What happened? I swear that I was surrounded by my children, grand-kids, and my wife grasping my hand. Why am I in an old cage elevator from the 1900's? I may find out what is happening when I reach my floor destination. I wonder if I died and I am going down to some bottomless pit?

But I know I lived a meaningful life of service and helped my fellow man. Could there have been something I didn't know I hadn't repented to in my old age? Did I have a bone to pick with someone? I don't believe so.

The elevator came to a stop, but the music only started to play as I left the old metal box and entered the floor. The music sounded like an old jazz recording played on a mono phone record player. Couldn't they get the sound system to play more elegantly with today's technology? Maybe it is for the atmosphere? The rug is red and spongy. It reminds me of most motels' carpeting back in the 70's. Maybe I have a receptionist waiting for me at the end of this hall.

It took 5 minutes to walk the lonely hall. Couldn't they have hung a picture of something along the way? I now am looking out at a vast corridor. As I continue through the end of the hall, the carpeting is gone and replaced with marbled tile and giant skylights.

I thought I was in a hotel of some sort, but now it looks like I am in some kind of train station by the architecture and the man at the center reception desk area before me. He seems sickly yellow; even the whites of his eyes are yellow, while his pupils are still green. Maybe he is having kidney problems. Is he on a healthcare waiting list or something? I better see if he is alright before I explore.

I feel a little unsettled as I walk toward him, and his stern face turns into an unsightly grin. I question, "Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to look for a phone to call you an ambulance? You really look yellow."

He opened his mouth and replayed, "No need, but I thank you for your genuine concern. I am here to greet and guide you on your way to your new place of work and reci-."

I cut him off and promptly pointed out, "Look, if you don't take care of yourself, how can you expect to help your clientele?"

His smile was strained a little before it naturally relaxed. He continues to speak, "Well, good sir, I thank you once again, but it is unnecessary as such things no longer matter. You will understand soon." When I blinked, he was gone, and as I began to look around for him, I felt an arm around my shoulder. I heard his slightly raspy voice becoming more velvety as if he would sing at any moment now.

"Now, my new friend, I know that you have many questions, but now is not the time for that. I have a job to do, and so do you. I could spare a moment to explain some things before orientation. But I guess this will help to boggle your mind some more." He held out a small wooden carved hand mirror, and I saw a face I hadn't seen in 74 years.

It was me. How did I become so young? Did I dream the latter half of my adult life, or was this a dream before passing on? Though everything feels so real. As the surprise is settling in, I notice that my complexion is slightly green. Am I sick, too? Before I could ask my many questions, the yellow man jumped, slid onto his table, and landed on his chair as it swiveled in circles. He stopped right in front facing me, spreading his disheveled hair, and shuffled the papers into an organized stack in front of him.

It was strange, but not only was his behavior queer, but the music seemed to become louder with an upbeat tempo of sax and horns playing now. Before I could even say a word, he held up a finger to get my attention and bring me to focus on him.

The opening beat of the intro of this song seemed to end, and he opened his mouth to sing what he wanted to say, "Now listen here, I know you have many questions that could never stop, damning up my ears. I don't care, cause this is only the introduction, so have some gumption. I know that you may have your many assumptions, and that is why I am here.

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You're dead! Your soul has left you. It is now in layaway before you are both reunited for judgment and heaven. But you're here for your new term of life. You're a body and a bunch of memories to work in this new, exciting deal.

You're to work, but in what I don't know. You will be doing a labor to pay for your heavenly favor. Just remember that you are to pay your taxed balance due. That is right; your tax balance is due.

He held the last note for 5 seconds as the music faded, and he sat back in his chair and put on a severe face.

I was stunned. I mean, his singing and rhythm were off. I gave a light clap out of habit if nothing else. I really don't know what I can say after that.

"Look, I know I don't have the best musical chops, but that did help to soften the blow right?"

"What? Sorry, the performance was so distracting that I didn't pay attention to the lyrics."

"What? I guess I shouldn't have listened to after life resources." The receptionist scratched the back of his head before continuing. "Look your dead. A walking body that will be given tasks or jobs to accomplish before it can be reunited with your spirit and become a soul and be judge for your place in Heaven. A heavenly task. Think of Hercules and his 12 tasks for example, but yours should be anything like his." The receptionist looked down back at his papers; flipping through them.

"Look, the your body is in its peek of condition and ready for your new trials. Here is your paper work, pamphlets, and small guide and your train ticket. You will get new ones for what ever number of tasks you will be given. So go on your way now. Take the stairs on your right and follow the signs."

In my dazed state I except the paperwork. Golden light left the envelope and turned into golden shackles that clamped around my wrists before fading away.

"Ah, sorry, forgot to mention that. Those were the binding seals that attach themselves to the contractore until the job is done. Think of them as weights or a curse to keep you from passing on unnaturally and being fairied back here force. No, go on. You don't have eternity, unless you do."

I look at my wrists. All felt normal, but I decided to just leave and walk to the stairs that led to the platform I was told to go to.

All I see is just more hallways with skylights. The metal beams are now covered in green rust. I wonder why this place isn't in better shape. I mean, as the afterlife, shouldn't there be no shortage of staff since so many people die every day?

It might be weird, but I can just see how things go around and then make my move after that. I mean, this is all just so serial.

I finally get to the end of the hallway and see another stout man with pale yellow completion standing behind a ticket counter before entry onto the platform is permitted.

"Paperwork and ticket, please," said the ticket taker. I handed him what he wanted. He took out the papers in the envelope and stamped them before putting them back. Next, he reached underneath the desk he was at and put them in a leather duffel bag. He punches a hole in the ticket and places it on top.

"so what now," I asked.

"Take this standard duffel bag as part of your care package. Give your ticket to the conductor to have it punched for the departure stub. Remember to keep track of that stub, for it is your ticket back. Oh yes, sorry. You're on the green line on platform 2."

"Uh, thank you. Have a nice day, I guess."

"Yah yah. Now, shove off and be on your way, corpse worker."

The platform was grand and wide for some reason. It looked like many different trains were placed along the railways. They even have a second level above the first floor. So, how do I find the green railway?

I look around and see another man in a petticoat with a briefcase as well. I stop him for directions. "Sorry, Sir, but I was wondering how to get to the green line?"

He looks at me with dead eyes before giving a tied smile. "I see a new one. Well, you will see a package on that wall over there. But really, just follow the signs, and you'll find the way of your destiny," said the tired man in the petticoat.

"Thanks. Have a nice day," I said. The man continued to walk away but twitched a little after hearing me thank him. Weird. Well, the signs seem straightforward.

I arrive at an old black and gold steam train with red passenger cars behind me. A young, beautiful pail woman stands at the ready in a blue conductor's suit and cap. Her blonde white hair drifts to her shoulders.

She really has an energy that the other people don't have. I guess I need to give her the stub. Maybe she can tell me what is going on in this madhouse.

I take my ticket out and hand it to her. She smiles, punches the stub, and says, "Welcome, adored Clarence Jones. You will be briefed when we arrive at our destination, so go on in and relax until departure.

I tried to talk with her a little more, but she wouldn't respond back so I continued onto the train a little crestfallen as she was the first genuine friendly face I had seen all day.