• Thursday, April 2, 2009
    3:30 pm

    I grabbed my vanilla latte, looking for a cup-sleeve. "Does Maria even know about the fair?"

    "I don't know if anyone's gotten to her yet," Becca said from the condiments stand, "but we've still got a couple of weeks, and she won't need that long."

    Of course, it being Maria, and her having a million tea cups on hand at any given moment, would never need advanced notice. I could call her up right now for a show in an hour, and all she would ask about was how big the booth was.

    I am NOT jealous. And besides, it's common courtesy to give plenty of time to allow an artisan to prepare for a show. Even a local one. I say as much to Becca.

    "I'll try calling her tonight and see if she wants to go, and all." I catch sight of my reflection in the windowed doors as we walk outside. Ugh. My lipstick is slightly smeared. Knew it! I hide it by keeping the cup by my mouth, in a state of perpetual drink. But I can't hide forever. The embarrassment freezes my feet and I stand there, a deer in headlights on the road of life.

    Becca has started talking about her own craft - painted coasters - and heading over to an umbrella-ed table. If I make it over there, I can fix it, maybe. I follow.

    Only then do I realize that my feet are frozen for real.

    I look down the second my world goes black.

    But wait a minute. I'm still conscious. Everything else is just... dark. Not cold or warm. Just empty.

    The change is so sudden, all I feel is confusion. My feet are free now, but my body is trying to figure out WHERE I should move, what I should do. Is this a hallucination?

    "Hello," says a rather ordinary male voice in front of me. And out of the darkness steps a man, kind of a banker-type, with glasses and a professional smile. A bit taller than me, but his unalarmed air frees my muscles and eases what would have been panic.

    "H-Hello." I take him in fully.

    "I'm Robert, and I'm afraid I need to speak urgently to you, Miss Gertrude Hankle."

    The man apparently knows my name. A dark world, but unthreatening. Now my brain starts to react properly.

    "What on earth is this?! What's going on?!" My voice is higher than I wanted it to be! Less authoritative than what I'm trying for. Am I panicking? Don't panic! Stay calm!

    "Miss Gertrude Hankle, I assure you that you are perfectly fine and the world is perfectly normal. I'm afraid I just need a moment of your time. Please just consider this a dream. Now-"

    "A DREAM?" I interrupt, but he interrupts right back.

    "-I'd like to verify that you are indeed, age 52?"

    Right, a dream. Of course. Of course! This must be. That's why I don't feel anything. Maybe I blacked out? How embarrassing! Never in my LIFE...

    ...Well, let's just play along. Robert is waiting patiently, letting me internally sort things out as if he is completely used to this sort of thing. It's quite calming, really. Makes everything so much more rational.

    "Yes, I am."

    "And your parents and brothers are still living, in good health?"

    "Yes."

    "And you have a few good friends and numerous acquaintances, who are all still living, in various states of good health?"

    I frown a bit, thinking honestly. "Yes, as far as I know."

    "And you have never known anyone who has died, or fallen seriously ill, or suffered any sort of traumatic experience?"

    My mind comes up with nothing to refute this. "That's true."

    It is. But what is he getting at? Robert's professional smile gains some warmth, as if pleased with himself. I tuck my arms across my chest, feeling apprehensive despite believing it all a dream.

    "Well, then, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

    Well, huh. Now that he's said that, I feel like someone's let all the air out of me. A dream guy giving me bad news! And he's not even handsome. Huh. It's kind of funny. I giggle a bit - it comes out a bit as a hysterical guffaw.

    "Oh dear. What could it be?" My smile is widening. I can't help it. I can't take this seriously.

    Robert's smile is shrinking. Only smiles of a combined width of this many centimeters allowed in this space - is what I think giddily to myself. "Well," he says, "it's simple and yet complex. You're a lifer."

    "A lifer!" I twitch my laugh into a horrified face. "Oh no! Like in prison?"

    "No." Robert is shaking his head and starting to turn away. "I mean like someone who gives and enhances life."

    "Oooooooh." I start nodding, at a grave-pace. "Well, I have been told I'm the life of the party." Robert gives me a considering look. I'm not fooling him with my faux-gravure. He thinks I'm silly. Well, this IS silly, but I don't want to hurt his dream-feelings. He motions forward and I come up a step behind him as we're walking in this strange blackness.

    "A lifer," he drones, "is a serious error on our part. A lifer is someone who extends and heals the lives of those around them beyond what it should be, slowing down the natural flow of life and ultimately either stopping it or preventing it from continuing normal - potentially permanently. Although the immediate benefits are obvious, in the long-term it is quite the problem for all those involved whether intentionally or not. Many an innocent victim has fallen to a lifer's natural oddity. But you are not the first, and we do have a few options open to us in order to n** this in the bud."

    "Whose this 'we'?" My, my. My dreams are getting so detailed and creative! Perhaps I've been reading a bit too much lately. This isn't exactly pleasant. And my coffee is surely growing cold.

    "'We' are the ones who govern the lives of people and generally look out for trouble spots. We protect the natural flow of the world and life itself." He looks so important while saying this, I want to pat him on the head. If I could reach.

    "Well, that sounds like a very demanding job! So many people in the world. How many of you are there? And what are my options as a lifer?" Perhaps I should turn to writing! Is this what having a muse is like? So easy! I could just ask it questions and it pops out answers, that I put on paper and then sell for millions of dollars. And here I thought writers struggled!

    Robert has slowed down to a stop and, in the similar fashion as Robert appeared, so now appears a strangely normal front door. "I'm afraid my job is just to check on you and monitor your life, Miss Gertrude Hankle. My colleague, Ms. Night, will be happy to help you as far as settling in your options." He opens the door, which has a doctor's waiting room on the other side.

    Ugh. This dream is not improving. Robert ushers me in and closes the door before I can thank him, and now I'm adjusting to a nice waiting room.

    A woman comes up through the nurse's window. "Miss Gertrude Hankle? Right this way. Another door opens, so I walk through. Is this going to become one of those maze dreams?

    And now I'm in a very nice office, like something a dean of literature might desire. There's sunlight streaming through windows, landing on a nice polished desk, surrounded by walls of books and with plenty in space in front of it, which is measurable by a lovely Oriental rug. There's a smokey, woodsy sent to the room. I'd say it was awfully masculine, but the only occupant is a tall female with blonde hair and dark skin, swivelling in her chair like she owns the place.

    She doesn't stand up. "Miss Gertrude Hankle, please take a seat."

    I pick a high-backed blue-velvet-upholstered one. I sink into it a bit, trying to relax.

    "As I'm sure you are informed, you've been discovered as being a 'lifer,' which is a serious issue for us. Furthermore, the fact that you have been alive for a significant amount of time indicates that your influence may very well result in serious if not permanent alterations on those around you. The gravity of the situation means we are a bit limited as to what we can do to restore the situation to more acceptable parameters, but we will nonetheless endeavor to act swiftly and with the greatest consideration of those involved." The woman pushes a ledger and pen towards me. I open the ledger to find a contract filled with very-small type.

    She smiles confidently. "Please sign on the last line at the bottom."

    I stare at it a bit, trying to make out the words, but apparently dream-writing doesn't look a thing like English. Of course, I should know this. I am creating it, right? How exciting! "Well, and what is this? What am I signing?" I can feel the chapters of my book being written in my head, sliding off my printer, filled with rich details. Where is this plot going?

    Ms. Night gives a tight-lipped smile. "It's an agreement on your part to solve this matter in the most direct and easy manner, as we have determined using our highest expertise and evaluations."

    This Ms. Night character is such an interesting woman! I bet she has lots of dangerous secrets. Something about her eyes. One of those old souls! Still, she is very serious about her job. I pretend to peruse the contract, not wanting to end the dream - because it might end once I sign the contract, or do something so final! - and trying to think of another question to help round out my book. "And will I have to do very much? How long will it take?"

    "You won't really have to do anything, really. And we will take care of it right now, in this office, within only a few minutes."

    Hm. Maybe the dream doesn't end here! I look up into her eyes - she's wearing glasses, just like Robert's, only they're slightly tinted - and smile back at her, grabbing the pen. I sign my name, just as I do when I finish one of my pieces. Quite artistically.

    And the dream isn't over! "Now what?" I beam, feeling excitement rise up inside me. Who else am I going to meet? What's going to happen?

    Ms. Night picks up the ledger, which I've placed back on her desk with the pen inside it. She looks down, staring at the contract. Her smile is gone as she studies my signature, then nods without looking up.

    "Well, basically, you die and we take care of the rest."

    And as I'm taking that in and deciding how to react to that - certainly my elation has disappeared immediately - I die.