Afterlife. The promise of paradise. Fuck it, who needs paradise. Just afterlife. The word tells you everything. When you die, you do not actually die. You continue existing. You had so much fun that it has to become everlasting. Right?
Your carcass will be left on Earth; your soul, conveniently shaped just the way you looked liked during your life, will float to the eternal lands of Afterlife.
I am not describing any religious, whimsical archetype of heaven or paradise. I am proud enough to create my own little afterlife scenario. To demonstrate how admittance works, I present you a generic conversation. The protagonist walks up to a shiny, golden gate with a woman on guard; this woman should be the protagonist's mundane love.
I. Entrance
- Heaven seems prettier with you.
- Oh, shut up Abel.
- So what's the catch? I'm confessing my sins and you let me enter heaven?
- Right on the spot, as always. Well, if you want to enter, you gotta bend me over and take me from behind as you never did before.
- Ha! That doesn't sound appropriate, though I'm getting a sluggish boner here...
- So what are you waiting for? Take me and enter!
- No, wait a sec' hon'. This is a test. I knew it! Shit, you are the devil himself...
- Abel, your sexual need is encrypted in your DNA. Devil isn't. Heaven isn't.
- And yet I'm here at the gates of heaven.
- Well, I wouldn't say it's heaven...
- But I died. This is some kind of afterlife, and...
- Abel! These clouds floating around would never fuck me. Please, don't let me hanging here.
- I'm a bit disappointed with this afterlife thing. It's not like I don't appreciate the idea of having sex with you in order to enter, but still...
- So what the hell you expected? Saint Peter evaluating your life? Fanfares and angels accompanying on your way to heaven? Meeting your beloved ones? Chatting with Einstein about relativity? Bullshit! You just make that up down there. That life is nothing more than reproducing your species.
- Why on earth I would like entering heaven then? What's in for me?
- Actually, there is no option. You don't even have to fuck me... I'm just a little bored here. I have to let you in anyhow.
- Let me in, then.
- There you go.
- Oh! And what will I find?
- The transfer.
- The what?
- The transfer. Your performance will be evaluated, then you will receive a grade, and according to your total production, they send you back.
- What the hell? Did the Wachowski brothers write this shit? And what performance?
- Your performance regarding reproduction. I'm not familiar with your score, but I heard you weren't doing great...
- What the fuck is that suppose to mean?
- Well, you had no children, you slept with several women but failed to impregnate any. Probably you will be dropped somewhere in Europe. You know, ageing society and all...
- Okay just let me pass.
II. Transfer
Abel arrives at the transfer. His father welcomes him with a jolly smile.
- Father?
- Abel! You son of a bitch, you die and our lineage dries up as a puddle of semen on the carpet!
- I guess I wasn't expecting that, father...
- The hell cares, you whiny bastard! Now, you heard how it goes.
- What?
- The transfer.
- Oh, she told me something but...
- She knows it well enough. I'll pick you a country and a family. I hope you won't disappoint them!
- To hell with all this, father! I just died and you are sending me back to Earth just to reproduce?
- Right as you say.
- This is insane.
- Not being able to impregnate anyone is insane! When I got here I was transferred to fuckin' China! You know why? Birth control! They found out that I reproduced myself too frequently. So they barred me the next time by sending me to China! Ha, idiots! The next time I was here, they registered me as a unique predicament!
- That is downright wicked. Father, if life's sole meaning is to reproduce your genome, I would very much prefer to stay here and listen to your mighty saga on inseminating every country around the globe.
- Son, stop being a pussy. Life's sole meaning is indeed to reproduce your genom. But luckily our brains have evolved a lot, making us capable for doing a little tinkering between two intercourses. Science, arts, religion, politics, sports, some prefer fighting in wars; you are spoilt for choice when it comes to filling up your free time. Just keep in mind what your initial goal is.
- So where is the end of the cycle?
- Until our free time activities exterminate our species.
- And how will I remember my goal?
- You won't. Your memory is erased. You'll start over. Format C, if you know what I mean.
- Father... I'm disappointed.
- Oh quit griping, you miserable ass! You've always taken shit too serious. Okay, let's see where they send you...
- They? Who are they? Are they any similar to some deities?
- No time to explain that son. Your ticket has arrived.
- What does it say?
- I can't tell you that. Now, close your eyes and start spinning around...
- Really?
- Nope, I was joking. Stay put. I'll touch your forehead, and then everything will reset.
III. Arrival
Hospital corridor, young man is sitting on a fridge-like object. Nurse rushes out.
- Young man! You are a father now! He was born just a few minutes before!
- And my wife?
- She struggled a lot, but feels fine. Want to see them?
He wants, surely. He never knew how it will feel like. He rushes in the hospital room, his wife sleeping, and a tiny little package, neatly covered with blanket next to her.
- There you are!
- Sir? Sorry to bother... but what would be his name?
- The same as his father. The same as his father...
