When Spirits Beckon

When Spirits Beckon, Part 2, Chapter 11

3 February, 12.04pm

As he was falling, Fred couldn't help chuckling with perverse pleasure at the firm's quandary. Would the management resort to panic-selling once the trading circuit breaker resets with the midday break or would they actually listen to his advice, which he had couched as a demand?

It didn't matter either way; whoever had first avowed that misery loved company was absolutely right. This was the best he had been feeling in months, though it was a pity it wasn't going to last for very long.

The pavement was rushing up to him, and the faces of onlookers were all the same; stunned at the fact that he had jumped anyhow. What did they think – that he was only kidding? Of course he was going to jump eventually. But the added bonus of being able to screw the firm royally, leaving behind a massive headache there as his epitaph, had been a very nice last touch. Pity he hadn't been able to see Mr. Smyther's face when he had buckled under the pressure of Fred's demands and was forced by the unseen crisis negotiator to issue the buy orders; it must have been a priceless moment for many still slaving at the firm.

Well into the freefall, Fred considered closing his eyes, but immediately changed his mind. This was his once-in-a-lifetime experience and he wanted to take in every single detail during the plunge. He wanted to see the pavement rush up close as it smashed into him, feel and hear the thud of his body and the sickening splat as his bones crunched and exploded out of his skin, splashing blood all over. He wanted to know if death was instantaneous, he wondered if all sensory input would be cut off instantly like the switching off of a light bulb. Or would he continue to know what was happening around him as his lifeblood flowed into nothingness? Would he instead be able to continue viewing his surroundings in real-time as a soul floating above the fray, similar to the many previous accounts that he had read of people who came back after being declared brain-dead?

These questions were about to be answered and as anticipation built up within him, Fred peered dispassionately at the cracks in the pavement looming large as they rushed closer and closer towards him. But, at the very last instance, he was unable to fight off a lifetime of reflexes – his eyes clenched shut!

Then, the loud thud, crunch and splat which he had been expecting didn't occur. Fred felt himself suddenly and completely motionless; his falling motion arrested in a split second without him being aware of how, there was no whiplash or sudden jerk that should usually accompany such an abrupt stop. In fact, he felt quite comfortable, as if he was lying on a firm soft down mattress. No, it was like being on a cloud, if that was even possible – it just felt so darn comfortable! And it didn't matter that he was still face down, he didn't feel suffocated and there was hardly any pressure at all at his front pressed against the pavement.

Is this what death is like, he wondered. Am I now in the form of a soul floating above my broken body? He opened his eyes to verify, and was shocked at the sight of something blurred white literally at his eyeballs. He turned his head, and saw shoes of all kinds around him and found that he was at street level. Lying in the snow – no, he was floating just barely above the snow-covered street!

An amazed Fred wondered just how this miracle was possible. When disbelief kicked in from the furious analytical processing of available data screaming through his mind, it was as if this state of grace was punctured by his mistrust. Fred felt his body abruptly immersing into the snow and just like that, he was all cold and wet; it was a very unpleasant feeling indeed!

Rolling onto his back, he sat up, then got to his feet. A shiver started up and the deafening silence that Fred hadn't noticed till then was unexpectedly broken by one of the firemen shouting: "Get that man a blanket! He's gonna freeze to death!"

The absurdity of that statement cracked Fred up. He found himself bursting into helpless laughter, largely fueled by relief that he was still alive. He was still alive! Fred wanted to shout it out loud but his vocal cords were still strangled from all that laughing. What came out though was a sort of croaking.