TheBanyanTree: Death - Another Mirage?

[Roger Pye]

DEATH -  ANOTHER MIRAGE?

   It had been a long day in the room, which was not a room but just an 
arrangement of ephemeral things, and the man, who was not a man but of a 
different species altogether, at the desk, which was not an artefact at 
all but merely a projection of one, was bored.
   "Next!" he said boredly. A nondescript balding rake of a man in 
broken-down shoes and ragged clothing detached himself from the 
amorphous mass just inside the doorway and shuffled up to the desk.
   "Name?" the receptionist asked.
   "Smithers - Bill Smithers."
   "Do you have any beliefs?"
   "I believe my brother Rodney is here."
   The man at the desk bent his head slightly - a moment later, another 
man materialised at his side - "Bill!" the newcomer cried joyfully - and 
"Rodney!" shouted the down-and-out - and they went off together.
   "Next."
   This one. a female,  was equally unnoticeable.
   "Beliefs?"
   "There is but one God though he/she/it has many, many names, and the 
ways to him/her/it are legion."
   The receptionist touched a key on his console - a panel in the 'wall' 
behind him slid open to reveal a vast concourse crowded with people in a 
variety of worshipful positions - organ music and warm, gentle breezes 
wafted overall. A person near the door turned, beckoned, and the woman 
ran forward.The panel closed after she had passed through.
   "Next."
   The man was, or had been, prosperous - expensive suit, pearl 
cufflinks, gold encrusted cell phone.
   "Beliefs?"
   "Every man - or woman - can be bought - it is only a question of 
finding the price," the rich man stated.
   Somewhere, a bell tolled ominously.
   "All right, so what's your price?"
   "You misunderstand; it is I who does the buying."
   Again, the bell tolled.
   "Not here, my friend, not here. There is only one Buyer though he/she 
has many, many names, and the ways to him/her are legion. What is your 
price?"
    "I've never been asked before; I - I don't know."
   "Highest bid then."
   A roll of thunder shook the chamber; the air became  hot. A panel 
slid open in a different wall - two men in dust coats strolled in - one, 
carrying a metal detector, waved it over the man in front of the desk
    "Lot 6945, in 'as is' condition, no reserve," he proclaimed - his 
colleague scribbled on a clipboard - they each took the 'lot' by an arm 
and led him out, protesting feebly.
   "Next."
   She was a girl about ten years old, blinded and in a wheelchair.
   "Beliefs?"
   Her voice was soft in contrast to his. "I believe you are tired and 
need a break - I have come to take your place."
   Trumpets sounded a fanfare, the room filled with golden light, a 
paean of praise rang out.
   "At last," the receiving angel sighed. "I thought I was stuck here 
for eternity!"


Woodcat