John Jackson - The 9th Fortress

Light as a fairy, Missy fluttered and danced. Her supreme agility was a sight to see, and I could not help but reach a hand to my shoulders, hoping to find my own personal pair of wings.

"One day," she grinned, as I rubbed the spine of my back.

"So," I shrugged, "what's your job then? Your rank?"

"Life support! Yours. The job required me to keep you on the straight and narrow, advising, warning, supporting you through existence. Life support is the most frustrating task for any angel, but without a doubt the most rewarding. We are the inspirer, Daniel, feeding the subconscious with an urge to write classic works of fiction, to compose an opera of epic beauty, sculpt a David, or paint the Mona Lisa. Course, I could not inspire you to that level of artistry, some do not have it in them, but I gave you my very best shot! I secretly hoped you would remember some fragment of my influence when you awoke here. Some folks do recall their life support and share that special bond right away. Unusual, but it happens."

"I remembered your name, didn't I?"

Missy sighed, and I could only shrink at her disappointment.

"Must have been a pretty dull job," I said. "Like talking to a brick wall. My life wasn't that exciting, either. I did nothing extraordinary; no great achievements there, that's for sure."

"Every life is an epic," she returned, casually. "Some climb mountains, others raise good children, both are great achievements. Will you test me? Oh, do test me!"

She asked the question with an infectious enthusiasm, and took my amused nod as approval to proceed.

"Deep breaths, Missy!" she said, sucking in that crisp air. "From your birth on February 22nd 1971, 8:45 a.m. Ontario, Canada, to your death in that same province, Nov 9th 2012, 20:09 pm…twenty-four minutes ago!" She briefly stalled to enjoy my mystified expression.

"I was there for your first tooth! First day of school! Was watching when they removed your tonsils and then later that afternoon when you lay in bed, thick chocolate ice cream streaming down your front; you were the cutest! I was over the kitchen table when, at six years old, you shaved the hair off the dog's back and reapplied it with jam. My oh my, what a mess!”

"I still have that picture," I mumbled, overwhelmed by this floodgate of forgotten memories.

Missy lowered herself to my right ear, but finding nothing there but wax, she ploughed on. "Ugh, your obstinate mind still hopes you'll wake from this any second! Luckily, I've trained for the fight, and this should convince you otherwise!" She huffed and puffed and…"Your Aunt Audrey? I am the one who urged you to check on her that morning. You got the ambulance just in time, too. I was the one who warned you about wearing a seatbelt an hour before your car hit that tree in Colorado."

I nursed the lump in my hair from that particular accident, whilst Missy parted my fringe to the side she preferred. "An only child, Daniel, your father was a hardworking Scot from Glasgow; your mother came from Bordeaux, and you speak French fluently. Together they made quite a team, and didn't they pour so much love into little ole you!"

She carried on with her facts, but I was lost for the moment in the memory of my parents. Fortunate to have them, I was their, and clearly Missy’s, most treasured possession.

"At thirty-six," she said, almost finished, "you made it to detective sergeant for the Ontario Provincial Police. They were the happiest days of your life. Today is the happiest day of mine, Daniel. Been such a rich experience, and an absolute pleasure to be…"

"Stop!" I demanded, stunned by her battering ram of information. "All of this…It's not possible, is it?"

"Why not?" she returned, softly. "Do tell me why not?"

I ransacked my thoughts for an explanation, and drawing a blank, I replied just as softly. "How can there be an invisible angel bleating about me all the days and nights? How can there be an irrational place like this with no walls, windows, or doors? How can that be?"

Disheartened, Missy tried again. "What makes a heart beat? How can the sun nourish the Earth and the moon attract the seas? The human race is surrounded by miracles: the bees and butterflies, the roses and rainbows, not to mention the profound power of the brain. The universe is strung together by thousands of tiny little miracles Daniel, scattered everywhere. One day soon this new world will seem so old and rational to you, and like all miracles, it will be taken for granted. Trust your eyes and your instincts at a time like this; and trust me, trust that I have always been there and with your best interests at heart, an absolute rollercoaster of emotions, and we rode it together."

The girl fell silent now, allowing me some time to take it all in. No, I wasn't going to wake from some drunken binge on a stranger's sofa. I wasn't going anywhere. Missy had finally pierced her skeptic's shield.

"Dead," I whispered, retracing the steps in my mind. How did I actually die?

The memory returned quicker than I expected; more than a memory, it was a recording fixed in crystal clarity, followed by an injection of pure adrenaline. Everything began to spin now. My lips quivered, my teeth chattered, and all of a sudden, I found myself transported atop that fairground Ferris wheel, with death staring back at me. Before I could relive the experience all over again, however, my mind shut like a book and returned me to the world of white. I vomited down one side of the stone, and Missy came swiftly to prop up my head.

"There is no more pain!" she hissed. "It's over! Open your eyes and breathe! In and out, breathe…"

I now knew how one could lose his mind in a place like this, and where it could be lost. Steadying myself, I wiped my mouth clean with a sleeve, the swirling nausea and vision of death gone, for now. Only the refrigerator drone could be heard for the next few minutes. Tears glittered in my eyes, and when I cleared them, I was struck by an unconditional love written over this young girl's face.

"Is this Heaven, Missy? This place?"

"Heavens no!" she declared, insulted. "Does this look like divine architecture to you?"

"I guess not. How does this usually work then?" I asked, dreading the answer. "You know I never gave money to charity; or any of my time to religion. Does that…put me in trouble?"

"Only religion starts trouble," she returned, further confusing me. "There are no churches here, Daniel, no mosques or synagogues. Religion is a divisive invention, filling voids in some and making the darkness less frightening for others. You will learn that wisdom is the highest of all virtues, not devotion to ancient superstition. Believe in God, Daniel, not religion. Come with me." With elegant haste, Missy pushed forward and pulled me along by the wrist, her wings wafting cold air into my face.

"Where are we going?" I asked, struggling to make my legs work.

"We have an appointment," she answered, over her shoulder. "This minute, an angel of the highest order will be combing through your ledger. Cannot figure who it might be, though. The secrecy is most unusual; the life support is made aware of all things concerning their individual. It's compulsory!"

"A ledger?" I panted. "You mean, like an account?"

"Catching on, Daniel! Your ledger has precisely forty-one pages, each documenting a year of information. Pages show life through your eyes; details you've looked at during your time, no matter how trivial, will be recorded in the ledger."

"What if I was blind?" I asked, and she chuckled like the child she was.

"The ledger doesn't just show images Daniel, it allows the reader to experience you! To wear your shoes, feel your thoughts, and hear your words! It's a conclusive biography!"

Mulling over this daunting information, I felt extremely exposed, stripped naked. My life, my inner most personal thoughts and feelings always open for strangers to read in some supernatural exposé?