Hereafter

Hereafter: Part III The Soul Stitchers, Chapter 39

39

WE BOTH STILL HAD active Flutter and What’sUp accounts, but unsure how to get a message to the Masters, I needed Antonio to remind me about them with a soft elbow to my side. A quick Flutter post and within seconds I felt that itch on my left hand, a reply Flutter, with the simple message to return to Mission Control whenever we were ready to begin our active roles as Master apprentices.

With no need to rush, we stayed at the café, talked some more, and caught up on the latest news by watching the various holodeck feeds coming from our sector, the rest of heaven, and from around the universe. Sadly there were too many stories centering on tragedy, violence, war, crime, and poverty. There were few utopias outside of heaven wherever soul-bearing intelligent creatures, gifted with free will, were guiding the affairs of the planet.

Clearly, there was much need for the work that the Masters do. After watching the news, we both turned and looked at each other and knew what the other was thinking.

“I think I’m going to stop by my apartment, pick up a few things, and I’ll meet you back at Mission Control,” I suggested.

“Sounds good, I’ll do the same,” Antonio agreed.

“No sense in getting used to lounging around in heaven when we’ll probably be off to who knows where doing who knows what in no time at all,” I added.

“All right, then . . . you take off, I’m going to finish my tea and watch a little more from the holodeck news feeds. I know the Masters will suggest assignments for us, but I just have the feeling that something will jump out at me as a good place to start our work together,” he mused, his eyes glued to a screen showing a shocking story about children, all orphans, chained to sewing machines in a Third World sweat shop.

Watching this tragic account of unbearable evil, even worse all because of greed, brought a quiet tear to the corner of Antonio’s eye which soon began its descent down his handsome yet sensitive cheek, rough with the bristles of a 4 o’clock shadow. Burdened with a terrible sense of responsibility to do something about their plight, Antonio returned his cup to the counter, thanked the barista who’d served us, left a tip of several dalasi credits, and headed right for Mission Control.

My room in the apartment I shared with Lydia was exactly as I had left it. Apparently no one had moved in while I was gone. Hoping to make an impression on the Masters, I perused my custom-designed Versace wardrobe and picked out the ensemble with the strong shoulders and floor-length hem. Reviewing the unexpectedly impressive image in the mirror, I actually looked as if some Wisdom had seeped into my still-developing soul.

I thought about gathering up my personal items as well as some of my other clothes before realizing that as a Master anything I needed would instantly materialize in whatever world I found myself. With a certain amount of trepidation, mixed with the building anticipation knowing I was about to embark on another incredible adventure, I closed my old suitcase, put it back in the closet, and headed out the door to meet Antonio and the Masters at Mission Control.

BY THE TIME I ARRIVED, Antonio was already intently engaged in a lively dialog with the Masters.

“Yes, that’s right . . . Fallon and I were catching up at the Soft Landing Café when I saw a news story about children in a sweat shot who were chained to their workstations. It’s common knowledge how much God loves the little ones and only always wants the very best for them, so I thought you might be willing to send us there to do something about it. Wait, here comes Fallon. She doesn’t know about any of this yet,” Antonio said while waving me over to come sit down beside him.

I’d caught the tail end of his remarks and picked up my pace, pulling out and sitting down in the chair next to him. The Master in the far right position spoke to me.