Home More stories Hermann in Purgatory Author: Jaime Despree 1. When I tell you where I am, you will surely think I am crazy, or that I have smoked marijuana. Even worse, that I have taken some powerful hallucinogen, such as LSD, or perhaps that I have mistakenly eaten some poisonous mushroom that has caused me to have strange visions. I haven't done any of that, and you can't even say that I have a disposition prone to hallucinations. Quite the contrary: I am realistic, sober, and rational. I consider myself little less than an atheist and don't let my emotions get the better of me. Nor can it be said that I have an overactive imagination, and I am not at an age where my mind plays tricks on me. But, incomprehensibly, here I am, and I don't even know how I got to this scary place. I only remember that I was sitting comfortably in my armchair, reading a complicated book on metaphysics—as I said before, I am a rationalist and therefore fond of philosophy—savoring a steaming cup of coffee, when suddenly the lights in my apartment went out and I was left in complete darkness. I reacted with absolute calm. First, I waited a few moments, convinced that it was a temporary power outage. Then I put down the book, relaxed, and reflected on the complicated reasoning of what I had just read. Since I couldn't make much sense of it, I got up and, groping my way, made my way to the kitchen, not without bumping into the coffee table in the living room. I knew I had a small flashlight in a drawer, but I rummaged through the junk in it without finding it. This frustrated me and even put me in a bad mood, which was unusual for me. I resigned myself to staying in the dark for as long as the power outage lasted, and, stumbling again over the coffee table in the living room, I returned to my armchair. There I waited for the lights to come back on, but they didn't! Barely a couple of minutes had passed when I had the alarming sensation that the armchair was disappearing and I could no longer feel it. Moments later, millions of stars began to appear, first faintly, but soon with extraordinary brightness and intensity, forming galaxies and constellations. And there I was, floating in space, in the midst of a terrifying darkness, illuminated only by the pale glow of the stars, with no idea what had happened to me or why I was in that extraordinary place. I had the feeling that I had lost my body, because I felt neither cold nor heat, only a strange sensation of neutrality and well-being. But, as I began to fear, it was clear that I had not become a spirit, but remained apparently intact, just as I had been sitting in my armchair. I could walk as if I were walking on water, without feeling the ground; I could move, change position, turn upside down or lie down, because in reality I had no reference point to establish my position. Wherever I looked, there was only an immense, dark space, full of bright and spectacular galaxies, because from the strange place where I was, I could see their masses and vapors of bluish, purple, and red tones in all their splendor, in spiral shapes and other more deformed and capricious forms. If I had applied myself more in school to the study of astronomy, I could surely have recognized some of these galaxies, especially the Milky Way, and I could have gotten at least a rough idea of where I was, but in my initial daze I didn't recognize any of them, so I was completely lost and disoriented. I didn't feel dizzy, because I didn't have the sensation that I could fall anywhere in particular. There was nothing solid around me, no planet, satellite, or even meteorite that I could fall on. It was like floating in water, but without feeling its wetness. I tried to come to some reasonable conclusion and immediately realized that I had simply fallen asleep and was in the middle of a nightmare. I reacted with some energy, trying to wake up, because the situation was not exactly pleasant, but it was all useless. I assumed that I had fallen into a deep sleep from which I was having trouble waking up and that it was just a matter of being patient and letting that bad dream pass and seeing where else it would take me. What may have been several hours passed, because I didn't have a clear sense of time either, and, strangely for a dream, floating in the middle of that nothingness, I finally fell asleep! 2. "Sir, sir; wake up, sir! Someone with a strange high-pitched but muffled voice was shaking me. I woke up convinced that my nightmare was over and that I would find myself back in my comfortable apartment in Berlin. Before taking stock of the situation, I promised myself that I would never read another book on metaphysics, which I blamed for that bad dream. But that was not to be, and Berlin would have to wait. The nightmare continued, and I was still suspended in nowhere, surrounded by the same dark, abysmal spectacle. Despite the darkness, I could make out who had woken me up, and although I have always tolerated strange people, this individual provoked an instinctive rejection in me. He was a gaunt old man, hunched over and trembling, dressed in what looked like a doublet like the ones I had seen in some 15th or 16th century engravings, of an indescribable brown color, cinched with a thick cord tied at the waist. His breeches reached down to his knees and covered his skeletal calves with white stockings, but they were probably darkened by dirt. He covered his head with a small felt cap, as faded as the rest of his clothes, which covered a whitish skull, while his sparse hair blended in with a long, matted gray beard that reached down to his waist. But despite his bizarre appearance, his gaze was kind and his movements were slow and shaky, which, despite his horrible appearance, suggested to me that he was possibly a good person. I haven't mentioned that he was carrying a huge sack, which apparently contained something of great value, because he didn't even bother to unload it, and besides, there was nowhere to put it. "Do you have anything you don't need that you can give me?" he asked me without waiting for us to introduce ourselves. But I didn't want to waste the unexpected presence of this strange person to find out where I was, and a torrent of hurried and somewhat disordered questions came out of my mouth: "But where are we? Who are you? Why are we floating in space? Where the hell did you come from?" This is just a nightmare, isn't it? The old man didn't seem fazed, and as if he hadn't heard me, he insisted on his demand: "You can give me anything, I'll see what it's good for later." However, I insisted: "But at least tell me who you are and where you came from." "Ah, you want to know that. But can't you see? I'm a poor old man who makes a living begging around here! What else do you want to know? Oh, yes, where we are, and what do I know; ask someone who is more cultured than me! But you must have something you don't need. Why don't you give me your shoes? Shoes are not necessary here. It was clear that I would get nothing out of that conversation, but I couldn't bring myself to waste the opportunity to clarify my absurd situation to some extent. "All right, all right; I'll give you my shoes if you answer one last question. After all, in nightmares you can give away your shoes and whatever else you want, because it's just a bad dream and that's it. But at least tell me your name and where you come from." "I'll be grateful if you give me your shoes, but I can't answer your question. I forgot that a long time ago. I only remember the soldier who stabbed me in the chest with his spear. Do you want to see the wound? He was a damn Catholic mercenary of the Antichrist, born at the wrong time, of Emperor Charles, but don't ask me any more questions." Will you give me your shoes now? "Emperor Charles? Do you mean Charles V?" The old man made a gesture of disgust and tried to spit, but no saliva came out. "The same bastard!" So that ragged old man must have been about five hundred years old, and he was dead! And wasn't I dead too? As a nightmare, it had gone too far. Normally, in other bad dreams I had had before, I used to wake up when my life was in danger, either because I was about to be run over, fall off a cliff, or be violently attacked by someone. But now I had suffered the same shock and emotional turmoil, but I hadn't woken up! "So... you're dead, and I must be too." The old man did not dispel my doubts or seem to have heard me, and he insisted once more on his pleas: "I've already told you everything I know, and you promised me that..." "All right, I'll give you my shoes. What the hell use are they to me now that I'm dead?" The old man seemed pleased and, with great difficulty, unloaded the huge sack so he could put my shoes in it. Although I knew it would be useless, I dared to ask him one last question. "But, for God's sake, what do you carry in that sack?" "I've already told you, things with which I earn an honest living." "In a place like this?" "You have to earn a living everywhere." "But you're dead!" "Me, dead? How absurd! It would take a hundred pikes like the one that pierced my chest to finish me off." "Then I..." "If you promised to give me your shoes, don't waste any more of my time." The old man was clearly disturbed and unaware of his condition. The worst part was that I was also on the verge of losing my mind. I had to try to calm down, give him my damn shoes, and leave him alone to try to reflect on this strange situation, if that was possible. "Thank you, and may God reward you." He barely thanked me, put my shoes in the sack, hoisted it back onto his hunched shoulders, and with an unsteady but determined gait, I watched him walk away until he disappeared into the darkness. 3. That mysterious old man left me in a state of agonizing mental confusion. Something truly serious had happened to me, but what? I couldn't be dead, because there was no reason for it. My health is reasonably good. Perhaps I suffer from a stomach ulcer due to my frequent heartburn, which I should have had checked out by a doctor to put my mind at rest. But that's not a cause of death. It's true that I overdo it with the mustard on my hot dogs, but I can't help myself. I may also overdo it with coffee and smoke more than I would like, but I lack the willpower to quit. Maybe my heart was weak without me knowing it. Or maybe my blood pressure was very high and I had a heart attack, but the last time it was taken, it seemed normal. Besides, these things don't just happen out of the blue; I should have had some prior symptoms: palpitations, chest pain, something, I say! But last night I was perfectly fine, only that unexpected blackout happened, and if I hadn't stumbled over the table, I might have thought that the person who got up to look for the flashlight was already a spirit. But I stumbled twice, so I was still alive. And then everything happened quickly. Was that when death came upon me suddenly and insensibly? It's not possible; no, that couldn't have happened to me! "Unfortunately, it did happen to you. You did indeed suffer sudden cardiac death." "Who...?" "Don't ask who is speaking to you, because I can't answer you. I am speaking to you through your conscience." Begin to get the idea, because you are dead and you are nothing more than an antibody, the specter of what you were physically at the moment of your death. Perhaps you will understand it better if I tell you that you are composed of antimatter. A subtle matter prior to energy. You are similar in every way to what you were at the moment of your death, except that now you have no sensations, because you are all spirit and mind; that is, you have full awareness of good and evil, but you lack sensitivity. Since you want to know where you are, don't be surprised if I tell you that you are in purgatory, an intermediate space between heaven and earth. Something, which is not so serious as to deserve hell, must weigh on your conscience when you have not gone directly to heaven. Do not be alarmed, you can get out of here, but someone has to help you so that you can free yourself from the guilt of your conscience. However, I warn you that this may take years or perhaps centuries. Here, time is cosmic, and a thousand years is a relatively short period of time. "So I'm dead!" "Unfortunately, yes." "And you are the voice of my conscience." "That's right." "And I'm in Purgatory." "At least for the moment, you are here." "For some fault I have committed that still weighs on my conscience." "That is the reason." "But what fault is that, if I may ask?" "That's up to you to find out; that's what your conscience is for." "But I must have committed thousands of sins in the course of my life. How can I know which one is the reason I'm in Purgatory?" "Only you have the answer. Now you'll have plenty of time to find out. Heaven can wait." "Heaven? But what is heaven?" "You'll know as soon as you free yourself from your guilt." "For the voice of my conscience, you're not very talkative." "Goodbye, Hermann." "How do you know my name?" "Remember, I am your conscience. I knew it from the very day you knew it. Good luck on your long journey, Hermann. Remember: only someone who helps you can get you out of this place." The voice of my conscience said nothing more, leaving me in agonizing perplexity. Then hundreds of images and thoughts assailed me, depressing me even more. If I was really dead, who would discover my body? Would my colleagues at the library be concerned and come to my apartment to check on me? Luckily, I left a copy of my key with the building manager, so they won't have to break down the door. Well, at least my poor deceased parents will be spared this upset. And where will they bury me? I'm sure they'll cremate me and throw my ashes into the crematorium's trash container. But what about my bank account? Who will get my savings? And what will happen to my email account? No one but me knows the password. I must have written it down somewhere easy to find. Will my more than 150 Facebook friends wonder why I'm no longer posting? Which of them will break the news of my death, and what will they say in their comments? Thank goodness I don't have a Twitter account, at least! But what am I thinking? I just died and I'm worrying about these stupid trifles! I must calm down, face the facts, stop worrying about what I've left behind, and focus on my salvation. This darkness is unbearable! How am I going to wander around in this gloomy darkness for a thousand or two thousand years? I won't even be able to keep track of time! That crazy old man has been here for almost five hundred years and is still the same as on the day he died, convinced that he is still alive. There are no days or nights here; there is no time for waking and no time for sleeping. So how am I going to get an idea of the passage of time? But who can help me get out of here, and what can they do for me? My consciousness is clouded and I can't think clearly. It's better to let my mind rest and think of nothing, absolutely nothing. Isn't it absurd to be dead and still think? 4 For a few moments, I managed to free myself from my distressing thoughts by focusing my attention on contemplating one of the most spectacular galaxies in sight. It was spiral-shaped, but with irregularities. The center was intensely bright white, and as it expanded, the tones changed from pinkish to violet, and the shreds of dense nebulae at the edges were pale blue. The faint light that illuminated me probably came mainly from that fantastic galaxy. I would have liked to know its name, which was surely familiar to astronomers on Earth. When I had managed to calm my excited spirits with that extraordinary vision, I was startled again because I thought I saw, outlined in the glow of the galaxy, and moments later I was astonished to find myself face to face with a young woman dressed in the style of the old German peasant women, with a white camisole and a red bodice with exquisite embroidery; long skirts down to her ankles, covered with an apron. Her small feet were bare. She was perhaps no more than twenty years old, with long blonde hair down to her waist, which she wore in two long braids, covered with a white cap, fastened with a brooch, probably made of silver, in the shape of a rose with open petals. Her features were pleasant but sad. But the most amazing thing was that she was holding one of my shoes in each hand, the ones I had given to the crazy old man just a few moments ago. She approached me with a certain shyness and embarrassment, and handing me the shoes, she said: "Here, sir, your shoes. My grandfather shouldn't have asked you for them, and you were very kind to give them to him. "Your grandfather? That crazy old man is your grandfather?" "That's right, sir. But he's not crazy, just a little confused. That's all. Well... goodbye, sir, and we apologize, but now I have to go back to my grandfather." With some hesitation, as if she expected me to stop her, she turned around and I could see a horrible wound on her back, tearing part of her dress. Then I realized that perhaps she and the old man had died for the same reason, pierced by the pikes of Charles V's Catholic mercenaries. "Wait, wait! Don't leave without telling me who you are and how you got here." "What do you want me to say? I can't stay long. My grandfather will be missing me by now." "I just want to know how... how... I mean, how you died!" "Oh, that. My grandfather and I were killed by the Catholics on the same day." I tried to run away, I ran as fast as I could, but they stabbed me in the back with a spear. I didn't die right away, and I was able to crawl to where my grandfather was, who tried to help me. Then the same soldier mercilessly killed him too, stabbing him in the chest with his spear while he was holding me in his arms... "Evil man!" "Yes, these Catholic mercenaries were very cruel. "So, are you Protestants? "Yes, sir; Lutherans, and that's the only reason they killed us. "And where did this happen? "We lived in the beautiful city of Magdeburg. "Ah, it was during the siege of Magdeburg. "Yes, sir; they destroyed everything. They killed children, women, and the elderly, without mercy. And they called themselves Christians!" We both remained silent for a few moments, overwhelmed by the image of those horrible killings. "It was terrible, no doubt..." "Was? Do Catholics no longer kill Protestants?" "Of course not! They have been living in peace with each other for centuries." "Is that true? My grandfather should know! That's great news, and it might bring him back to his senses." "Apparently, he is still not aware that he is dead." "That's the problem. He thinks he's alive and continues with his routine, as if he were in Magdeburg. You see, he used to collect things that people gave him because they were useless and sell them at the market. That way he earned a few coins to help out at home. I was employed as a maid in the Burgomaster's house. He was a good man, whom the Catholics must have killed too! "And your parents? "They died during the last plague epidemic. Now they must be in heaven. If you could convince my grandfather, he could leave this horrible place and go to heaven too. Deep down he's a good man, but he's full of hatred for the emperor. "If you think so, I can try. "Will you do that for me? Will you really try? "Of course; of course. It costs me nothing. The poor creature rubbed her hands together with joy, and for the first time since I had known her, I saw a smile on her lips and her expression became more cheerful and youthful. "Wait here, it won't take a minute!" "Tell me your name first." "Eloisa; I think, because that's what my grandfather calls me." And she disappeared into the darkness from whence she had appeared. For a moment, I thought that sweet creature had never been there and that she had been an apparition caused by my altered consciousness, which, since her voice had warned me, was desperately searching for someone to help me out of that purgatory. But when I saw that she had my shoes in her hand, I was glad, because it was proof that the young woman had been there, and she would surely return with her grandfather, just as she had promised me. The paradox was that I was going to be the one to help someone out of that dark place. 5. There was another terrifying silence, although for a moment I thought I heard a strange sound, like the high notes of an organ, with a certain harmony, but without forming a specific musical phrase. It was a monotonous tone, sometimes lower and sometimes higher. The sound was pleasant and solemn, but at the same time terrifying, because it seemed to come from the galaxies. Sometimes it faded away completely and absolute silence reigned. Would I have to listen to that spectral music for the thousand or two thousand years I remained in that purgatory? Fortunately, the arrival of the old man and the young Eloisa took me out of that distressing assumption. "Sir, tell my grandfather what you told me. He must believe you." The old man looked at me incredulously, but he seemed restless and expectant. I tried to speak with confidence and be as convincing as possible. The young woman gently pushed the old man closer to me and unloaded him from his bulky sack. "It's true, sir, and you must believe me. For years, Catholics and Protestants have lived together in peace and harmony. "I can't believe it; you must be a Catholic and you're trying to deceive me, but I will not renounce my faith, I would rather die a thousand times! "Grandfather, don't be so stubborn!" the young woman reproached him. "There are no more religious wars in Germany. Charles V is dead, and so are his successors! "The emperor is dead? "Completely! Almost five centuries ago!" "But who are you, and how do you know all this? Are you an emissary of the Protestant League?" "No, no; that was many years ago. But I am also dead. You have been in this purgatory for a long time, and I have just arrived from the world of the living. Things have changed a lot in the world since you died." "You must believe him, Grandfather, he means well. This gentleman doesn't want to hurt you. He's a good person; he gave you his shoes!" the young woman interceded again. The old man seemed affected, as if he were struggling with himself. He exchanged a questioning glance with his granddaughter, and she nodded vigorously. "So, I'm dead, and there's no point in collecting useless things around here..." "No, Grandpa, it's no use anymore; you'll never be able to sell them at the market. It's all over for us. Now all we have left is to earn our place in heaven, and this good man can help us." The old man remained confused. His calves trembled, and he continued to exchange anguished glances with his granddaughter. Finally, it seemed to me that he had accepted the facts, because he approached his granddaughter, squeezed her hand, and exclaimed in despair: "So that soldier killed us both on the same day..." "Yes, Grandpa." "And you've known all this time!" "I tried many times to convince you, but you were stubborn." The old man seemed calm and resigned. He turned to me and asked if I knew how the emperor had died. "Sick and tired of fighting all the princes of Europe, he retired to a monastery in Spain..." "Did that Antichrist become a monk?" "Oh, no, not at all. He remained the same arrogant and fanatical character as always, like all the Habsburgs of that time. But in his later years, people lost respect for him. Even the monks and locals at the monastery made his life miserable. Not even his son had much respect for him." "The young Philip?" "Yes, that's right. He finally died after a painful agony, a victim of malaria, although from a very young age he had suffered from the painful disease of gout, so common among princes at that time." "God punished him!" "In his last days, he must have suffered from great remorse, because he practically lost his mind. He had the monks of the monastery celebrate his funeral while he was still alive and remained inside his own coffin. "He must have gone straight to hell," the young woman interrupted me. "Without a doubt! "And what happened next? "Unfortunately, his son Philip was no better than him and provoked a long war between Catholics and Protestants. But finally, a peace agreement was signed, deciding that northern Germany would be mainly Protestant and southern Germany mainly Catholic, but with religious freedom in both parts. Today, Catholic and Protestant churches stand side by side, and the two denominations coexist peacefully. "Praise God!" exclaimed the old man, and then he seemed to sink into deep thought. "I forgive him! If God has already punished him, I must forgive him, for the Lord told us to forgive our enemies, and I have no enemy other than the emperor." What happened immediately afterwards was astonishing. The old man seemed to fall into a blissful trance. His frail figure began to fade as he acquired a faint glow, which grew until it became a small white light of dazzling intensity, illuminating us as if it were a tiny star. A moment after this extraordinary metamorphosis, the light was rapidly absorbed into the great white galaxy shining above our heads, and I suppose it went to merge with it. Was that the heaven my conscience spoke of? 6. After that extraordinary event, the young Eloisa seemed to be deeply shaken. It was as if her grandfather's strange disappearance had made her happy, but at the same time saddened her. She seemed unable to bring order to her conscience. She exchanged an expressive glance with me, hoping that I would give her a reasonable explanation. But I was in the same situation as her, and I didn't know how to react either. I wondered what the meaning of life was for us, after striving to keep our conscience free of remorse and going through the bitter ordeal of death, we end up becoming a tiny portion of energy and being drawn to a star, assuming, of course, that we do not first go through the painful purgatory. It did not make much spiritual sense, but if it had happened, it must be so. On the other hand, the old man's final expression seemed serene and happy, as if he were experiencing a blissful spiritual peace, undoubtedly a logical feeling for someone preparing to ascend to heaven. So, is energy itself heaven and the cause of happiness? What a disappointment for theologians! "I think your grandfather has ascended to heaven," I ventured to suggest, not without serious doubts about the meaning of that phenomenon. "Do you think so?" "Without a doubt; when he passed away, he seemed very happy." "And will he be reunited with my parents?" "That must be so." "It's strange, I expected ascending to heaven to be something different." "How did you expect it to be?" "I'm not sure, but an angel should have appeared and taken him with him, because angels must know the way to heaven..." "Yes, it would have been more poetic and spiritual, but we humans have too much imagination. Things must be simpler in reality." "So my poor grandfather is now resting in peace." "I think so." "You know, I think so too, and I thank you very much for your help. If it hadn't been for you, God knows how long we would have remained in this darkness. Now I too can leave and rest in peace, together with my family; yes, at last we will all be reunited again..." Hearing her wishes, I felt an indescribable bitterness, because, despite having known her for only a short time, I already felt a paternal affection for that sweet creature. Besides, I was terrified at the thought of being alone again in that dreadful abyss. Perhaps unconsciously I had believed that she was the person who would help me out of purgatory, as the voice of my conscience had warned me. And if that were the case, what would become of me if she also vanished? I think I behaved like a true egoist who did not deserve to leave that place, and I communicated my fears to her without thinking about her own salvation. "Please, Eloisa, don't go! Now I am the one who needs your help." "My help? But what can I do for you?" "I don't know; I'm not sure." "If I can help you, I will, but I..." "You miss your family!" "Yes, sir, but I also care for you. Tell me what to do, and I will gladly do it. I have spent so much time in this place that a little more doesn't matter." I felt my conscience twisting inside my spirit, and for that blackmail I deserved to go straight to hell. It wasn't fair to keep her if it wasn't her wish; I should let her go. It was the fairest and most honest thing to do. On the other hand, it wasn't a great sacrifice I made for her grandfather. But before I had time to show my regret, I noticed her figure glowing slightly. Yes, she was transforming into energy and would soon disappear like her grandfather into that majestic white galaxy. I didn't want her to leave with regrets, so I hurried to be honest with her. "Actually, Eloisa, you've already helped me enough by allowing me to do a good deed for your grandfather. Now you can leave without regrets too. Reunite with your family, which is what you want most." "You make me very happy, but I will not forget you. I will pray for you when I am in heaven." Her beloved figure became brighter and brighter, and before disappearing completely, she removed the small brooch that held her cap in place and offered it to me. "Here, so you won't forget me either! I don't need it in heaven." As soon as I took the brooch, she vanished completely and her little light ascended rapidly toward the great white galaxy, as her grandfather had done moments before, leaving a faint trail of light in that gloomy darkness. Then silence fell again, and I found myself alone again, floating in that unknown space, my soul shattered, but my conscience clear, for I had done what I had to do and not what I wanted to do. 7. A few agonizing moments passed in which I could not take my eyes off the great white galaxy where, somehow, Eloísa would already have been reunited with her loved ones. I wondered what I should do to be reunited with them too, but I could not find in my conscience the fault that kept me in that purgatory. "Hermann, you have already done enough to deserve to go to heaven, but your time has not yet come. As I told you the other time, heaven can wait. "Are you the voice of my conscience again?" "Your own inner voice." "What do you mean, my time has not come?" "This time you will be saved, but you have been dead for a few moments. Your heart will beat again." "And everything I have seen and done has happened in just a few moments?" "That's right, time here is relative." "You know, now I'm not sure I want to go back to life. Down there, there are too many contradictions and temptations to act unjustly, and now I know how important it is to live with a clear conscience." "Hermann, you've learned a lot in a very short time." "It's been a great experience, one I would never have had if I hadn't gone through this ordeal." Theologians have written so much nonsense... Besides, wherever I am, I miss young Eloísa. — Your young friend Eloísa is in heaven. — So heaven... — Is energy. — And hell... — Is simply matter. — And purgatory must be an intermediate state. "That's right. Those who die with a guilty conscience cannot rise as spirits and remain attached to their corpses, even if they are cremated." "Like zombies, the living dead!" "Souls in torment, clinging to the very matter they desired so much in life. And so they will remain for centuries until the universe itself collapses, for they have no chance of being transformed into energy." But those who die with a clear conscience are immediately transformed into pure energy, which gives them a glorious feeling of happiness and joy. "And those of us who have something pending with our conscience are trapped in this dark void." "Indeed, but you can get out of here, not out of hell." "And that's it? Is that the meaning of our existence?" — It's that simple and natural. It's the interaction between the body and the soul and its conscience, but it only occurs among beings with understanding; the unconscious and those without understanding go straight to heaven. Only humans are faced with the moral dilemma of judging our actions and acting with justice and morality. — Then the world must be full of zombies! — It is, unfortunately for them. Especially in and around cemeteries. — Clarify a few more things for me. Do angels exist? — Of course! They are small entities of energy that wander through space and eventually reach inhabited worlds. — Inhabited worlds? Are there other inhabited planets? — Millions! Almost as many as there are stars. It is rare to find a star that does not have one. — Continue with the angels. "They have the ability to transform themselves into the image that suggests itself to those who approach them. They are usually biblical characters, especially in the form of a virgin or Jesus Christ himself, but they normally appear as winged beings—they have to stay in the air somehow!" "And God? Who is God? Is he also some form of energy?" — I can answer anything that is a natural phenomenon, but don't ask me about the supernatural. Only God knows who God is, the rest is pure fantasy! God is inconceivable. Consciousness cannot reach an answer. It is a matter of faith. You either believe in Him or you don't, but don't try to prove His existence. — There's no answer even in purgatory! Anyway, I resign myself to returning to life and its temptations, but now I will no longer fear death! 8. Suddenly, the lights came back on in my apartment and I was startled by the sharp beeping of the radio alarm clock that had been deprogrammed. The printer, which had been left on, also went crazy, trying to get back online. It was as if those devices also felt that the energy flowing through their circuits was bringing them to life. I woke up without the slightest feeling of pain or discomfort, and my heart, after the initial shock, seemed to be beating normally again. I didn't want the vivid memories of my experience in purgatory to fade, but slowly I became aware of the situation and began to doubt that it had really happened. The most reasonable explanation was that it had been a dream, but at least I shouldn't consider it a nightmare. It had its moral lesson and some interesting explanations. In times of great spirituality, I would have considered it a vision, and it might even have served to found a new religion, but fortunately those times had passed, and experiences of this kind always had a reasonable explanation. The image of the young Eloísa also faded, and it even seemed simply absurd to me that a specter from almost five hundred years ago could wander through space, vanish, turn into a tiny ball of luminous energy, be absorbed by a galaxy, and claim that this was heaven. I had probably read about it somewhere and stored it in my subconscious. "But why did an atheist like me dream about creatures going to heaven and voices explaining the nature of angels to me?" I thought aloud. "What is in my subconscious that causes me to have these kinds of dreams? From now on, I have to pay more attention to what I read. No more metaphysical and incorporeal beings, and certainly no more theological readings, no matter how absurd they may seem to me." Finally, I convinced myself that it had simply been a dream and that I had been influenced by the sudden darkness that had enveloped the apartment. But, remembering, now vaguely and hazily, the young Eloísa, deep down I wished it had been real. "Anyway, whatever it was, it was a good dream," I consoled myself. "Now I'll have to reprogram this damn clock radio and search again for all the stations I had already memorized." But as I reached for the clock, a small silver brooch in the shape of a rose with open petals fell from my hand. All my hair stood on end, and my heart beat so hard and fast that for a moment I thought I would truly die this time. "So it wasn't a dream, but really happened?" I said to myself in anguish. "Indeed, Hermann, it was real, and now you know why you were thrown into purgatory." "You again! "For your disbelief!
Hermann in Purgatory Author: Jaime Despree 1. When I tell you where I am, you will surely think I am crazy, or that I have smoked marijuana. Even worse, that I have taken some powerful hallucinogen, such as LSD, or perhaps that I have mistakenly eaten some poisonous mushroom that has caused me to have strange visions. I haven't done any of that, and you can't even say that I have a disposition prone to hallucinations. Quite the contrary: I am realistic, sober, and rational. I consider myself little less than an atheist and don't let my emotions get the better of me. Nor can it be said that I have an overactive imagination, and I am not at an age where my mind plays tricks on me. But, incomprehensibly, here I am, and I don't even know how I got to this scary place. I only remember that I was sitting comfortably in my armchair, reading a complicated book on metaphysics—as I said before, I am a rationalist and therefore fond of philosophy—savoring a steaming cup of coffee, when suddenly the lights in my apartment went out and I was left in complete darkness. I reacted with absolute calm. First, I waited a few moments, convinced that it was a temporary power outage. Then I put down the book, relaxed, and reflected on the complicated reasoning of what I had just read. Since I couldn't make much sense of it, I got up and, groping my way, made my way to the kitchen, not without bumping into the coffee table in the living room. I knew I had a small flashlight in a drawer, but I rummaged through the junk in it without finding it. This frustrated me and even put me in a bad mood, which was unusual for me. I resigned myself to staying in the dark for as long as the power outage lasted, and, stumbling again over the coffee table in the living room, I returned to my armchair. There I waited for the lights to come back on, but they didn't! Barely a couple of minutes had passed when I had the alarming sensation that the armchair was disappearing and I could no longer feel it. Moments later, millions of stars began to appear, first faintly, but soon with extraordinary brightness and intensity, forming galaxies and constellations. And there I was, floating in space, in the midst of a terrifying darkness, illuminated only by the pale glow of the stars, with no idea what had happened to me or why I was in that extraordinary place. I had the feeling that I had lost my body, because I felt neither cold nor heat, only a strange sensation of neutrality and well-being. But, as I began to fear, it was clear that I had not become a spirit, but remained apparently intact, just as I had been sitting in my armchair. I could walk as if I were walking on water, without feeling the ground; I could move, change position, turn upside down or lie down, because in reality I had no reference point to establish my position. Wherever I looked, there was only an immense, dark space, full of bright and spectacular galaxies, because from the strange place where I was, I could see their masses and vapors of bluish, purple, and red tones in all their splendor, in spiral shapes and other more deformed and capricious forms. If I had applied myself more in school to the study of astronomy, I could surely have recognized some of these galaxies, especially the Milky Way, and I could have gotten at least a rough idea of where I was, but in my initial daze I didn't recognize any of them, so I was completely lost and disoriented. I didn't feel dizzy, because I didn't have the sensation that I could fall anywhere in particular. There was nothing solid around me, no planet, satellite, or even meteorite that I could fall on. It was like floating in water, but without feeling its wetness. I tried to come to some reasonable conclusion and immediately realized that I had simply fallen asleep and was in the middle of a nightmare. I reacted with some energy, trying to wake up, because the situation was not exactly pleasant, but it was all useless. I assumed that I had fallen into a deep sleep from which I was having trouble waking up and that it was just a matter of being patient and letting that bad dream pass and seeing where else it would take me. What may have been several hours passed, because I didn't have a clear sense of time either, and, strangely for a dream, floating in the middle of that nothingness, I finally fell asleep! 2. "Sir, sir; wake up, sir! Someone with a strange high-pitched but muffled voice was shaking me. I woke up convinced that my nightmare was over and that I would find myself back in my comfortable apartment in Berlin. Before taking stock of the situation, I promised myself that I would never read another book on metaphysics, which I blamed for that bad dream. But that was not to be, and Berlin would have to wait. The nightmare continued, and I was still suspended in nowhere, surrounded by the same dark, abysmal spectacle. Despite the darkness, I could make out who had woken me up, and although I have always tolerated strange people, this individual provoked an instinctive rejection in me. He was a gaunt old man, hunched over and trembling, dressed in what looked like a doublet like the ones I had seen in some 15th or 16th century engravings, of an indescribable brown color, cinched with a thick cord tied at the waist. His breeches reached down to his knees and covered his skeletal calves with white stockings, but they were probably darkened by dirt. He covered his head with a small felt cap, as faded as the rest of his clothes, which covered a whitish skull, while his sparse hair blended in with a long, matted gray beard that reached down to his waist. But despite his bizarre appearance, his gaze was kind and his movements were slow and shaky, which, despite his horrible appearance, suggested to me that he was possibly a good person. I haven't mentioned that he was carrying a huge sack, which apparently contained something of great value, because he didn't even bother to unload it, and besides, there was nowhere to put it. "Do you have anything you don't need that you can give me?" he asked me without waiting for us to introduce ourselves. But I didn't want to waste the unexpected presence of this strange person to find out where I was, and a torrent of hurried and somewhat disordered questions came out of my mouth: "But where are we? Who are you? Why are we floating in space? Where the hell did you come from?" This is just a nightmare, isn't it? The old man didn't seem fazed, and as if he hadn't heard me, he insisted on his demand: "You can give me anything, I'll see what it's good for later." However, I insisted: "But at least tell me who you are and where you came from." "Ah, you want to know that. But can't you see? I'm a poor old man who makes a living begging around here! What else do you want to know? Oh, yes, where we are, and what do I know; ask someone who is more cultured than me! But you must have something you don't need. Why don't you give me your shoes? Shoes are not necessary here. It was clear that I would get nothing out of that conversation, but I couldn't bring myself to waste the opportunity to clarify my absurd situation to some extent. "All right, all right; I'll give you my shoes if you answer one last question. After all, in nightmares you can give away your shoes and whatever else you want, because it's just a bad dream and that's it. But at least tell me your name and where you come from." "I'll be grateful if you give me your shoes, but I can't answer your question. I forgot that a long time ago. I only remember the soldier who stabbed me in the chest with his spear. Do you want to see the wound? He was a damn Catholic mercenary of the Antichrist, born at the wrong time, of Emperor Charles, but don't ask me any more questions." Will you give me your shoes now? "Emperor Charles? Do you mean Charles V?" The old man made a gesture of disgust and tried to spit, but no saliva came out. "The same bastard!" So that ragged old man must have been about five hundred years old, and he was dead! And wasn't I dead too? As a nightmare, it had gone too far. Normally, in other bad dreams I had had before, I used to wake up when my life was in danger, either because I was about to be run over, fall off a cliff, or be violently attacked by someone. But now I had suffered the same shock and emotional turmoil, but I hadn't woken up! "So... you're dead, and I must be too." The old man did not dispel my doubts or seem to have heard me, and he insisted once more on his pleas: "I've already told you everything I know, and you promised me that..." "All right, I'll give you my shoes. What the hell use are they to me now that I'm dead?" The old man seemed pleased and, with great difficulty, unloaded the huge sack so he could put my shoes in it. Although I knew it would be useless, I dared to ask him one last question. "But, for God's sake, what do you carry in that sack?" "I've already told you, things with which I earn an honest living." "In a place like this?" "You have to earn a living everywhere." "But you're dead!" "Me, dead? How absurd! It would take a hundred pikes like the one that pierced my chest to finish me off." "Then I..." "If you promised to give me your shoes, don't waste any more of my time." The old man was clearly disturbed and unaware of his condition. The worst part was that I was also on the verge of losing my mind. I had to try to calm down, give him my damn shoes, and leave him alone to try to reflect on this strange situation, if that was possible. "Thank you, and may God reward you." He barely thanked me, put my shoes in the sack, hoisted it back onto his hunched shoulders, and with an unsteady but determined gait, I watched him walk away until he disappeared into the darkness. 3. That mysterious old man left me in a state of agonizing mental confusion. Something truly serious had happened to me, but what? I couldn't be dead, because there was no reason for it. My health is reasonably good. Perhaps I suffer from a stomach ulcer due to my frequent heartburn, which I should have had checked out by a doctor to put my mind at rest. But that's not a cause of death. It's true that I overdo it with the mustard on my hot dogs, but I can't help myself. I may also overdo it with coffee and smoke more than I would like, but I lack the willpower to quit. Maybe my heart was weak without me knowing it. Or maybe my blood pressure was very high and I had a heart attack, but the last time it was taken, it seemed normal. Besides, these things don't just happen out of the blue; I should have had some prior symptoms: palpitations, chest pain, something, I say! But last night I was perfectly fine, only that unexpected blackout happened, and if I hadn't stumbled over the table, I might have thought that the person who got up to look for the flashlight was already a spirit. But I stumbled twice, so I was still alive. And then everything happened quickly. Was that when death came upon me suddenly and insensibly? It's not possible; no, that couldn't have happened to me! "Unfortunately, it did happen to you. You did indeed suffer sudden cardiac death." "Who...?" "Don't ask who is speaking to you, because I can't answer you. I am speaking to you through your conscience." Begin to get the idea, because you are dead and you are nothing more than an antibody, the specter of what you were physically at the moment of your death. Perhaps you will understand it better if I tell you that you are composed of antimatter. A subtle matter prior to energy. You are similar in every way to what you were at the moment of your death, except that now you have no sensations, because you are all spirit and mind; that is, you have full awareness of good and evil, but you lack sensitivity. Since you want to know where you are, don't be surprised if I tell you that you are in purgatory, an intermediate space between heaven and earth. Something, which is not so serious as to deserve hell, must weigh on your conscience when you have not gone directly to heaven. Do not be alarmed, you can get out of here, but someone has to help you so that you can free yourself from the guilt of your conscience. However, I warn you that this may take years or perhaps centuries. Here, time is cosmic, and a thousand years is a relatively short period of time. "So I'm dead!" "Unfortunately, yes." "And you are the voice of my conscience." "That's right." "And I'm in Purgatory." "At least for the moment, you are here." "For some fault I have committed that still weighs on my conscience." "That is the reason." "But what fault is that, if I may ask?" "That's up to you to find out; that's what your conscience is for." "But I must have committed thousands of sins in the course of my life. How can I know which one is the reason I'm in Purgatory?" "Only you have the answer. Now you'll have plenty of time to find out. Heaven can wait." "Heaven? But what is heaven?" "You'll know as soon as you free yourself from your guilt." "For the voice of my conscience, you're not very talkative." "Goodbye, Hermann." "How do you know my name?" "Remember, I am your conscience. I knew it from the very day you knew it. Good luck on your long journey, Hermann. Remember: only someone who helps you can get you out of this place." The voice of my conscience said nothing more, leaving me in agonizing perplexity. Then hundreds of images and thoughts assailed me, depressing me even more. If I was really dead, who would discover my body? Would my colleagues at the library be concerned and come to my apartment to check on me? Luckily, I left a copy of my key with the building manager, so they won't have to break down the door. Well, at least my poor deceased parents will be spared this upset. And where will they bury me? I'm sure they'll cremate me and throw my ashes into the crematorium's trash container. But what about my bank account? Who will get my savings? And what will happen to my email account? No one but me knows the password. I must have written it down somewhere easy to find. Will my more than 150 Facebook friends wonder why I'm no longer posting? Which of them will break the news of my death, and what will they say in their comments? Thank goodness I don't have a Twitter account, at least! But what am I thinking? I just died and I'm worrying about these stupid trifles! I must calm down, face the facts, stop worrying about what I've left behind, and focus on my salvation. This darkness is unbearable! How am I going to wander around in this gloomy darkness for a thousand or two thousand years? I won't even be able to keep track of time! That crazy old man has been here for almost five hundred years and is still the same as on the day he died, convinced that he is still alive. There are no days or nights here; there is no time for waking and no time for sleeping. So how am I going to get an idea of the passage of time? But who can help me get out of here, and what can they do for me? My consciousness is clouded and I can't think clearly. It's better to let my mind rest and think of nothing, absolutely nothing. Isn't it absurd to be dead and still think? 4 For a few moments, I managed to free myself from my distressing thoughts by focusing my attention on contemplating one of the most spectacular galaxies in sight. It was spiral-shaped, but with irregularities. The center was intensely bright white, and as it expanded, the tones changed from pinkish to violet, and the shreds of dense nebulae at the edges were pale blue. The faint light that illuminated me probably came mainly from that fantastic galaxy. I would have liked to know its name, which was surely familiar to astronomers on Earth. When I had managed to calm my excited spirits with that extraordinary vision, I was startled again because I thought I saw, outlined in the glow of the galaxy, and moments later I was astonished to find myself face to face with a young woman dressed in the style of the old German peasant women, with a white camisole and a red bodice with exquisite embroidery; long skirts down to her ankles, covered with an apron. Her small feet were bare. She was perhaps no more than twenty years old, with long blonde hair down to her waist, which she wore in two long braids, covered with a white cap, fastened with a brooch, probably made of silver, in the shape of a rose with open petals. Her features were pleasant but sad. But the most amazing thing was that she was holding one of my shoes in each hand, the ones I had given to the crazy old man just a few moments ago. She approached me with a certain shyness and embarrassment, and handing me the shoes, she said: "Here, sir, your shoes. My grandfather shouldn't have asked you for them, and you were very kind to give them to him. "Your grandfather? That crazy old man is your grandfather?" "That's right, sir. But he's not crazy, just a little confused. That's all. Well... goodbye, sir, and we apologize, but now I have to go back to my grandfather." With some hesitation, as if she expected me to stop her, she turned around and I could see a horrible wound on her back, tearing part of her dress. Then I realized that perhaps she and the old man had died for the same reason, pierced by the pikes of Charles V's Catholic mercenaries. "Wait, wait! Don't leave without telling me who you are and how you got here." "What do you want me to say? I can't stay long. My grandfather will be missing me by now." "I just want to know how... how... I mean, how you died!" "Oh, that. My grandfather and I were killed by the Catholics on the same day." I tried to run away, I ran as fast as I could, but they stabbed me in the back with a spear. I didn't die right away, and I was able to crawl to where my grandfather was, who tried to help me. Then the same soldier mercilessly killed him too, stabbing him in the chest with his spear while he was holding me in his arms... "Evil man!" "Yes, these Catholic mercenaries were very cruel. "So, are you Protestants? "Yes, sir; Lutherans, and that's the only reason they killed us. "And where did this happen? "We lived in the beautiful city of Magdeburg. "Ah, it was during the siege of Magdeburg. "Yes, sir; they destroyed everything. They killed children, women, and the elderly, without mercy. And they called themselves Christians!" We both remained silent for a few moments, overwhelmed by the image of those horrible killings. "It was terrible, no doubt..." "Was? Do Catholics no longer kill Protestants?" "Of course not! They have been living in peace with each other for centuries." "Is that true? My grandfather should know! That's great news, and it might bring him back to his senses." "Apparently, he is still not aware that he is dead." "That's the problem. He thinks he's alive and continues with his routine, as if he were in Magdeburg. You see, he used to collect things that people gave him because they were useless and sell them at the market. That way he earned a few coins to help out at home. I was employed as a maid in the Burgomaster's house. He was a good man, whom the Catholics must have killed too! "And your parents? "They died during the last plague epidemic. Now they must be in heaven. If you could convince my grandfather, he could leave this horrible place and go to heaven too. Deep down he's a good man, but he's full of hatred for the emperor. "If you think so, I can try. "Will you do that for me? Will you really try? "Of course; of course. It costs me nothing. The poor creature rubbed her hands together with joy, and for the first time since I had known her, I saw a smile on her lips and her expression became more cheerful and youthful. "Wait here, it won't take a minute!" "Tell me your name first." "Eloisa; I think, because that's what my grandfather calls me." And she disappeared into the darkness from whence she had appeared. For a moment, I thought that sweet creature had never been there and that she had been an apparition caused by my altered consciousness, which, since her voice had warned me, was desperately searching for someone to help me out of that purgatory. But when I saw that she had my shoes in her hand, I was glad, because it was proof that the young woman had been there, and she would surely return with her grandfather, just as she had promised me. The paradox was that I was going to be the one to help someone out of that dark place. 5. There was another terrifying silence, although for a moment I thought I heard a strange sound, like the high notes of an organ, with a certain harmony, but without forming a specific musical phrase. It was a monotonous tone, sometimes lower and sometimes higher. The sound was pleasant and solemn, but at the same time terrifying, because it seemed to come from the galaxies. Sometimes it faded away completely and absolute silence reigned. Would I have to listen to that spectral music for the thousand or two thousand years I remained in that purgatory? Fortunately, the arrival of the old man and the young Eloisa took me out of that distressing assumption. "Sir, tell my grandfather what you told me. He must believe you." The old man looked at me incredulously, but he seemed restless and expectant. I tried to speak with confidence and be as convincing as possible. The young woman gently pushed the old man closer to me and unloaded him from his bulky sack. "It's true, sir, and you must believe me. For years, Catholics and Protestants have lived together in peace and harmony. "I can't believe it; you must be a Catholic and you're trying to deceive me, but I will not renounce my faith, I would rather die a thousand times! "Grandfather, don't be so stubborn!" the young woman reproached him. "There are no more religious wars in Germany. Charles V is dead, and so are his successors! "The emperor is dead? "Completely! Almost five centuries ago!" "But who are you, and how do you know all this? Are you an emissary of the Protestant League?" "No, no; that was many years ago. But I am also dead. You have been in this purgatory for a long time, and I have just arrived from the world of the living. Things have changed a lot in the world since you died." "You must believe him, Grandfather, he means well. This gentleman doesn't want to hurt you. He's a good person; he gave you his shoes!" the young woman interceded again. The old man seemed affected, as if he were struggling with himself. He exchanged a questioning glance with his granddaughter, and she nodded vigorously. "So, I'm dead, and there's no point in collecting useless things around here..." "No, Grandpa, it's no use anymore; you'll never be able to sell them at the market. It's all over for us. Now all we have left is to earn our place in heaven, and this good man can help us." The old man remained confused. His calves trembled, and he continued to exchange anguished glances with his granddaughter. Finally, it seemed to me that he had accepted the facts, because he approached his granddaughter, squeezed her hand, and exclaimed in despair: "So that soldier killed us both on the same day..." "Yes, Grandpa." "And you've known all this time!" "I tried many times to convince you, but you were stubborn." The old man seemed calm and resigned. He turned to me and asked if I knew how the emperor had died. "Sick and tired of fighting all the princes of Europe, he retired to a monastery in Spain..." "Did that Antichrist become a monk?" "Oh, no, not at all. He remained the same arrogant and fanatical character as always, like all the Habsburgs of that time. But in his later years, people lost respect for him. Even the monks and locals at the monastery made his life miserable. Not even his son had much respect for him." "The young Philip?" "Yes, that's right. He finally died after a painful agony, a victim of malaria, although from a very young age he had suffered from the painful disease of gout, so common among princes at that time." "God punished him!" "In his last days, he must have suffered from great remorse, because he practically lost his mind. He had the monks of the monastery celebrate his funeral while he was still alive and remained inside his own coffin. "He must have gone straight to hell," the young woman interrupted me. "Without a doubt! "And what happened next? "Unfortunately, his son Philip was no better than him and provoked a long war between Catholics and Protestants. But finally, a peace agreement was signed, deciding that northern Germany would be mainly Protestant and southern Germany mainly Catholic, but with religious freedom in both parts. Today, Catholic and Protestant churches stand side by side, and the two denominations coexist peacefully. "Praise God!" exclaimed the old man, and then he seemed to sink into deep thought. "I forgive him! If God has already punished him, I must forgive him, for the Lord told us to forgive our enemies, and I have no enemy other than the emperor." What happened immediately afterwards was astonishing. The old man seemed to fall into a blissful trance. His frail figure began to fade as he acquired a faint glow, which grew until it became a small white light of dazzling intensity, illuminating us as if it were a tiny star. A moment after this extraordinary metamorphosis, the light was rapidly absorbed into the great white galaxy shining above our heads, and I suppose it went to merge with it. Was that the heaven my conscience spoke of? 6. After that extraordinary event, the young Eloisa seemed to be deeply shaken. It was as if her grandfather's strange disappearance had made her happy, but at the same time saddened her. She seemed unable to bring order to her conscience. She exchanged an expressive glance with me, hoping that I would give her a reasonable explanation. But I was in the same situation as her, and I didn't know how to react either. I wondered what the meaning of life was for us, after striving to keep our conscience free of remorse and going through the bitter ordeal of death, we end up becoming a tiny portion of energy and being drawn to a star, assuming, of course, that we do not first go through the painful purgatory. It did not make much spiritual sense, but if it had happened, it must be so. On the other hand, the old man's final expression seemed serene and happy, as if he were experiencing a blissful spiritual peace, undoubtedly a logical feeling for someone preparing to ascend to heaven. So, is energy itself heaven and the cause of happiness? What a disappointment for theologians! "I think your grandfather has ascended to heaven," I ventured to suggest, not without serious doubts about the meaning of that phenomenon. "Do you think so?" "Without a doubt; when he passed away, he seemed very happy." "And will he be reunited with my parents?" "That must be so." "It's strange, I expected ascending to heaven to be something different." "How did you expect it to be?" "I'm not sure, but an angel should have appeared and taken him with him, because angels must know the way to heaven..." "Yes, it would have been more poetic and spiritual, but we humans have too much imagination. Things must be simpler in reality." "So my poor grandfather is now resting in peace." "I think so." "You know, I think so too, and I thank you very much for your help. If it hadn't been for you, God knows how long we would have remained in this darkness. Now I too can leave and rest in peace, together with my family; yes, at last we will all be reunited again..." Hearing her wishes, I felt an indescribable bitterness, because, despite having known her for only a short time, I already felt a paternal affection for that sweet creature. Besides, I was terrified at the thought of being alone again in that dreadful abyss. Perhaps unconsciously I had believed that she was the person who would help me out of purgatory, as the voice of my conscience had warned me. And if that were the case, what would become of me if she also vanished? I think I behaved like a true egoist who did not deserve to leave that place, and I communicated my fears to her without thinking about her own salvation. "Please, Eloisa, don't go! Now I am the one who needs your help." "My help? But what can I do for you?" "I don't know; I'm not sure." "If I can help you, I will, but I..." "You miss your family!" "Yes, sir, but I also care for you. Tell me what to do, and I will gladly do it. I have spent so much time in this place that a little more doesn't matter." I felt my conscience twisting inside my spirit, and for that blackmail I deserved to go straight to hell. It wasn't fair to keep her if it wasn't her wish; I should let her go. It was the fairest and most honest thing to do. On the other hand, it wasn't a great sacrifice I made for her grandfather. But before I had time to show my regret, I noticed her figure glowing slightly. Yes, she was transforming into energy and would soon disappear like her grandfather into that majestic white galaxy. I didn't want her to leave with regrets, so I hurried to be honest with her. "Actually, Eloisa, you've already helped me enough by allowing me to do a good deed for your grandfather. Now you can leave without regrets too. Reunite with your family, which is what you want most." "You make me very happy, but I will not forget you. I will pray for you when I am in heaven." Her beloved figure became brighter and brighter, and before disappearing completely, she removed the small brooch that held her cap in place and offered it to me. "Here, so you won't forget me either! I don't need it in heaven." As soon as I took the brooch, she vanished completely and her little light ascended rapidly toward the great white galaxy, as her grandfather had done moments before, leaving a faint trail of light in that gloomy darkness. Then silence fell again, and I found myself alone again, floating in that unknown space, my soul shattered, but my conscience clear, for I had done what I had to do and not what I wanted to do. 7. A few agonizing moments passed in which I could not take my eyes off the great white galaxy where, somehow, Eloísa would already have been reunited with her loved ones. I wondered what I should do to be reunited with them too, but I could not find in my conscience the fault that kept me in that purgatory. "Hermann, you have already done enough to deserve to go to heaven, but your time has not yet come. As I told you the other time, heaven can wait. "Are you the voice of my conscience again?" "Your own inner voice." "What do you mean, my time has not come?" "This time you will be saved, but you have been dead for a few moments. Your heart will beat again." "And everything I have seen and done has happened in just a few moments?" "That's right, time here is relative." "You know, now I'm not sure I want to go back to life. Down there, there are too many contradictions and temptations to act unjustly, and now I know how important it is to live with a clear conscience." "Hermann, you've learned a lot in a very short time." "It's been a great experience, one I would never have had if I hadn't gone through this ordeal." Theologians have written so much nonsense... Besides, wherever I am, I miss young Eloísa. — Your young friend Eloísa is in heaven. — So heaven... — Is energy. — And hell... — Is simply matter. — And purgatory must be an intermediate state. "That's right. Those who die with a guilty conscience cannot rise as spirits and remain attached to their corpses, even if they are cremated." "Like zombies, the living dead!" "Souls in torment, clinging to the very matter they desired so much in life. And so they will remain for centuries until the universe itself collapses, for they have no chance of being transformed into energy." But those who die with a clear conscience are immediately transformed into pure energy, which gives them a glorious feeling of happiness and joy. "And those of us who have something pending with our conscience are trapped in this dark void." "Indeed, but you can get out of here, not out of hell." "And that's it? Is that the meaning of our existence?" — It's that simple and natural. It's the interaction between the body and the soul and its conscience, but it only occurs among beings with understanding; the unconscious and those without understanding go straight to heaven. Only humans are faced with the moral dilemma of judging our actions and acting with justice and morality. — Then the world must be full of zombies! — It is, unfortunately for them. Especially in and around cemeteries. — Clarify a few more things for me. Do angels exist? — Of course! They are small entities of energy that wander through space and eventually reach inhabited worlds. — Inhabited worlds? Are there other inhabited planets? — Millions! Almost as many as there are stars. It is rare to find a star that does not have one. — Continue with the angels. "They have the ability to transform themselves into the image that suggests itself to those who approach them. They are usually biblical characters, especially in the form of a virgin or Jesus Christ himself, but they normally appear as winged beings—they have to stay in the air somehow!" "And God? Who is God? Is he also some form of energy?" — I can answer anything that is a natural phenomenon, but don't ask me about the supernatural. Only God knows who God is, the rest is pure fantasy! God is inconceivable. Consciousness cannot reach an answer. It is a matter of faith. You either believe in Him or you don't, but don't try to prove His existence. — There's no answer even in purgatory! Anyway, I resign myself to returning to life and its temptations, but now I will no longer fear death! 8. Suddenly, the lights came back on in my apartment and I was startled by the sharp beeping of the radio alarm clock that had been deprogrammed. The printer, which had been left on, also went crazy, trying to get back online. It was as if those devices also felt that the energy flowing through their circuits was bringing them to life. I woke up without the slightest feeling of pain or discomfort, and my heart, after the initial shock, seemed to be beating normally again. I didn't want the vivid memories of my experience in purgatory to fade, but slowly I became aware of the situation and began to doubt that it had really happened. The most reasonable explanation was that it had been a dream, but at least I shouldn't consider it a nightmare. It had its moral lesson and some interesting explanations. In times of great spirituality, I would have considered it a vision, and it might even have served to found a new religion, but fortunately those times had passed, and experiences of this kind always had a reasonable explanation. The image of the young Eloísa also faded, and it even seemed simply absurd to me that a specter from almost five hundred years ago could wander through space, vanish, turn into a tiny ball of luminous energy, be absorbed by a galaxy, and claim that this was heaven. I had probably read about it somewhere and stored it in my subconscious. "But why did an atheist like me dream about creatures going to heaven and voices explaining the nature of angels to me?" I thought aloud. "What is in my subconscious that causes me to have these kinds of dreams? From now on, I have to pay more attention to what I read. No more metaphysical and incorporeal beings, and certainly no more theological readings, no matter how absurd they may seem to me." Finally, I convinced myself that it had simply been a dream and that I had been influenced by the sudden darkness that had enveloped the apartment. But, remembering, now vaguely and hazily, the young Eloísa, deep down I wished it had been real. "Anyway, whatever it was, it was a good dream," I consoled myself. "Now I'll have to reprogram this damn clock radio and search again for all the stations I had already memorized." But as I reached for the clock, a small silver brooch in the shape of a rose with open petals fell from my hand. All my hair stood on end, and my heart beat so hard and fast that for a moment I thought I would truly die this time. "So it wasn't a dream, but really happened?" I said to myself in anguish. "Indeed, Hermann, it was real, and now you know why you were thrown into purgatory." "You again! "For your disbelief!
