'Goldfish in Heaven'

“Goldfish in Heaven”
By J. M. Richard


          Walking along the old cobblestone road, Elisha could have sworn he was in eighteenth century England if it were not for the flying goldfish. Men with absurd wigs on their heads and buckles on their shoes wandered about while even more ludicrous-looking woman following closely behind. Every type of wig imaginable was being represented: the poor-man’s bob, the Count Saxe, Grecian fly, Tyburn scratch and pigeon's wing included.
          On most street corners there was a man that looked vaguely Islamic – having darker skin, a black beard and odd robes – who was ringing a bell and standing beside a red bucket. Also omnipresent were the fruit and vegetable stands, some selling bathroom objects such as sinks and shower curtains between the apples and grapefruits.
          Then, as previously mentioned, there were the flying goldfish. The diversity and coloration of the goldfish was rather impressive. The myriad of fish looked as if they were swimming through the air. A red goldfish of oriental background fluttered around Elisha for a few seconds, stopping for a bit in midair to look at the man.
          Somewhere in the back of his mind, Elisha had the song “Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle” looping around aimlessly.  
          It also did not help that Elisha was fully aware that he was dead. He vividly remembered, whilst getting off of I-95, the eighteen-wheeler going through the red traffic light and right into the side of his compact car. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing on a cobblestone path surrounded by flying goldfish that bubbled their way through the air. It was that kind of day.
          “Ah, there you are,” a voice with an unidentifiable accent said. Elisha turned and batted an overweight goldfish out of the way to see who was speaking. The voice had come from a brown-haired man wearing modern clothes – faded black jeans and a grey t-shirt. He looked unsettlingly normal just then. “And you already realize that you are dead,” the man said with a small but sincere smile. “Perfect.”
          Elisha, for his part, blinked stupidly. “Is this heaven?”
          “Well, your heaven.” The man slowly walked forward and the goldfish parted for him. “Everyone has an introductory heaven created from their memories. Usually it’s their house or workplace. Very often they do not even know that they are dead. You, however, you’re the exception. That is why you’re perfect.”
          Blinking again, Elisha took a step backwards. “Who are you?”
          “Nikoli,” the other man said, giving a slight bow and stopping a few feet away to give Elisha some personal space. His hair had strangely gotten blonder as he got closer. “Another soul here, that is all. I was sent to be your guide.”
          “So you’re not an angel?”
          “Angels were the last Chosen People.” Now his eyes were looking blue. “We’re the current race that God favors in this universe.”
          “What are you talking about?”
          Nikoli shrugged and looked at a wristwatch that didn’t exist. His clothes were turning bluer and lighter in color. “We have a few billions of years left to completely fill you in. In short, humanity is the Chosen Race of God for this universe. There have been dozens of universes and we’re the lucky ones this time around.”
          Elisha saw a bench and walked towards it, feeling an urge to sit down. The song in his head had switched to “Heart-Shaped Box” for some odd reason or another. “So what does this have to do with me?”
          Nikoli slowly followed Elisha to the bench but remained standing. “Each time a new universe is created, God employs the aid of His so-called ‘architects.’ The Chosen Races are basically the labor pool. He finds a few individuals that He likes and, once they die, He asks them to do some construction and planning for Him.”
          “Wait,” Elisha said, ignoring the school of fish that swam past him and into the coat pocket of a middle-aged English gentleman, “you want me to build a universe?”
          “Well, co-design a universe,” Nikoli said as his hair was turning red and his clothes looked more silken. “The goal, as far as I understand it, is to keep making universes until a perfect one is created.”
          “Then what happens?”
          Nikoli shrugged and smiled. “That’s the thing – we have absolutely no idea. I think God intentionally keeps secrets from us just so He can enjoy the look on our faces when He clues us in.”
          Elisha tried to think of something to say but just sat there with his mouth open for a few seconds. He sighed and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry; this is a lot to take in.”
          “You’re wondering about your girlfriend, aren’t you?”
          Elisha looked up. “What happens to her?”
          “She takes a few years but moves on and then marries a professional tennis player. She never loves him as much as she loved you.”
          “How do you know that?’
          “The architects see in four dimensions. Oh, it’s weird at first but you get used to it after a while.”
          “Wait, so you’re an architect?”
          “Yes, and I’m supposed to be taking you as an apprentice.”
          Elisha sighed again and leaned back in the bench, head back so he could look at the rose-colored sky. “I just died; can it wait?”
          “We only have until the end of the universe,” Nikoli said, still smiling a little. By the time Elisha looked back at him, Nikoli looked strangely like a teenager. “You need to be fully prepared to do your job long before then.”
          “Wait,” Elisha said, straightening his back as he sat, “I thought you said that we were to make a new universe....”
          “Well, when the Big Crunch happens, it’ll be time.”
          “The what?”
          “Big Crunch. Eventually the universe – the one you and I both grew up and died in – will collapse in on itself and cause a new Big Bang. When that happens, hopefully it will follow our blueprint.”
          Elisha sat there and found he was staring blankly at the same oriental goldfish that had been bugging him before.
          “Want to get away from the fish?” Nikoli asked, offering a hand and a smile. His hair had turned grey and his clothes were silver and vaguely medieval. “I know of someone’s heaven that contains marshmallow clouds and lemon-drop trees. It rains gumdrops now and then. Oh, and there are a large number of badgers for some strange reason. Don’t ask why – I didn’t.”
          After a few seconds of looking dumbly at the hand, Elisha took it and stood up. He followed Nikoli towards a fountain, the only place where there were no goldfish. A black rectangle the size of a doorway hovered in the middle. Nikoli waded up to it, smiled and motioned for Elisha to follow, and walked through. With a sigh, Elisha went in right behind him.
          It was that kind of day.