She jumped out of the bed, sliding her notepad and pen in her back pocket. “What the hell is going on?” she asked herself, as she walked up to the table, where now set a perfectly placed setting of tea, and lemon-blueberry scones. She picked up a note resting by the teapot and read: Dear Beatrice, this morning greets you with sunshine and blessings.
She stared at the note, surprised by its personal nature and the corny tone, reminding her of a recent stay at a meditation retreat. What the hell? Surveying the tea set, decided to pour herself a cup of tea. The sweetest waft of chamomile nearly dropped her to her knees. She took a sip and sighed, best she ever tasted. “This place must be heaven.”
“Anything new this morning?” Bruce asked.
“Alexei and Sandeep are gone,” she said.
He looked back to find them missing, as if they never existed. Many disturbing thoughts crossed his mind – they died, or they were removed to be inspected or tortured. He had no words for Beatrice. “I don’t know,” he muttered.
Melody, Brian, and Anna stirred in their beds. One by one, they sat up, readjusting to their surroundings. “Damn, still here,” Melody said.
“Bruce, how long does this show last? You said it was only going to be three hours?” Anna asked.
A sharp light cut through the metal wall, and an opening appeared to another room. They looked at one another, not sure what to do. Bruce summoned up his courage and stepped through, with Beatrice and Melody at his heels. Tentatively, Brian and Anna followed.
“Welcome. Welcome. Please come join us,” a man greeted with an undetectable accent, wearing a Nordic ski sweater. He had dark hair, greying at his temples and greasily slicked back. “How do you all do?” He pressed a hand to his heart and gave a slight bow. “My name is George. I hope you had a pleasant rest.”
“Yes. Fine,” Bruce replied. “We’re much more curious as to where we are.”
“Ah Yes. I know your kind. Questions, questions, questions. Can’t keep from questioning everything,” George replied. “You and your friends are in Godorah.”
“Godorah,” Bruce repeated.
“No. GodoRAH. There is emphasis on the RAH! We have a lot of RAH around here,” George replied with enthusiasm.
“Rah, rah, rah,” Brian muttered.
“Exactly Brian! Rah! Rah! Rah!” George exclaimed, slapping him on the back.
As Brian glanced around curious as to how the stranger new his name, Beatrice posed the next question. “I never heard of Godo-RAH.”
George pressed his fingers together and provided a devilish simper. “I believe the translation is the state of God, or God State.”
“The God State?” Melody questioned.
“Yes, yes. It’s about the size of Lichtenstein.” George rubbed his chin. “Or Luxembourg. I get the two confused.” He wrapped his arm around Beatrice’s shoulder. “We’re a small state. We don’t need to be large. Our population flows in and out as the tide.”
“So we died then?” Brian asked.
George paused. “Died. Die. Such a funny word. So many ways to die. So many are dead and don’t even know it. Let me ask you, why do you feel you have died?”
Brian studied George, his sly grin and greasy hair. “Oh, I don’t know. The shuttle crash, this strange place. This place is purgatory, the place where we are judged to go to heaven or hell.”
George smiled broadly. “Alright. If that’s what you want to believe. Hungry? Please, come with me.”
#newage #Godstate #spirituality #humanconnection #collectiveconsciousness #comedy #satire