A space between life and death
September 1, 2004
“I’m very sorry,” said the beautiful lady in the antique-looking chair, “but I’m afraid you’ve died.”
The room was largely empty, though what there was of it was quite elegant. The floor was a checkerboard of black-and-white marble tiles, the wooden furniture polished and well-crafted—and the ceiling looked very much like that of the Great Hall of Hogwarts at dinner, showing a dazzling view of a night sky.
. . . Granted, the “walls” seemed mostly to consist of a hazy, gray fog, but one couldn’t have everything.
Although, Luna mused, one would think that you’d be allowed to have everything you wanted, having died, and all that . . .
“Your death was painless,” the statuesque woman assured her, clear blue eyes glimmering earnestly. “There wasn’t time for it to hurt . . .” She frowned. “Though I can’t understand just how you got in front of that truck—you literally came out of nowhere!”
“Not quite,” Luna assured her. “It’s just that the Portkey was quite shoddily made, and the handle I was holding onto fell off in mid-trip.” She frowned. “Now I’ll miss seeing my friends at King’s Cross—if I was still alive, I’d be quite motivated to ask for my money back.”
The woman blinked, and Luna frowned mentally now, as well, as she could see the film of non-understanding glaze over her eyes.
“Whatever,” was the woman’s response, as she dismissed Luna’s answer with a shake of her head, sending her pale blue locks flying to-and-fro; clearly, she considered the topic closed.
“In any case,” she continued, “since you died in Japan, and so tragically young—”
“I’m twenty-five, but thank you,” Luna said brightly.
“—you’ve now fallen into my—wait, WHAT?!” the woman blurted, goggling. “You’re twen—REALLY?!”
Luna nodded casually, the other’s jaw hung slackly for a moment in disbelief; she had to admit, she rather enjoyed provoking those sorts of expressions from people.
The woman coughed, attempting to reassert her composure.
“. . . Regardless, you’re still young enough to be in my care—and as the goddess in charge of young people who die in Japan, I, Aqua, am here to present your options from here on out.”
Luna nodded seriously, even as a quiet alarm bell began going off in the back of her mind. The way she’d stressed “young enough” had possessed just a touch of condescension to it; she’d dealt with sarcastic people for far too long not to hear it.
“Now, first,” the goddess said, “you could simply choose to be reborn, lose all your memories and start your life all over again . . .” Her eyes flicked up and down briefly, and she muttered in an undertone, “. . . Maybe you’ll get a fashion sense, this time.
“Secondly, you could choose to go to Heaven,” the goddess continued, before leaning over and whispering conspiratorially, “but between you and me, it’s really boring there: there’s nothing to do by lie around in the sun. You don’t even have a body there, so you can’t ever have sex—!”
“No thanks, I’m British,” Luna said blithely—and considered the return of the flabbergasted expression an ample repayment for the insult she hadn’t been supposed to hear.
Another cough heralded a leading statement. “ . . . Or, there is a third option. You see, there’s a world right out of the video games kids love, and it’s under siege from a terrible Demon Lord. It’s so terrible that no one wants to be reborn there, and the loss of life will mean its doom . . . But if you’re willing to fight, then we’re willing to send you there with your current body and memories, and a special godly cheat power or item!”
Luna nodded, labelling Aqua’s approach as a 6.5 on the Weasley Twin Scale—or as Galen called it, the “used car salesman technique.” There was almost certainly a catch . . .
. . . But then, if it wasn’t a tempting offer, it wouldn’t be effective, would it?
“Here,” the goddess pressed, scattering notebooks before her, “see for yourself.”
Unlike so many of her friends, Luna had never developed the habit of smirking . . . Outwardly, at least. Nevertheless, a similar sensation warmed her insides as she saw things to dissect and analyse.
. . . It was a pity, she reflected, that Hermione and Galen weren’t here. Even leaving aside their psychological comfort value (which was not inconsiderable), they were both brilliant; the former had the most deeply analytical mind she’d ever known, and the latter was fiendishly cunning, when he set his mind to it—
“Come on, you little Christmas Cake space cadet—I’ve got things to do . . .”
Luna frowned, briefly; that wasn’t at all nice . . .
But given her recent inspiration, she knew exactly what to do about it.
“I’ve decided,” she announced. “I’d like my friends as my cheat item, please.”
“Finally,” the goddess exhaled. “Your friends . . .?” She waved her hands dismissively. Yeah, sure—why not? You can’t have that many . . .”
As a runic pattern surrounded the floor beneath her chair, Luna saw another open beneath the goddess, shining columns of light upwards—
And as Luna began to rise, the form-stuffed file folders poured down . . .
And down . . .
“Wh—WHAT?!” Aqua shrieked, suddenly up to her hips, and rising, in forms. “WHAT IS ALL THIS?”
“I assume, the transfer papers for my friends,” Luna said helpfully, as her ascent began to accelerate. “. . . I imagine some of their lives make for a great deal of complicated paperwork,” she offered by way of explanation.
“FOUR OF THESE ARE FOR CATS!” the now neck-deep goddess screamed. “WHY AM I DOING REINCARNATION TRANSFER PAPERWORK FOR CATS?!”
“Because they’re not just friends, they're family, and we’d be unhappy to leave them behind!” Luna called truthfully.
A hint of blue hair was all she saw by now, as a weak muffled voice cried out, “Eris—help . . .”
And the world vanished into light . . .
A Trinity of Blessings Upon a Wonderful World!
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