A Cloud in Heaven

Part 5

        Allen waited in line for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Three people stood in front of him checking into a kiosk against the back wall of the lobby. The roomed was soaked in the tinge of flickering fluorescent light, giving the chipped tiles and dingy white cinder block walls uncomfortable boredom and cheapness. Dust and grime coated every crack and crevice of the dilapidated space. The center of the room was filled with a few rows of plastic chairs to satisfy the need to sit more visitors than they will it ever receive. Allen was finally able to check into the kiosk after the first two individuals made their hasty retreat to the lobby chairs. The machine was encased in a cheap, dark plastic shell with a thoroughly abused touch screen placed in its center. The screen displayed the logo of the architect of death, the Ascension Corporation, but this time it was not accompanied by any government seal. The screen prompted him to place his hand upon it and Allen did as he had done so many times in the past. The screen flashed a few times and displayed Allen's personal information across it. All of his personal and private information was laid bare before him, including his universal Income balance. A balance of only $120.47 remained. It was all he had now and all he would have. No more income for a dead man. There was a tab on the screen that flashed red. It beckoned him to touch it. Its seductive hue and pulsing sense of urgency beat in front of his eyes. It called out for him. He had never seen the tab before on any previous visit. It was usually blocked off, reserved for the damned. It read Rapture Ver 3.2 Upload Information. He felt the urge to press it. He had lived in ambiguity for days. He let his smart phone die and never tried to revive it. He took his device and threw it from his balcony across the street of his apartment. He watched it arc across the sky and smash into the asphalt like a doomed plane striking the ground with no hope of salvation. He did not want to know. He removed anyway of discovering his own fate. Willful ignorance that yielded no bliss. Now he was standing before the messenger once more. He could hear Gabriel's trumpet sound in the form of the flash, in the form of this simple tab on a screen. It was calling him to the precipice. His heart rate elevated. He came here to calm his nerves but instead found himself feeling his nerves ignite once more.

        He reached his finger out in a zombie like motion staring at the screen, unblinking. His heart beat so strong it made him quiver. His hand shook with every frantic pulse. The button flashed. It called for him. His finger inched closer and closer. He was at the gate. The hand was extended to him offering the knowledge of life and death.

        "Hey, can you hurry up!" Shouted a man behind him. Allen blinked rapidly, broken from the trance he was trapped in. He quickly moved his finger to the tab labeled Lazarus Connection Services. He pressed the button without haste and quickly blew through prompts to reach his intended target. He found his mother's name in the list of familial contacts and chose her for resurrection. He transferred over the majority of his remaining fortune for this moment, depleting his resources for any future that was left for him. The screen flashed the number 27 and informed him to take a seat until he was called for reunion. He made his way to the center of the room and sat in the bending and sagging chairs, which have bared the weight of countless in his position. He had done this before but every time it took so much of him. It broke him down. He knew what he was about to do was a lie, a cheap substitute for the real thing. Better and worse than any pill he swallowed but it was the only thing that could truly quell the storm inside. However, this time it was different. This would be the last time he would have to endure this. Next time it will be more real but he will have had lost it all to realize it.

        "Now serving 27. Please make your way to bay A-3," said a monotone electronic voice over the crackling intercom on the wall across from him. Allen rose from his seat and made his way down a hallway that echoed the dejected nature of the lobby. The hallway was lined knob less metal doors on each side. They were covered in chipped, peeling dark red paint and adorned with faded white letters and numbers to indicate their designation. He stood before A-3 and the door slid open, receding into the wall without being prompted. He entered the doorway and the door slid closed behind him with an audible click. The small room was bare except for what stood in its center. It was old and crooked, never receiving rest through its eternal job. It was connected to a charging station with its skeletal frame taught against the cable connections. A single light from the ceiling illuminated its form against the murk of the windowless room. Allen moved towards the form and placed his hand on a touch pad near the charging station it was attached to. A hum and a whirr emanated from within the electronic mass. Slowly a robot sprang to life in all of its lifeless glory. It started moving slowly from the charging station as the cables keeping it at bay disengaged. It lifted its legs in a deliberate fashion of mechanical purpose. The machine moved as if it was posed frame by frame from some invisible animator, jerking and wobbling as its padded metallic feet moved towards the garage bay door across the room from its resting pace. Allen began to approach the robot as the door began to clang and open, receding into the ceiling. The small room was illuminated by the bright white intensity of the outside. Chilled air flowed around them as they made their way to the yard.