Arrival
Weirdly, the first thing I heard was that song from Stranger Things. "Lights Out." The one that plays when the monster comes through the wall in season one and he's running through the house. Which is a pretty horrible thing to hear immediately after you die. Luckily, it didn't last long: like a radio tuning, the song flickered for a second and shifted. "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." Full choir, slightly echoey. Not necessarily better, but at least a little more typical. That was brief as well -- a moment later, the tune crackled and became Pachelbel's Canon. There was a brief, bizarre moment of "In The Arms of An Angel," followed by "If I Die Young," followed by what I think was some kind of Gregorian chant.
Whatever strange radio was trying to tune, it seemed to be having some trouble. The static lasted longer and longer between each song, until it eventually subsided into a steady tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
That was the first moment I got scared. I didn't have a mouth or eyes or ears or legs, as far as I could tell, so I couldn't do anything about it, but I sat like a little mote of terror in the ether and listened to the radio tick. I don't know if you can technically say that time passed. That ticking, terrified moment felt infinite.
And then, without warning, there was a sound like an enormous orchestra tuning up. That had always been my favorite sound -- the beginning of a concert, the lights coming down, the beautiful musicians with their shining gold and silver instruments, the conductor tapping her baton on the stand. This time, the lights came up as I heard the orchestra, and I could see -- which meant that I had eyes. A ripple of becoming moved from my head to my toes, and I had some kind of form again, a sensory apparatus tied to a corporeal body.
In any other situation, regaining a body would have taken up my attention. But now that I had eyes, I could see a vast field of fog stretching out before me. The sky and the fog were both gray and blended into each other strangely on the horizon, almost like someone had smudged a charcoal line.
"Hello," a voice said, smooth as an elevator operator. "Thank you for your participation. We are glad to have you here."
It paused for a moment; maybe it expected me to say something. It was a good thing I wasn't responsible for holding myself aloft, or I would absolutely have fallen out of the sky.
"Welcome to the laboratory." The voice said it the British way -- lab-OH-ratory. "You have been requested by seven research teams. Two in the being department: subdepartment gender and subdepartment age. One in the action department: subdepartment walking. One in the perception department: subdepartment colors. Three in the reality department: subdepartment trust, subdepartment Christianity-Protestant, and subdepartment animal companions. Do you have a preference on your area of participation?"
I couldn't even remember most of the subdepartments, but this felt important, possibly eternally so.
"Do you have a preference on your area of participation?" it asked again.
I made a sound like a bug had flown down my throat. "Trust. Or -- okay."
"Reality department: subdepartment trust. I will inform your research supervisor. Are you familiar with the circumstances of your participation?"
"I literally just died." The voice said nothing. "No, I'm not familiar with the circumstances of whatever."
"I will fill you in. Welcome to the laboratory, where we study life. Here, all things exist." Below me, the fog seemed to roil at her words, throwing up tendrils in my direction. "We are making great strides towards lucidity. As a former living human, you are indispensable to our learning process. We will conduct a number of experiments and study your behavior. Of course, when not in a study, you are free to do whatever you want, within existence. Shall we proceed?"
I swallowed. It was one of those overwhelming situations that made me want to go to sleep.
"Is it going to hurt?"
The voice laughed, a smooth, melodic tinkle. "No more than living did."
It seemed to decide that was enough talking, and without intending to, I began descending towards the layer of fog. As I drew closer to the swirling substance, I thought I could see vines, or buildings, or the edges of faces I almost knew, but they faded as soon as I looked at them directly. The fog, surprisingly warm, touched my toes and crawled up my legs like a living thing. I tried to keep my eyes open as it rose over my head, but what had looked translucent from above was now black and dark, and as hard as I tried to hold on, my being slipped into nothingness again.