The Automated Repayment Plan by J. C. Laird (read 50 shades of grey txt) 📕

It’s not in my job classification anyway, way over my head. Which is fine with me, I’ll stick with being a Messenger. The Department of Time Management is much too complex. But the Boss likes to delegate tasks to his children… that’s us by the way. I mean The Man has to run the whole universe and appreciates our assistance. Of course, that meant there were a few hiccups along the way…

Eyes wide, Jacob’s attention was riveted on the strange man next to him. “Like what?” he asked.

“Well, a couple of the Ice Ages went a bit too long, which necessitated a few alterations in the Master Plan,” Peter replied. “But the biggest snafu was the dinosaurs. One day they were there, and the next they had disappeared. The Boss had to intervene personally to fix that particular time line himself. Heads rolled over that miscue.” Peter hesitated, shaking his head in dismay. “Sorry, bad phraseology, bad connotation. My bad, as they say. The Boss didn’t cut off anybody’s head, although a few angels were transferred to other Departments. Things have been humming along smoothly the last million years or so; you just have to have the right people in the right positions.”

Peter inhaled deeply as he caught his breath. He sighed as he exhaled, his cheeks puffing out, almost like blowing out a candle. “And I understand the idea of time travel also befuddles you, Mr. Anderson. About all I can do to clarify that is to tell you Time is non-linear… more circular you might say. One of my friends in the Here-After, Rene Descartes, is fond of saying ‘I think therefore I am.’ History would exist, of course, because it happened once-upon-a-time…” St. Peter paused to see if Jacob appreciated his wit, but judging from his still rapt expression he did not. “... ahem… but Man’s access to it would be limited to the scope of his consciousness, from birth to death. Theoretically, you could travel anywhere in that loop… but no farther back than your birth, and no farther ahead than your present. I think that was on page 134,472 of the blueprints.”

Jacob was having trouble connecting all the dots. He was suffering from info overload, as outrageous as that information seemed. But he needed to backtrack. “Wait…hold on, hold on… back up, Peter. You said fallen angels?” Jacob was still nervous as hell, but his curiosity level was off the charts.

Peter smiled, sighed again, and rewound. “Yeah, back when there was just Heaven, some of God’s children rebelled because they didn’t like the way He was doing things, so the Boss disciplined them with a trip to Hell saddled with the burden of Time.”

Jacob pondered this for several seconds. “If God created Time ONLY for Mankind, but plagued the angels with the same thing, does that mean…”

“Yes, Man and the fallen angels are one and the same. Um… there’s that pesky terminology thing again. Mr. Anderson, please remember that the ‘fallen angels’ are in reality just His dissatisfied, rebellious children.”

“Okay, but the Bible says these ‘rebellious children’ are in Hell.”

“They are.”

“But that would mean…”

“Bingo.” Peter said with a satisfied smile.

Now Jacob was really alarmed. His head swiveled around, but there was still no one outside to help him. Or to help the man who called himself Simon Peter Barjona, for that matter.

St. Peter was still grinning. “Don’t believe me, do you? There’s a reason no one has interrupted us. And no one will, I’ve temporarily halted Time. The Boss gave me permission to do that if I thought it necessary. Go ahead, go inside and take a look.”

Jacob put his wheelchair in gear and headed for the door, pushing the handicap button when he arrived and letting himself inside. He stopped several feet beyond the door, uncomprehending, the sight before him straight out of a science fiction movie. The large sitting room had a dozen or so people in it, standing, walking, or sitting, in various poses. Frozen. Motionless. Immobile. Unmoving. Silent. He recognized several. Wide eyed, he rolled up to Jimmy Larusso, his next-door neighbor, and reached out and touched him. Incredibly, the figure was solid and unmovable, hard like a granite statue, but warm to the touch. Jacob checked nearby rooms and their occupants. They were the same.

He weaved through the people to the front door and opened it. The world was silent. Two people on the sidewalk stood frozen, posed as if walking. A car was stopped on the street, unmoving, stationary in the traffic lane. A squirrel had made it several feet up a nearby oak tree, but was now just a yard ornament.

He returned to the courtyard where Peter was waiting for him patiently. “This is all really true?” Jacob asked, his jaw hanging.

“Yup.”

Jacob’s head was drowning. “I don’t understand any of this,” he finally croaked.

“There’s only one person who understands everything,” Peter replied. “You’ll have to ask Him when the time comes—geez, there’s that ‘time’ word again.”

Jacob looked around the courtyard and the beautiful day. “It doesn’t seem like this world could be Hell. It’s not really so bad, is it?”

“Compared to Heaven, it most certainly is. Trust me on that,” Peter answered, laughing. “The Boss isn’t cruel, He’s just taken away many of your privileges. But while you’re here, you’re atoning for your past disobedience, suffering the curse of Time and, hopefully, learning how to regain your angel classification while you’re at it.”

“How are we doing, all us fallen angels, his children?”

Peter’s expression turned somber. “Let’s see, now. The Boss dictated a book of instructions for everyone to follow, a book which most people now ignore. He even came down here in human form a while back to give you a little direct guidance, and what do you do? You crucify Him. And just look at what’s going on in your world nowadays.” He shook his head. “I’d say most of His children still have a lot of work to do.”

“But this Time bugaboo puts a limit on our learning curve,” Jacob said.

“True, that’s why it’s a scourge, and that Time limit is controlled by God’s Automated Repayment Plan. The Boss loans each person a certain amount of time for each cycle here, hopefully to fix their shortcomings. You gradually pay back that time through the A.R.P. program. When your time is repaid, you’re done—at least for that particular go-round.

“But what happens when we’ve paid in full, our time is up, and we still haven’t attained the wisdom to regain our angel status?”

Peter leaned forward, elbows on knees, his head resting in the cups of both hands. He sighed one of his heavy exhales, looking dejected. “You’re not listening, Mr. Anderson. Reincarnation. Failure and you could come back again and again with new blocks of time, subject to the Automated Repayment Plan, of course. Again and again until you get it right. And if you think the Time blueprints are tough, the Reincarnation project is a nightmare. The number of volumes… I don’t know how the guys in the Reincarnation Bureau keep track of things. For example, a murderer doesn’t come back as an animal or insect—that’s hokum—but they may have him return as one of his victims. Being in his victim’s shoes and learning what the victim experienced might help him with his next go-round.”

St. Peter allowed several seconds for that information to sink in before he continued. “As you can imagine, reincarnation can get a little repetitious. I wasn’t cut out for that Department. After 20 or 30 reincarnation cycles I thought my head would explode—as you are fond of saying. I’m just glad the Boss has a handle on all this stuff, plus keeping tabs on all the Bureaus and Departments to boot. He must really want his children back.” Peter winked at Jacob. “Of course He is universal, has no Time limits, and has all of eternity to work with.”

“I need to talk to Lilah about all this,” Jacob whispered.

Peter picked up his cane and stood. “Seems prophetic, her buying you that alarm clock.”

“Huh?”

“It predicted an eventful day, chances 100%, I believe it said.”

“How did you know… never mind. But one more question, Peter. Why today’s visit with all this mind boggling information?”

“As you can imagine, your time in this rotation will soon be drawing to a close,” Peter answered.

“Am I going to be recycled again?”

“If you were I wouldn’t be here. No, you’ve done well, you’ll be going Home. The Boss just wanted me to give you the good news, and ease your mind before hand on some of the questions plaguing you. Sort of like icing on the cake—”

“But what about Lilah?” Jacob interrupted.

“Don’t worry, Jacob, she’ll be going back too when her current A.R.P. is fulfilled. I’m sorry, I apologize for not mentioning that earlier. But I have a ton of other assignments today so I’ll let you fill her in on her upcoming trip, if you would.”

Jacob managed to get out of his wheelchair and stand. The two men shook hands. “No problem. How much time do we each have left in our Automated Repayment Plans?” Jacob asked.

“Sorry, I’m not in the Bookkeeping Department, a division of the Bureau of Statistics, and the Boss didn’t tell me before I left. Besides, I don’t think you’re supposed to know, anyway. But Happy Birthday, Jacob. A hundred years is a long time. Celebrate,” Peter said. “I suspect I’ll be seeing you soon, and maybe I can get you in the Bureau of Time Management, since it’s an area you’re interested in. Plus, my buddy Rene is a Senior Advisor there.”

Jacob was going to say something, but glanced over as he heard the door nearby whoosh open and one of the Brookdale attendants walk out. He could see several people moving around inside before the door closed. When he turned back, Simon Peter Barjona had disappeared.

“Enjoying the day, Mr. Anderson? Everything okay?” the young employee asked as he walked up.

Jacob recognized him. “Yes, William, everything’s fine. A busy day, an eventful day. You could say 100% guaranteed.

“Yeah, your big birthday bash is tonight, the big one-o-o. In case I don’t get to see you later, I want to wish you a Happy 100th Birthday, Mr. Anderson.”

“Thank you, William.”

 

Dinner was over, as was the birthday party that followed. The noise makers were silent, the confetti thrown, the cake eaten—a chocolate cake with ten candles, one for each decade of Jacob’s life. The dining room was almost empty. The bus boys were going from table to table clearing the dishes, and the friends at their table had just departed.

“Well, Lilah, your new clock was right, it’s been a very eventful day. And it was a good birthday party, too.” Jacob leaned over and kissed his wife. Now, the next task was at hand. “We need to get back to the room and talk before these old bones get any more tired. I don’t know how much time we have left in the Boss’s Automated Repayment Plan, but I want to pass on some interesting information before we have to leave.”

“Leave… where… repayment plan… what are you talking about, Hon?” Lilah asked

“I’ll tell you a little on the way to our room.” Jacob fired up his wheelchair and they headed for the door. “Earlier today I met St. Peter….”

 

Neither Jacob nor Lilah made it to his 101st birthday. Officially, the coroner determined that the Andersons’ had both died from natural causes, their aged hearts finally coming to a permanent rest after a lifetime of service. True, it was a rarity for two people to die at the same time under those circumstances, but he could find no other explanation for their deaths. The couple had been together for over 65 years, so maybe they had been so attuned to each other…

 

Sheila Newsome, the young nurse’s aide who had discovered Jacob’s and Lilah’s bodies, was talking to several new coworkers over coffee in Brookdale’s break room. She had been the one assigned the unfortunate task two months