A journey with Death, short story

Here is my first short story, I hope you enjoy.

Journey with Death

“If you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you.” ~Fredrick Nietzsche
“Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me” ~Emily Dickinson

I stared out the window as the world spun. The iron taste of blood. The sound of
Screeching metal. As the car wreck unfolded all around me I had a strange feeling of removal from reality. Time had slowed down to a crawl; my head was spinning. My vision faded to black.
I found my self in a corridor I could see a white glow emanating from the other side of the passage. After walking for what seemed like an age, I came to the room, I was blind in the glare.

I could make out a silhouetted figure.
‘Who’s there” I said. In response I got a loud ‘shhhh’. With that the light turned off. I looked around. The wall was pure white, and covered with dozens of copies of the same certificate; a man’s face with worker of the month inscribed on the bottom.
The man on the certificate was now sitting in a chair in the centre of the room. He had black hair and dull blue eyes. He wore a suit and had a pipe in his hand, in his other hand was a copy of The Republic by Plato and by his side on a table were two books; on top was The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and beneath that was a book simply called The Business Man’s Bible. He was crouched atop a red leather chair that would not have looked out of place in a lawyer’s office, and behind him was a large bookcase.

After a number of minutes the man opened his mouth “Hello Nate do you know who I am?”
Stammering I said “Death?”
The man chuckled and said, “Feel free to call me the Angel of”.
At the time I had no idea what to say. Sensing I was not going to speak he said, “We have decided to make an audit of your account, and revaluate your worth to the planet”.
I stared at him mouth agape not responding but hearing all the same, the man seemed to be annoyed by my silence. He took out a note pad and pen. “Sorry for this formality we just need to make sure our information is correct”. Again a silence followed.

“So your name is Nate’d Agilerhii”
“Yes but call me Nate please”
“ You live in 129 Flinders street, Melbourne Australia Earth?” he asked, I was puzzled at his inclusion of Earth but slowly nodded.
“Yes, well all seems in order,” He said whilst putting the note pad nonchalantly back in his pocket.
“Where am I?” I asked. The Angel took a puff of his pipe. My head was swimming with the implications of the conversation. The realisation was slowly sinking in that I was never going to see my family or friends again.
After a long silence the Angel said whilst flipping through pamphlet advertising a church called ‘Our Lady Of Perpetual Motion’
“Wouldn’t you say that your species is a blight? What justifies your place on the earth? Even mould grows penicillin.”
“Look at the art and technology that we have created; we have made such great strides. We are a civilised society unlike any before! We have travelled to the moon and strive for the next step,” I responded desperately.
“Pfft getting to the moon, and making art is nothing when, military troops are slaughtering civilians, and the rich live in opulent towers made of gold, buying ever more advanced methods of killing each other, whilst their subjects eat dirt to stay alive. You can reach the moon, but not fix the issues that blight your own planet,” he said whilst he was saying this the other worldly white of the walls seemed to flicker as if emphasising his points. I sat in silence not sure how to respond.

“Is there a god?” I asked.
“Depends on your definition of god” he replied.
“Is it Jesus?” I asked, at this a grey bolt sped down the white walls; this startled me.
“Whose the real god? They are all reasonably interchangeable. If you cut through the propaganda and false teachings you find common strings: you know don’t kill each other, don’t steal, don’t stir ones foot to seek a foe…”
“Hold on aren’t you quoting Shakespeare, with the whole foot thing?” I asked.
He replied with annoyance, “Are you a divine being? Well then shut up” He continued his speech “ As I was saying, all these common messages tie into the central idea of not being a dick.”

The Angel stopped to fill his pipe. Without looking up from the implement he was meticulously filling with tobacco he said, “We are going to go on a trip. I want to show you something” He walked over to a ladder at the side of the room leading up into the whiteness of the roof, “please follow” he said. At the top of the ladder there was what looked like a trap door. The Angel opened it and crawled out. I followed behind him. We came out onto the cement sidewalk of a fairly normal street. Looking back at the hole we had emerged from I noticed that on this side the trap door appeared to be a sewer grate. On the road, cars and trucks were going past. I noticed a moving truck owned by a company called “Prime Mover”.
“What is this?” I asked, confused.
“Why this is heaven,” the Angel said.
I saw a man drop a piece of paper on the ground already paved with cigarette buts.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Well what did you expect, pearly gates, harps and wings?”
“Well yeah” I said.
“Tell me, would you expect heaven to have crime?”
“No I wouldn’t”
“So you want some kind of unified utopia free of pollution and all crime and undesirables?”
“Well that would be good, yes”.
“That’s the thing about trying to set up a utopia; as long as there are humans there is crime, drugs, drinking and fighting. The only way to get rid of that is to get rid of either humans, or free will. That is why, so often, the dream for a utopia becomes a dystopia. Maybe the two ideas are the same…people shape both earth and heaven,” the Angel said.
I looked at my guide in disbelief. He raised his hand in the air and, with a showy gesture clicked his finger. We were back in the white room, the man seated as before. “Don’t get comfortable” he said. He rose to his feet in a swift succinct motion, he walked towards a large grey door that I was sure had not been there before. On the door hung a motivational poster. It was a picture of a kitten on a wall, with the text,” Gain hope all ye who enter”.

“God I hate going in here” the man said.
“Going where?” I asked my voice breaking slightly.
“Hell” he said, with none of the drama one would expect.
“What!” I shouted.
“Don’t worry, it’s not that bad for a visit. The worst part is getting past the damn receptionist”.
As the Angel entered, a middle-aged woman looked up, from behind large prescription glasses, obviously annoyed by the intrusion. A nameplate on her desk read ‘Sarah Buse’.
“What?” she asked. The man paid her little heed.
“I have an appointment, under Epiphany Fuel,” he said hardly breaking stride. “You will have to wait here” Sarah said obviously perturbed. The Angel showed no sign he had even heard her. He continued on through a large door on the other side of the room. I followed hot on his heels, readying myself for flames and sulphur. It was a huge room, and inside was a sea of office cubicles that stretched out as far as I could see. The room was filled with the sound of computer keys clacking, and murmured whispering. I noticed that a number of people, with grey hair and dead eyes were milling around, a water cooler, but the water bottle was empty. A few meters in front of that was, a printer, in bits and pieces on the floor. A man stood at the centre of the destruction scratching his head while the printer smoked and sparked. The smell of burnt popcorn hung heavily in the air. The only colour the numerous motivational posters.
“Millions of sinners trapped inside the worst torture imaginable” muttered the Angel
“Seen enough?” he asked I nodded hurriedly again he clicked his fingers.

We found ourselves back in the room.
The man sat down on his chair, “so why should you live on the earth? Lets look at some numbers shall we?” with out waiting for an answer the man began removing items from his pocket, as if searching for something, a well read copy of East of Eden came out, this was followed by a number of half filled packets of tobacco, there was a Hebrew to Latin dictionary, a book that simply had ‘Every Dog Has His Day Cart’ inscribed on its leather cover. Finally a remote control. Satisfied he placed all the items back into his supernaturally deep pockets.
The man pointed the remote and a large television slid out of what appeared to be solid ground; on the screen was a list of numbers.
“So this is your income”.
“What?”
“With that much money you could feed an entire African village”
“But…”
I was cut off “you strip mine the earth of its resources, you build and consume. You take the words of ancient goat herders as ultimate truth. You lose the common threads ‘love each other and stop being damned arse holes’. You hedge ‘love thy neighbour’ with the qualification ‘unless he’s gay, or poor, or a prostitute, or a Samaritan’, you look to the scripture to reaffirm your own inconsistent hateful behaviour, looking at these small select out of context verses without any bigger picture, or grain of salt on hand. All the while you’re building bigger and better ways of killing each other your own version of the law.”
“So tell me Mr Nate what say you?”
“I try my best with what I have, I don’t build the weapons, or do any of that, I try to be a good person, I go to church an…” With that I was cut off by his strong voice.
“Oh don’t do that. Don’t look to church as a show of your moral fibre, act sanctimonious and puritanical, one second, while you have your foot on the throat of lesser men.”
“I am a fine person, I love my neighbour I do all, that is expected of me.” Again I was cut off.
“What is of some concern is your life, you hold contempt in your own, mind though not actively aggressive you, passively niggle those around you.”
I was beginning to grow angry with this man “Doesn’t every one get angry, doesn’t every one harbour hatred?”
“Perhaps, perhaps they do, but were you to leave this planet behind, who would miss you?”
“My friends and Girlfriend, would miss me” I insisted.
With this the man turned around and pointed the remote at the television. It clicked on, a voice blared from the speakers, it was one of those shrill advertisements, he was advertising something called cave wall puppet theatre “I hate adds” The Angel said, when the ad had finished the picture turned to a woman besides a bed crying. I realised at once who it was. Seeing her there I wanted to comfort her tell her that I was ok. Her sobs filled the air.
“Turn it off”. The television went blank.
I turned to the Angel who was now scribbling furiously in his note pad.
“Will you send me back?”
“This little meeting is gradually drawing to a close, don’t you worry about that. Soon you will be ready to leave on the long commute, I just have one more thing to show you.” He said as he clicked his fingers.

There was a whoosh, and then I found myself in a bubble floating in the air, the man was in there with me, alarmingly he was still smoking his pipe.
Looking out into the distance I could see stars.
“What are we doing here?” I asked
“I’m showing you something,” the Angel said. He turned and stared into the inky black void of space.
I looked at him “How can I continue?” I asked.
“Please don’t be so dramatic. You will continue living the same way you have always lived consuming and consuming, going down hill being able to see the disaster ahead but not slowing down; like a car accident in slow motion.”
“Nate our business here is done. Management has surveyed my recommendation and made a decision, I hope you enjoyed your near death experience” the Angel said with a feint smile.
I was hardly listening to him at this point, but I suddenly felt dizzy like a sudden rush to the head, I felt my heart palpitating wildly like a brumby with a rope around its neck. I fell to the ground, then I faced death who was filling his pipe “That stuff will…kill you” I quipped, looking up at him. After I said that the Angel Laughed then everything went black. I opened my eyes, to harsh florescent lighting and the smell of disinfectant.