01. The Judgment Council

Meridian was late. Not that this was the first time. However, she needed just a moment to collect herself before she was subjected to the annual judgment of the grade of her soul, which, much to her chagrin, had remained medium-grade for the last five hundred years of her time in the afterlife.

It was very inconsiderate of the council to hold these meetings on the eve of a person's death day. Meridian could be out doing almost anything else, like celebrating, sleeping, or eating at the nice cafe that sold the little donut holes with strawberry frosting, no sprinkles. Yet, here she was, adjusting the twisted skirt of her yellow cotton dress before she walked into the waiting room of the council's office, housed conveniently in the Limbo Building where Meridian worked as a tour guide for newly dead souls.

Commissioner Dotan stood waiting just outside his door with his arms crossed and a frown on his heavily lined face. She'd seen him look this way countless times over the years and she still had not learned her lesson about punctuality. "Ms. King, even in the afterlife we have things to do. Would it kill you to be on time?"

Meridian gave a sheepish grin. "Already dead, Commissioner."

With a scowl, he pointed her into his office and motioned for Meridian to take a seat in front of his massive desk. Once seated, Commissioner Dotan began typing on his computer, eying Meridian every so often as he worked, likely pulling up her massive file. The silence was better than what Meridian knew was coming. She'd much rather sit here for a bit and listen to the clacking of the keys than to hear the commissioner tell her about her subpar soul.

So, Meridian waited patiently, taking in the office that did not change much in the many years she'd been coming here. Atop the commissioner's desk to the left of his computer was a shiny, gold basketball trophy, which still puzzled Meridian, even after all this time. Had he been a basketball player? She didn't think so, and there never seemed to be an appropriate time to ask him either. The only time they ever really interacted was during meetings like this.

She eyed his nameplate that read, "Michael Dotan, Commissioner" in shiny gold letters before her eyes were captured by a domed glass case, to the computer's right, in which floated the Soul Scrolls. The most important artifact in the entire afterlife and the commissioner had it just sitting there on his desk. The Soul Scrolls kept a record of the grade of every soul in the universe, alive or dead. Meridian reached out her fingers, hoping just to graze the glass. She'd seen it many times before, but there was just an aura about it that she could not ignore. Something about it kept calling out to her to touch it.

"Don't touch that," the commissioner admonished without looking away from the computer. He had stopped typing a while ago, and he was now looking intently at his computer screen, the skin between his brow creasing more and more with each scroll of his mouse.

"I just —"

"I know. You were tempted, but impulse control, Ms. King! Do you even know why you're in here?"

Meridian recoiled her fingers and placed both hands flat on her lap, feeling scolded like a child. She didn't see the harm in touching the glass. "I do."

"So, I see no point in holding it off any longer. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

She nodded and looked at the commissioner who continued to scroll through what must be five hundred years worth of information on Meridian. Sometimes it was hard to fathom five hundred years of life (or not life?).

Commissioner Dotan looked up at Meridian, cleared his throat, and steepled his fingers. "As you know Ms. King, you are in our transitional program here in the afterlife and you have been for quite some time. Usually, our transitional program is only for a hundred years, give or take a few, but you've been here five times that. Now I know you have an unusual set of circumstances that prevent you from moving beyond this point —"

"Yes, yes. When I was alive, I fell in love with an immortal man named Omar Rhodes and he said he'd never forget me, so I still exist in his living memory."

"I'm well aware of your situation, Ms. King. Had you let me finish, you would have known that. As I was saying, here in the afterlife, permanent residence can only be granted to high-grade souls and soul improvement happens through reincarnation. As it stands, you can only be reincarnated as long as you no longer exist in living memory. And this is where you have your dilemma. It will be virtually impossible for you to improve your soul to the grade we require here for permanent residence without reincarnation. Each time a soul is reincarnated, new lessons are learned and new experiences are gained. This knowledge, this experience increases the grade of the soul. It is only through this method that a soul improves and becomes the standard we've come to expect here in the afterlife. With your beau being immortal, your memory will live on forever."

"What are you saying, Commissioner?"

"You're reaching the end of the time we can allow for you to stay here in the transitional program. Eventually, and by eventually I mean soon, you will be officially judged."

"And what do you mean by that? What happens then?"

Commissioner Dotan sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling before continuing. "Should you not have the required soul grade, you can no longer remain here."

Meridian tugged at a curl as she contemplated the commissioner's words. I can no longer live here? Where else could I possibly go? "But what does that even mean?"

"It means, Ms. King, that should things play out the way they have been since you arrived here, you will be sent to the Netherworld to live out the rest of eternity."

"But that's not fair! I can't help that I can't be reincarnated!"

"Fair? You've been given five hundred years to improve your soul, Ms. King. I think that's more than fair."

"You said it yourself, Commissioner Dotan. It's virtually impossible to improve a soul without reincarnation. And you have to admit, I'm not that bad. I'm medium-grade, right?"

The commissioner gave Meridian a severe look. It was a look that told her what she was about to hear was significantly worse than anything he'd said previously. "Ms. King, you are correct. You are a medium-grade soul."

"Why do I feel like you're about to burst my bubble?"

"Ms. King, unlike the other souls here in the afterlife, your grade is declining. You're not the first soul to come here after falling in love with an immortal. I swear, they cause such trouble for us."

"So there are others?" Meridian smiled, feeling a tiny ounce of hope tugging at her heart.

"There are others, Ms. King, but they're all in the Netherworld now."

"You could have led with that, you know? So, basically, there's no hope for me."

"Well, of course, there's hope, Ms. King. This is the afterlife, after all. Where would any of us be without faith?"

"Can I cash in some faith for improvement on my soul?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way."

"I still don't get it," Meridian cried, exasperated. "I am a good soul! I do what I'm supposed to do. I'm great at my job. I converted three limbo souls just last week. That must count for something. You can't possibly think judging me on things outside of my control is really fair."

By this point, Meridian had vacated her seated position and was pacing back and forth in front of the commissioner's desk. Every year the meeting with Commissioner Dotan was stressful, but this year turned out to be the absolute worst.

"We're only judging your soul, Ms. King. You've had five hundred years to improve it. That's a lot more than many other souls get."

"According to what you've said, it doesn't matter if I had a thousand years or even a million years because any soul like me — you know the ones, with lovers still alive on earth — gets a one-way ticket to hell. What a crappy way to reward eternal love — damnation!"

"Are you insinuating that you love for reward, Ms. King?" Commissioner Dotan began typing on his computer again, and Meridian began to panic.

"No! I am not. I still love him immensely. I just — I didn't think loving him would cause such a mess when I died. Had I known..."

"Yes?" He leaned forward, still typing.

"Nothing," Meridian sighed and ran her hand down her face. "Had I known, I would have still been with him and loved him because he meant — he means everything to me."

"Love has a way of costing us when we least expect it. We just have to decide if it is worth the price."

"He's worth it." Meridian sat back down and placed her head in hands. "How much time do I have?"

The commissioner typed a few things and then began scrolling before looking grave. "Thirty days."

Meridian gasped. "That's it? How could I possibly — is there any way I could possibly have more time?"

"I'm afraid I cannot give you any more time."

"But you're the commissioner. You hold the Soul Scrolls. You can do anything."

"Ms. King, just because I have the power to do anything doesn't mean that I should. There are rules set in place. Laws that we've established and we abide by. It keeps order."

"Well, if you made them, then you can certainly change them."

Commissioner Dotan shook his head, his lips forming a straight line.

"Well, what do I do then?"

"I suggest getting your affairs in order. In the meantime, business as usual. I believe you have a shift starting in a few minutes."

Meridian was incredulous. "You want me to work after this?"

"Well, you're a good soul, aren't you? You always do what you're supposed to."

"Low blow, Commissioner."

"I assure you it wasn't intended to be," the commissioner stood up and walked around his desk. He placed a hand on Meridian's shoulder and squeezed. "It's just that even in our times of anguish, we should do the right thing. What you give of yourself can multiply into a collective positive consequence."

"Easy for the guy with the permanent spot in the afterlife to say."

He chuckled and let go of her shoulder. "The newly dead souls await, Ms. King."

"Yeah, I know. Alright." Meridian rose from her seat, legs feeling like two masses of lead. She headed for the door and just as she touched the doorknob, she turned back around. "Commissioner, tell me please, has anyone ever come back from the Netherworld. I mean, is it possible?"

There was a twinkle in his eye as he seemed to mull over her question. He stroked his gray beard, eyes boring into Meridian's before he answered. "Yes. Once. A long, long time ago."

"Really?" Meridian just knew if she could just find this person and ask them what to do, she could possibly figure out how to solve her dilemma. There was no way Meridian could go to the Netherworld. And, if she did happen to go, there was no way she could stay there. She wasn't the greatest soul in the universe, but she wasn't the worst either. "Who?"

The commissioner's lips twitched. He eyed Meridian for a few seconds longer, making this a game of patience. It was as if he could read her anxiety and took pleasure in making her wait for his answer. Meridian, although not a punctual person, was not a patient person. Had he been anyone else, she would have cursed or begged for him to say something. In her current circumstance, she thought better of it.

Just when Meridian was certain he wasn't going to tell her and they were just going to continue this awkward staring contest, the commissioner uttered the one word she never thought would answer her question.

"Me."