orb 2.4

Below is chapter 08 from The Orb Evaluation – each chapter is separated into the following sections:

04. decision

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You walk down the hallway. At the other end, a woman approaches. She smiles. You smile. She looks familiar, but you’ve never met before.

As you pass, a memory forms. Too blurry to visualize, but so striking, you stop walking. The sensation overcomes you. Your chest tightens. Your hands tingle. Your arm constricts. A pain runs up your ribcage. You drop to your knees. Face first. Hit the floor. Your body limp.

A rising feeling races from your head to your toes.

You’re lifting upward.

Floating.

“What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry. You’re only dying. It will be over before you know it,” says a voice.

Your blurry eyes refocus.

“What? Oh—no.”

You stand next to your collapsed body, still looking through what feels like your normal point of view. And still with your hands and legs and body, all intact, except you feel lighter.

“Am I—dead?”

A translucent sphere appears, levitating towards you. Its red center glows. A humming sound buzzes. Light rays emanate from its exterior.

“Yes, you are. The same time, same day, and same month. And like clockwork, I’m back again.”

“Are you an—angel?”

“I’m not an angel, but rather a traveler, navigating space and time, and helping life-forms along the way.”

You crouch down to look closer at your corpse, reaching your hand to touch your face, but your fingertips pass through it.

“In your new state of being, you won’t be able to interact with the living world. Only observe.”

You hear the words, but, to be sure, you keep swinging your hand through your motionless body.

“What—what happens now?”

“So far, everything is right on schedule. Once again, you died on October 17 at 2:16pm. The only difference is the year.”

“Again?—I, I did this before?”

“Well, not exactly. Yes, you lived before. Twenty-seven times to be precise, but not the same way each time.”

“I don’t understand. This, this doesn’t—”

“Let me rewind, so it all makes sense.”

The Orb ignites a molten red. The fiery energy field fills the hallway until all you see are shimmering color waves.

The energy field dissolves.

You stand in a delivery room. A woman holds a baby.

“When you were first born—”

“What? Who’s that? That isn’t my mother?”

“She was in this version of your life. Each time you lived, you had varying experiences. Different parents, friends, levels of success, wealth, and happiness. And on October 17 at 2:16pm when you accidentally fell into a creek and floated downstream, you died.”

“What? I drowned before?”

“Not only drowned. One time, it was a head-on collision. Then you died of cancer. You even drank too much wandering in a storm, and lightning struck you dead. But every time I arrived, and I asked you this question. Do you wish to live again, stay here, or pass on to whatever lies beyond death?”

“Every time you ask me that question?”

“And every time, you return and live again, thus beginning the process all over.”

“And then what? I just wake up as a baby. I don’t remember any of this?”

“You retain no memories of this life. The only constant is that you die on October 17 at 2:16pm. Could be at age 7, or age 70, there’s no specific timeline. But whenever it is, I’ll arrive to ask you the same question.”

“What if I die so young you can’t ask me?”

The Orb buzzes blue, scanning you from head to toe.

“My readings show it hasn’t happened yet, but it’s certainly a possibility.”

“So—what does that mean?”

“I can only surmise the universe knows that answer.”

You stare at the Orb.

Then peer at the mother holding you as a baby.

“So why didn’t I ever choose death?”

“Another good question. I can only speculate. Perhaps the dread of the unknown compared to the comfort of Earth?”

“But I’m dead right now?”

“You are, but you haven’t passed onward to whatever may be next. You’re at an interim between what’s beyond and returning to life. Since you’ve already lived, you know what life offers, but you don’t know what’s beyond life. Perhaps the worry of nothingness keeps you returning?”

“What do you mean? You’re saying nothing is beyond this?”

“I can not reveal what is beyond death. But I can further speculate on your behalf. There could be an afterlife? Maybe there’s a new plane of existence, a stepping stone to a new reality, or it could be absolute nothingness? The total absence of living, no consciousness, or any thought, or identity. The complete reverse of what life offers.”

You stare back. Without words. The idea of becoming nothing takes a moment to settle in, but as it takes shape, you feel isolated.

Alone.

Fearful.

“It sounds morbid, which always leads us to these options.”

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Option 01: Live Again?

The Orb flashes a white light. Your surroundings melt away to a dismal gray color, spanning infinitely in every direction.

Three floating cubes mold themselves into existence on either side of the Orb. One yellow. Another aqua. The last one, maroon. They move towards you. Inside each cube is a smaller floating cube. The yellow cube brightens.

“If you wish to live again, open the yellow cube and take out the smaller one. Hold the small cube in your hand and you will be reborn, having no memory of this life or this encounter. At the end of your life, I will return, like I always do, and ask you the same question again. 28 might be your lucky number?”

You just peer at the cube.

Silent.

Thinking.

Option 02: What's Beyond?

The aqua cube floats forward.

“If you want to discover what’s beyond life, then open this cube and grab the one inside. Then your ethereal self transports to whatever lies beyond, which may take many forms. Perhaps a wonderful afterlife or ultimate isolation? An alternate reality?

Maybe reuniting with long-lost relatives? The possibilities are truly endless.”

“Or nothingness? Like you said before.”

“Perhaps.”

You swallow the nonexistent air in your ethereal throat.

Thoughts rush through your mind.

Anxiety brews.

Even without a beating heart, it feels like it’s racing.

The unknown is a much bigger decision when confronted.

Is this why you never chose it?

“And now for your last option, my friend.”

Option 03: Stay Here?

The aqua cube shrinks, moving backward. The maroon cube glows, releasing an intense flowery aroma.

“Your very untimely death may leave you wondering what happens to your loved ones? Whether it’s family or a significant other. A son or a daughter. Or a very good friend. Whoever it is, if you move on to another plane, you must leave your personal life behind. But, if you stay here, then you can still see them.”

“Stay?—As in what, like a ghost?”

“Yes, you could say like a ghost. Many people prefer seeing their children’s lives unfold. Others do not want to leave their family and friends. The fear of losing these connections often produces great anxiety. Especially when you don’t know what’s beyond. Most people prefer familiarity rather than a gamble.”

“But what do I do? As a ghost?”

“Mainly observe. Watch your loved ones grow old. Over time, you can even learn to communicate with them through thoughts, or signs using telekinesis powers like moving objects or flickering a light.”

“But—they’ll eventually die. And then what—”

“They’ll pass on or stay behind like you. If so, you’ll see them as ghosts, traveling the in-between existence like yourself.”

“But if they pass on, then that’s it. I’ll never see them again?”

“Correct. But you can watch more than just your family and friends. And even though you’re limited to Earth, you can explore all the facets of this vast planet. It would take infinity to see it all, which luckily you have at your disposal.”