Tuesday, April 3, 1042, Morning

I felt the smile on my lips before I opened my eyes.

There was freshness in the air - a dry, cool touch on my face barely hinting of sweetness - the sort of air that wants to be breathed. My body felt light, a sense of not quite floating off the warm bed. I could hear subdued conversation nearby, the voices friendly.

I breathed a rested sigh.

The light that greeted my eyes had the softness of morning. The room felt friendly but not familiar…

I couldn't decide where I was. I thought back to the previous night – it had been a busy day, and my wife and I were both grateful for bedtime. But it was not my bedroom and my wife wasn't there – had I missed something?

I strained for a memory – but nothing came. It occurred to me that I might be dreaming. But it felt real, and reality has immediacy that cannot be denied. So my mind became anxious as it attempted to decode the signals from my senses. A dream? A hallucination? A practical joke?

There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" I said in a voice that sounded oddly loud.

I half expected to see a medical professional, but my eyes focused on something much more disturbing: my once best friend, who had been dead forty years. He smiled at me fondly from young man's face and said, "Hi Lee. It's good to see you awake."

I clamped my jaw against a wave of vertigo that seemed about to roll the room on its side. After a long pause I managed to say, "Scott?"

His eyes sparkled with quiet humor as he said, "I bet you're wonderin' what's going on."

It was a moment before I thought to nod.

He pulled a side chair over to the bed and sat down. "Well first, just relax – nothing sinister's happened." He put his hand on my arm. His touch was a comfort. I managed an uncertain smile.

"Brace yourself—", he continued, grinning at me in a friendly way, "you passed away in your sleep."

My mind finally came to rest with the thought: ahh, now that makes sense. I laughed aloud at the absurdity of my reasoning. He retrieved his hand, smiling quizzically. After a moment I said, "I think I believe you."

His face assumed a more serious expression before he said, "You know, I never lied to you." After a pause he continued, "You are safe here. You have nothing to worry about. You have all the time you need." He gave my arm a little squeeze and let go.

I relaxed a little.

Dead? Could it be? Where is this place? What happened? How come Scott looks so young? How come he's even alive?

But after a moment my mind was drawn to more mundane things - Sharon's doctor's appointment, the lake house closing at the lawyer's office, my son's impending visit with his family. I felt a sudden rush of panic.

"Sharon!" I whispered. I needed to see my wife.

"Shhh, Sharon's okay. Everybody's okay." His smile didn't falter.

"Okay?"

Scott spoke in a matter-of-fact way. "Sharon outlived you by twelve years, and your kids had good long lives too."

"Sharon! I-" The word was cut off as my throat closed.

"And you will see her again," said Scott with warm confidence, "I promise."

The vertigo returned again, stronger this time. "Scott-!" I blurted – then began to weep lightly in spite of myself - my mind a confused amalgam of sadness and fear. I didn't doubt his honesty - I doubted my own sanity, which was as tragic a thought as I'd ever experienced.

Scott gripped my shoulder through the blanket and said, "She was heartbroken. But your children gave her the best comfort...her heart found peace quicker than most. You and Sharon have great kids."

My heart pounded crazily as I lay there. But the tight desolation eased a little as some of Scott's words slipped through my feelings of loss and disorientation. I tried to compose myself as implications began to ring in my mind, consciously slowing my breathing in an attempt to relax. After a few minutes I deliberately eased tension from my body, starting with my fingers and toes and working inward. The little wracking spasms began to fade.

Scott said, "That's better."

Is this real? How can it be? I pinched myself on the arm, hard. It hurt. Scott laughed. "It's funny how many people do that."

I tried to smile and couldn't.

"I know you're disoriented. Some advice?"

I nodded.

"Your mind's having trouble making sense of what your senses are telling you. The best thing is to relax and go with the flow. You're not crazy. You're perfectly okay - I promise. I went through it too and I know. You're safe. You're going to be very happy here. Accept that."

I nodded slowly as his words sank in.

"Be passive, take it in - trust me." His confident smile was a comfort.

I closed my eyes, letting his instructions settle into my thought. I concentrated on my breathing, and told myself to just go slowly and watch. I willed my consciousness to assume the role of a spectator.

I sighed as my body relaxed and went limp. The feeling of peace I had when I first awoke began to seep back. I found I could smile again.

Playing back Scott's earlier words in my mind, some of them didn't make sense. I decided to test him. "How can you know what happens in the future?"

He chuckled and slapped my knee as he stood. "It's time to get up!" He moved his chair over under the desk by the window. Turning his gaze to the view beyond the glass he said, "Get some clothes on and we'll go for a walk."

I pushed myself up and swung my feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. My feet and legs looked funny, the skin was wrong.

I glanced around. The place looked like a hotel room. Besides the bed there was a round oak table with chairs, a desk with its own chair, a leather easy chair and reading lamp, and what looked like a small armoire with drawers. The ceiling was high and one wall was all glass, top to bottom, looking out at what appeared to be a porch opening onto green. That window gave the room its only light - soft and infused with morning promise. A doorway on the opposite wall opened into a narrow hall. The floor appeared to be wood, mostly covered with rugs that looked like short fleece – the touch was soft to my feet. The room was comfortable and inviting – a place to feel at home.

I began to notice details. The bed I was sitting on seemed to be made to fold into the wall – a Murphy bed, I thought. The furniture, though simple, appeared to be of high quality. It was elegant rather than ornate – the rubbed oil finish set off the grain of the wood in a way that was warm but not overpowering. It invited touch. There were no pictures on the walls, but the room didn't seem to lack for them.

Turning attention back to my person I noticed that I was naked except for some plain – and unfamiliar – boxer shorts. I glanced at my friend. "What clothes?"

"In the chifforobe," he said, indicating the armoire.

I stood easily, with surprising energy, made my way over, and got my next big shock – the chifforobe door had a mirror. "Ehhh!" slipped out.

"Something wrong?"

"Look at me!" I blurted.

"Heh."

I looked more closely at the reflection of my dumbfounded face - a young face, about the same age as Scott's. It was definitely me - the features were familiar, except for the smooth young skin, lots of thick hair on my head, no beard – and no need to shave. Decently well built too - very fit looking. I even had abs! My face felt smooth and soft when I ran my hand across it. "Well, it's been a long time since I s-saw anything agreeable in a mirror."

Scott chuckled. "They bring us back young - right at physical maturity."

"Well. I never thought I was much to look at…I guess I was – uh – am." I was entranced – I didn't remember ever looking that good.

"You'll get used to it," he said with amused assurance.

I kept looking - as thoughts flooded my mind. It's true – it must be. "Scott -"

"Mmm?"

"Is this heaven?"

"What do you think?"

"I…I don't know-"

"That's a good start. Get dressed, and we'll go for a walk."

I forced myself to explore the chifforobe - in slow deliberation. The right side was a small closet with a few plain shirts and slacks hanging in it – and a big thick terrycloth robe that bunched up on a couple of pairs of shoes that were at the bottom – plain and comfortable looking but otherwise unremarkable. The drawers contained the standard things – socks, underwear, tee shirts, some folded bluejeans. Everything appeared almost new, but with the look of having been worn enough to be comfortable. The smell was fresh.

My brain calmed with the mundane tasks of dressing, as I forced myself to act and not think. Only my throat was a little sore and my eyes still stung a bit from my earlier little tempest. The clothes fit well, even though they looked too small.

Upon finishing, I again resolved my mind to go along with whatever happened next – it seemed the only alternative to freaking out. My hands had stopped shaking.

I glanced at Scott when I finished tying my shoes. He had been watching me. "Ready?"

"Okay."

He crossed the room to the side opposite the glass wall and led me through the short hallway, which emptied into another room the same size as the one we had left. It was set up as a sitting room, with chairs and a sofa grouped around a coffee table, and another round table with chairs. It too had one glass wall that looked out on the same sort of porch with smooth marble columns and the leaves of trees beyond. He opened the glass door to the outside and motioned me through.

We stepped onto a long colonnade, ten feet wide, which appeared to stretch forever both ways. Over the edge looked like large, infinitely wide marble steps leading down to a forest floor about thirty feet below. Scott turned left and led me down the colonnade. The building did seem to be a sort of high class motel – I could see rooms much like the one we left through oddly tinted glass walls - but it was very nice and unlike a motel, there wasn't a car or parking lot in sight.

"Are you hurting?" he asked me.

"No. Not at all." That was unusual too.

"You look like you are."

I glanced at him. "Really?"

"You look stiff - you're hunched over."

I stood straighter. It felt good. "I guess my brain's still used to the old me."

He looked as if he hadn't considered that, then nodded. "I bet you're right."

I concentrated on holding the posture of a fit young man. It felt a little strange - but nice.

After a hundred feet or so, there was an intersection where another colonnade met ours from the left. We turned onto it, and I could see similar units on both sides. After about two hundred feet the walkway ended and we entered a large park.

As we walked it became apparent that we were in a kind of quadrangle - maybe twenty acres, whose boundaries were defined by colonnaded buildings. At each end were more grandiose structures – on one side was a Parthenon looking building sitting atop a large tiered platform, flanked by wider but shorter marble structures on each side. The buildings on the other end were the same except the center one had a smooth polished dome. The area was large and open in the center, with big old hardwood trees making shade around the margins. As we walked I could see that the center was made up of large grassy areas like football fields. There were people walking, lounging and playing – all about college age. I saw one young woman playing Frisbee with a pretty retriever.

What a beautiful day it was! Apparently spring – the trees were fully leafed out but still light green. Only a slight breeze stirred the cool morning air. The tree tops caught the rising sun, showing the leaves a lovely contrast with the azure of the sky.

I smiled as we walked – it was irresistible.

We cut across to the other side of the quad, and entered the shade again. Besides the swallows winging their effortless way around the big expanses of open grass, there were a few birds flitting around in the trees, and I heard a bluebird warble good morning to his wife. A couple of squirrels scrabbled around the trunk of a big oak, playing chase. Flowers were in bloom everywhere, and there were no blemishes in the grass. It didn't look perfect, but perfectly nice.

Scott stopped to take it in. "Pretty, ain't it?"

"Umm hmm." I said emphatically. The sight was entrancing - idyllic. "What is this Scott?" I finally asked.

"What do you think it is?"

"I mean, what's going on?"

"You just woke up and we're going for a walk."

"Where?" I asked.

"Nowhere in particular – just a walk."

"I mean, where are we?"

"Does it look familiar to you at all?"

"-No. Not really. It looks kinda like a college campus."

"Very good. It was modeled loosely on the University of Virginia, only we didn't have Jefferson's constraints."

"This isn't Virginia," I said. It was really a question.

"No. This isn't Virginia, it isn't even Earth."

It was hard to be surprised – not that I expected Scott's answer – but surprise seemed to have taken the day off.

"So- where is it?"

"That's not easy to say. Do you remember 'Virtual Reality'?"

"So this isn't real? We're not really here?" I asked, jumping ahead.

"Of course we're here. This is as real as the Earth."

"Then… why did you…?"

"Well, what if Earth, as we knew it, was a sort of VR?"

"You mean the Earth wasn't real?"

"As real as anything." He paused, considering. "Think about what real means." He looked at me questioningly. "Does this place really exist? Are we really here? Do you really like it?"

He started walking again, and I just walked along with him, thinking about what he said.

He picked up the thread again. "You might think of Earth as God's VR. And this place is another one."

That did make a little sense."So how did we get here?"

"We were re-created here, copied from the Earth."

"Re-created by whom?" I prodded.

"By people, just like us. People created this planet."

"Not God?"

"Nope. Not this place."

"So who created the Earth?"

"That was God," he said nodding emphatically, "We call him The Creator."

"So he really does exist?" I asked plaintively.

"Sure. Or did. Or will. It's a slippery question – you have to have a working understanding of Aethyrphysics to even phrase it in a way that begins to make sense. You don't have the framework, so you can't properly ask the question. That's one of the main things we do here, by the way."

"What?"

"Study Aethyrphysics."

"Oh."

"How're you feeling now?" he asked with a trace of concern.

"Okay. Better, I think."

"Good. I know it's not easy. We worked hard to get ready for you, to make it as easy as we could. But you never know what a person'll do. We've all been through it, but nobody's the same."

"So is this what A-Aethyrphysicists do?" I asked.

"You mean help people back to life?"

"Yeah."

He shook his head. "I'm doing this because I volunteered. I got picked because we figured you'd be most likely to trust me. Trust is the name of the game at first."

"So this isn't your job?"

"No. You are my first resurrection – though I've helped with a few others. I died relatively young, you know. By-the-way, I want to thank you for the attention you gave my kids."

"We really loved your kids. Y'all had good ones."

"I know. And good friends too. I never knew how good while I lived."

Something that had been lurking at the back of my mind suddenly materialized as a question, "So you could see what was happening on the Earth after you were gone?"

"Yes and no. From our perspective, it's been two thousand six hundred and twenty, uh, two years since you died – and I've only been here twenty years."

"So you can travel back in time?"

"We can look back but we can't go back. We can look at everything that ever happened on the Earth – trace every molecule at every instant, but we can't change any of it." He tilted his head. "It's sort of like having access to a huge recording. Even if we could change it, it wouldn't change what happened, only our perception of it."

"So you can see everything that ever happened?"

"Yep." He gave me a mischievous grin. "I know all your secrets."

I thought about that, and began to feel squirmy inside. Scott was watching me and he laughed, "I know what you're thinking. Don't worry; no man is without sin, as you'll see if you ever trace me. But you were a very, very good man. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

"So there is a Hell?" I asked.

"Many Hells. At least they would be for us, but the people who go there don't see it that way. This planet is filled with people you'd like – everybody here's compatible on a basic level. There, too – but we don't mix well. They do a good job of judging us out.

"There are other planets?"

"Yeah. Thousands."

Scott had led me to a taller building that was situated between two of the 'apartment buildings', but unlike them, it was multi-storied.

The ground floor, where we entered, appeared to be made up of small cafes. Each seemed to have a different theme, but all were neat and comfortable looking – cozy would be a good description. We walked by several before Scott led me into a small cafeteria.

The buffet was inviting. We went through the line – though it really wasn't a line since we were the only ones in it. There were a dozen other young people eating, mostly couples.

The food looked really good, and was served by very attractive and attentive employees. There was no mention of money. We each chose what looked good and sat down.

"The folks who work here seem very nice," I said.

"Yes, but we don't call them folks. They're not people, they're —composites. We call them 'bots', short for 'robots' I guess."

"Really?"

"They do most all the blue-collar work here. Exceeding sophisticated, but just machines at heart."

I looked back at the serving line – the servers looked normal to me. "How do you tell the difference?"

Scott gave a knowing chuckle. "Just try to have a serious conversation with one."

I looked back again. It was impressive.

Scott continued, "All bots have purple eyes. You didn't notice?"

"Purple? Uh, no." I looked more closely – but couldn't judge eye color at that distance.

Scott had started in, so I took my first bite. "Ooo…" I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Good, ain't it."

"Mmmm," I said, savoring the taste. After a moment I said, "I don't think I've ever tasted anything this good."

"You'll get used to it."

I tried some more, savoring the sensations the food brought. After another pause I said, "How do y'all keep from getting fat? With chow like this resistance is futile."

"See any fat people?"

I looked around. Apart from one five-year-old, everybody looked between about sixteen and thirty. Every person I saw looked healthy and very fit. Nobody the same but all perfect in their way. I hadn't noticed that before.

"No," I said.

"We eat mostly for fun. It wouldn't kill you if you never ate anything. And no matter what you eat, it won't affect you physically – except for taste and a bloated feeling if you overdo it."

"So how does…uh…" I didn't understand.

"Well, you know the human body is a sort of organic machine. We've made some improvements – not all organic. You won't find any bathrooms around here either."

Now that was interesting. "What's the life expectancy here?"

"Who knows? I've never heard of anybody dying of old age."

"It sounds like magic."

"It does. But it's really not. We have made some alterations to the physics – not many and not much. Really it's just very advanced technology, and a full understanding how our universe works. We designed it."

"So nobody dies? No murders?"

"You can certainly get killed. But you get re-made. No murders per se, that I know of. You could kill somebody if you were determined to, but they'd just come back. And nobody gets away with anything – of course."

"Why not?"

"Because we can see everything that happens here, just like with Earth."

"Oh. I didn't think of that." The squirmy feeling was back.

"No privacy, except that we don't go around watching everything everybody does – we've got better things to do. But you can trace somebody if you need to."

He continued as we ate, "We can feel pain, but the limit is lower – no agony. At least not physical agony. No need for it. But it's hard to function without pain."

"What else is different?"

"I guess the biggest thing is that we don't make babies – you won't see anybody who didn't live on earth."

I considered that for a moment. "So what about sex?"

"What about it?" He said archly.

"Do you, uh, do it here?"

"It's different. The physical urges aren't the same, and the actual experience is more involved, more intense. People are more focused on the spiritual aspect than they were on Earth. We don't procreate, but we do connect – sex here is all about connecting."

"Do people marry?"

"Not in the same sense. There are lots of couples. But we don't make babies so husband-wife commitment isn't so critical. Families are chosen rather than made – and mature families are more than just a man and a woman. You can call it a marriage, but we just say family – or clan."

He looked thoughtful. "I've only been here twenty years. I don't have the experience to talk about it in much depth – but it looks like families form around a core of love. Love is more palpable here – there's not so much working against it like on Earth – and plenty of time to plumb its depths – or so I'm told. I'm still single.

"You asked about God earlier. We know The Creator existed because we've seen his work. When we trace the Earth back to the beginning, it's there. He created the Earth's universe. He was skilled – we think he had had a lot of practice. And we do think we know why he did it, what he wanted to accomplish." Scott paused and rubbed his chin distractedly. "As far as we can tell, it's what we were designed for – why we were created. The purpose of Earth's universe, and our purpose in it, was love. The philosopher's think it might have been his invention."

I thought about that. "So can we – are we in contact with him?"

"We don't really know much about him. And 'He' might'a been 'They'— probably was, but most of us think in terms of 'He'." Scott set his fork down and leaned back a little before he continued. "He didn't inhabit the universe he created – except vicariously, if he even did that. And we don't have any way of knowing where he came from or where he is – if he even does still exist somewhere – no reason why he shouldn't. There's a lot of speculation – but nobody really knows much. When you get into a study of Aethyrphysics you'll see how involved the ideas are. This isn't the heaven of the Bible – or maybe it is, but it's not heaven as I imagined it. This place was made by men like us, just a lot older – or a lot younger, depending on how you look at it."

I was confused - I gave my head a quick shake.

Scott smiled. "The oldest inhabitants of this universe were born on Earth only about fourteen hundred years ago – so on that timeline they are twelve hundred years younger than us. They descend from us."

I gave him a perplexed look, and he continued to explain, "They've been bringing people back for a long time. At first they started with their own 'dearly departed' and went back from there – but for a long time now they've been going the other way, starting at eight thousand years B.C. and coming forward, keeping the sequence more-or-less straight, if not the intervals. So you'll be here when Sharon comes - scheduled in a couple of years. It makes resurrection easier when you're greeted by somebody you know, who understands the place."

"Why start at 8000 B.C.?" I asked.

"Because that was when the first man died."

"8000 BC? I thought Man was a million years old!"

"Hmmm. Not on the Earth – at least, not on our Earth. The Creator used copies of His earlier work – or somebody else's; pieces that'd been worked out for a long time in some other universe. But there's no doubt that our Earth is not nearly as old as we thought. Looks like Darwin was wrong – but he was also right. We were evolved, just not on the Earth.

"So the universe really was created in six days?"

"Earth came into being instantly. It's easy to move fast when you just want to assemble something from parts that you have layin' around. But the parts were probably designed and evolved over eons."

I smiled. "You know, I just thought of something."

"What?"

"I remember thinking about what I would do if I ever found myself in heaven."

He looked expectant.

"I wanted to ask God about how he created the universe. I wanted to know how it all worked."

He gave me a slight smile. "I think you'll find answers here. But, you know, every answer just brings more questions."

"Really?"

"That never changes, I'm afraid."

"Oh."

"But that's okay. You have all the time you need to explore, and you'll never get bored because you'll never have all the answers."

I thought about that. "That's better than heaven."

"You're going to fit right in here," he said through a grin.

I looked around again. "Why do they make us so young?"

"Most people don't want to be old. If you, as an old man, could go back in time and get back your body at any age, what age would it be?"

I considered that. "About twenty, I guess."

"Right. That's what most people want. Although here you can have the constitution of an eighteen year old and still look seventy if you like."

"We don't age?"

"Much more slowly. I think the ratio is twenty-to-one. In a thousand years you'll look like your old self again."

"So if I see somebody who's seventy then he's really a thousand?"

He shook his head. "Not necessarily. You could get a seventy year old looking body if you wanted. And a thousand year old can get a body like ours. You could even put yourself into an old lady's body if that's what you wanted."

I was shocked by the thought. "So I can have a completely different body?"

"If you like. But most people don't – at least not at first. Give yourself a hundred years."

"A hundred years…" He spoke as if it was an insignificant time.

"Time is not one of your limits. You'll have to push hard to find limits here."

I laughed giddily, in spite of myself. "It sounds like fun."

"It is. There's nobody telling you what to do. You can have whatever you want. And there's no rush to do anything."