. Man, he will be surprised.”
“Well, till our next meeting in the sky, brothers.”
“So long.”
With these thoughts, by means of which he communicated with his colleagues from department and hierarchy, a young white-winged man went with a fast pace to Artem Sergeyevich, who was lying on a lawn’s grass of emerald color.
“It’s good to see that you have finally regained consciousness,” he answered with a smile to a spirit of Artem Sergeyevich, which was drowsily looking around. “I had to lull you somewhere in the middle of our journey, because due to the nature of your earth affairs the route, that we were obliged to take, as well as inhabitants of these other-worldly tracks were not the most pleasant ones,” he added quietly.
“I… what… where… oh!” barely managed to mutter our hero.
“You are in a special place now, on fields of restoration and healing. But we need to continue our journey because we are already somewhat out of a required time schedule. By the way, while you were resting, I have already managed to bring all necessary informational materials to the department of returned souls, including your family tree, data on your lifetime affairs, habits and hobbies, merits and demerits. Therefore, at present time we, my dear fellow traveler, need to proceed to estimators in bookkeeping department, and after that – vast waiting halls will wait for you for a whole million of earth years. As writers of your world said – ‘One million of years before doomsday’… or the end of darkness. It depends on your final score, calculated by estimators in the bookkeeping department.”
“What sort of… bookkeeping department? Is that a business of… sorts? Sales of tunnel attractions or souls?” muttered half-asleep Artem Sergeyevich.
“Oh, by no means,” the Guide burst out laughing, “no sales at all! Our accountants neither buy nor sell human souls, don’t you worry. They are engaged in the estimation of their quality because only qualitative souls will be taken into account. Well, and how qualitative is your soul by our standards, you will learn soon enough. I am, by the way, will be interested in knowing that as well,” the Guide smiled politely.
With these words being said, he took a soul of Artem Sergeyevich on his hands, made a jump from the ground and soared up into celestial heights.
***
“Good afternoon, Rael,” smiled the young white-winged girl in a celestial-blue dress. “Newcomer?”
“And in a first-person,” answered the Guide, lowering Artem Sergeyevich on a habitual to him soil, which had a shape of shining in bluish shade floor. “Registration department must have already sent you his data, check incoming messages. You calculate and estimate him now, and I will be waiting in a corridor, all right?”
“Certainly,” smiled the estimator, who obviously liked Rael. “So kind of you to carry him by yourself. People have become noticeably weaker recently. Unlike the times when the leader Jesus personally descended into their world…”
“By the way, I wanted to ask that a long ago, – does your program takes it into account? Well, weakening of human spirit?”
“It does,” Angelina smiled. “But that’s a minus, as you certainly understand.”
“I do…” Rael answered lingeringly. “Well, I am waiting in a corridor there. Come in, Artem Sergeyevich, take a sit.”
“Take a seat!” repeated the accountant and moved up a chair to Artem Sergeyevich, who unwillingly sat down. “So, let’s take a look…”
Within ten minutes the girl diligently typed something on the input device of her visor, and then uttered: