“Welcome Mr. Fitzgerald … please take a seat.”
The office of Marvin Gladwater was small but opulent. High end, antique artwork from the 21st century adorned the pastel yellow walls and the jet black table and chairs – anchoring the center of the room – were so shiny they practically glowed. Durwood Fitzgerald eased into the seat opposite Gladwater.
“So, Mr. Fitzgerald, how did you hear about Afterlife Adventures?”
Science had made monumental advancements since World Cyber War II, and by the year 2345, a company called Afterlife Adventures, Inc., discovered that a bridge between death and “post-mortal life” did, in fact, exist. Every human life had a “Malleable Vestige,” or MV, after death, but only Afterlife Adventures, Inc., was able to contain it – and offer a vessel allowing it to exist in the world of the living.
“Well,” Fitzgerald began, “I was watching a Continental Omegaball League game on my holographic display cube and saw your commercial. It said you have several different options and I was just curious what those options are. I guess it just got me thinking about what my next move should be. You know … after I’m gone. So, you can actually put my MV into something that’s still alive, is that right?”
“Correct,” Gladwater said. “It’s a shared experience since you’ll be joining a sentient being. You’ve seen those historical presentations featuring what were known as automobiles, haven’t you? Basically, the sentient being is the driver, but you’re along for the ride. We have different tiers, from some that are comparatively inexpensive to others that are – if I’m being honest – extremely pricey. But as you can imagine, jumping from one plane of existence to another and then back again is hardly cheap. Here are a few options for you to consider, based on how many Rhodium Chips you’ve kept in reserve.”
Gladwater snapped his finger and a 3D projection system appeared before Fitzgerald, allowing the potential client to get a brief synopsis of some of the more popular options. Among them were Afterlife Adventure Basic, Afterlife Adventure Plan B, Afterlife Adventure Silver, Afterlife Adventure Platinum, and Afterlife Adventure Ultimate.
“Wow, that Ultimate plan looks awesome,” Fitzerald said, pointing, “aren’t those famous people? I think I recognize one of those guys … isn’t that Doofus McGoofington from the ‘Snort-Laugh Until You Break Wind Comedy Hour?’”
“Indeed. This is our most prestigious option. Some of the top divertissement performers on the planet are part of the Afterlife Adventure. Imagine sharing the consciousness of a retro rap artist like Phil A.O. Soul. Just last year a client joined him right as he was starting his ‘Damn, That’s A Big-Ass Cookie’ tour. What an experience that must’ve been! And another client’s MV was paired with award-winning thespian Ptolemy Heatherington. They got to be part of the popular horror series, ‘Don’t Be Afraid Of That Thing In The Mirror That You Think Could Be a Ghost But You Can’t Say For Sure Because You Just Woke Up And Have Been Sick.’ Of course, that costs 300 Rhodium Chips.”
Fitgerald audibly gasped.
“Good grief,” he said. “That’s way, way too rich for my blood. And, frankly Mr. Gladwell, I’m pretty sure most of these popular ones are out of my price range. But this basic plan … it’s just two Rhodium Chips, which seems like a heckuva deal. I’m a little confused, though. I just see a bunch of squirrels running around in a field. Would that mean you’d place my MV in, like, a park ranger or something.”
Gladwater smiled.
“Actually, we’d place you in a squirrel, Mr. Fitzgerald. Admittedly it’s not the sexiest option, but many people choose this and chances are if you decided to MV as a squirrel, you’re quite likely to meet someone you once knew. We have a testimonial from two MVs who dated during their Learning Pod work as teenagers, lost track of each other, died, and then became reacquainted as squirrels. They likely would’ve married had they not been squirrels who, of course, do not marry. They basically just do squirrel stuff.”
Fitzgerald pursed his lips.
“Hmmm,” he said. “The squirrel option doesn’t sound bad, but how long do they live in the wild – five, 10 years, tops? I’m almost inclined to just let my MV go wherever it goes naturally – the great beyond, or wherever. Then it won’t cost me anything.”
Fitgerald got up and extended his hand.
“Oh, well … thank you for your time, Mr. Gladwater,” he said. “I think for now I’ll pass. I might reconsider it later, though. I’ve always been fond of squirrels.”
“Before you go,” Gladwater said, “we do have a new, experimental option we’ve been workshopping. It’s called the Afterlife Adventure Politics Plan. We place your MV into a person who has held office in the Global Government Alliance for 25 or more years. It’s 10 Rhodium Chips.”
Fitzgerald shook his head.
“Well, like I said, I don’t even want to spend the two Rhodium Chips for the Basic Plan. I’m definitely not gonna spend 10.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Gladwater said. “We put 10 Rhodium Chips in your reserve. Basically, an MV is just a soul, and souls are barely discernable among the bulk of these career politicians. You’d be doing most of the driving yourself.”