Without the Factor

WITHOUT THE FACTOR

by

J.M.MacLeod

  

  Everett Mann remembered… careening off the highway… chiding himself for not wearing his seatbelt. To the best of his knowledge, he’d been alone in the car, yet he distinctly saw someone's slumped form jammed beneath the crumpling dashboard. And how did the windshield remain intact though he had just passed through it?

               Then there was the long, dark tunnel with a light very far off. His velocity was such that he covered the distance in no time. He sprawled headlong and found himself hovering in a glowing light.

               It wasn’t just a light—but a presence, in fact, a person radiating peace and love.

Gradually he realized that this presence, this being—an angel?—was probing him.

               "It will take but moments until your records are registered," said the being.

               The man felt like laughing hilariously, sensing mirth and joy, not to mention love, and ... peace, and ... truth?

               A shadow crossed his thoughts. There was no longer any question now about what, or rather Who, Truth was. But, according to his faint recollections, he’d been told that some prior commitment to Truth was required to arrive here. Yet, somehow, here he was, in the realm of light, and not—the other place. Perhaps such a commitment hadn't been necessary after all.

Ah, what did it matter? He was here; all he need do was enjoy. Was this euphoria not what he'd sought all his life? This was what he'd truly desired, and not the counterfeit. All those thrills he'd pursued were now exposed as shallow imitations of these inexpressible environs. What a fool he'd been to waste time in empty pursuits. He could have begun enjoying the beginnings of these true pleasures while still alive. With a mild shock, he realized his concept of life was in the past tense.

               "Mr. Mann, your records are complete. Proceed to your next station," said the being of light.

               "You, you mean there's more?" The possibilities overwhelmed him. An eternity of more joy? Staggering. "Wow! I never thought it would be—that I was—that you—."

               "Oh, I'm not Him."

               "You're not! But I sense..."

               "I’m just a minor radiation of Him. It's a common mistake those of you without the Factor make. Your questions will be answered at your next station—if you so wish." There was finality in his tone that ended the conversation.

               Everett was instantly in free fall through a thick, tangible darkness; and he heard malicious, whispering voices. There was also a sharp, pungent odor, like a gun’s discharge.

The specter of doubt about commitment to Truth that previously occurred suddenly loomed now as significant. But, he decided to be optimistic. That was how he’d lived his life, and now saw no reason to change. Things would work out okay.

The fleeting memory of the last station remained, comforting him. The next station would be just as glorious, if not more so. He clung to that hope, else the sense of loss would be so keen… To have tasted such marvels and then be denied would be the essence of cruelty.

               But, when would this tumbling through darkness end? He was anxious for the next station. He’d been good enough. It would all work out. Though separated from his body, he was still aware of sensations and longings—especially longing for the light and the One Who was that light. All that mattered in all the universe now was that Person of light, love, peace, joy and truth.

               As he fell, Everett’s attention was drawn to two suspended platforms separated by a chasm with no bridge between. The first place was void of beings. There had been people there, once upon a time, or so it seemed, for it had the feel of a place once inhabited. Where had they gone? He saw no exits, so how the inhabitants had departed was as great a mystery as where they went.

               The second platform puzzled him even more as he streaked past, for it was crowded, even over-crowded—and full of hostility. As he watched, more beings (were such twitching, convulsing beings really people?) were dumped into its over-brimming confines. But that wasn’t the most amazing thing. This place lacked both light and pleasure. He’d always assumed that there would be no lack of pleasures in the good place, and his meeting at the first station with the being of light seemed to have confirmed that.

               Then he approached another, smaller platform that seemed to be the source of the cordite he smelled. This place was sealed; none could escape, none could be added. The people inside were tormented with invisible flames; there was no relief. Against his will he passed near. People were hitting and pushing each other as if trying to displace one another out of what was assumed to be a more tolerable spot. The shoving and hostility was continuous, as was verbal assault, although, because the place was sealed, he didn’t actually hear their anguished speech. Then he saw the name of the place. It bore the names of two cities that were destroyed at the same time.

               Suddenly Everett Mann landed with a thud.

               "Where am I?"

               Another being of light answered, "Your second station."

               "But, this is so different. This is nothing like what I expected. It's worse, far, far worse. Why?"

               "You don’t know?"

               "Know what?"

               The being examined a scroll. "It says here, that you resisted the Factor no less than seventeen times. Twice you were nearly persuaded, but each time, at the last minute, you put it off. In fact, the last opportunity you had to receive the Factor, you taunted the one making the offer."

               "Yeah, so?"

               "Unless you have the Factor, you’re disqualified."

               "Disqualified! From what? What is all this about the Factor, anyway?"

               "It will do you no good now, it’s too late. It can never be applied after disembarkation.”

               "Well, how serious is that? After all, I’m here, aren’t I?"

               "Umm, you’re here, aren’t you?"

               "So, when do I re-enter the glory? I really don't care much for this station."

               "No, I don't suppose you do."

               "No offense."

               "None taken. I’m assigned here for ten thousand orientations, and then, after that, a rest. I’ll receive a new assignment, never to serve here again. So, you see, no personal meanings are attached to what I do here."

               "What’s your name, I'll see you get a good recommendation."

               "That will hardly be necessary. Besides, my name is beyond your comprehension. Hadn't you better concern yourself with your own name?"

               “My name! Why?"

               “Mr. Everett Mann—,” the angel started reading from a very long scroll, detailing specific dates and times when Everett had violated the ten universal laws. The angel stopped reading and looked up. “And this list only enumerates the times you actually performed the deeds mentioned.” He then pointed to several scrolls in a large basket. “Those rolls record the times you tried to follow through or desired to… Shall I go on? Shall I show you your new name?”

“New name? Why do I need a new name?”

“In the eternal realms everyone is known by what they are instead of names that rarely pertained to their true character. There is no hiding what is in your heart.” The angel held open the top of the scroll revealing Everett’s eternal name. It was a descriptive term, and not very flattering!

Panic convulsed Everett. Every

Every rejection of the Factor burned like a coal in his memory. "I… I remember passing some awful places along the way. Oh, my Go—!" The words were choked off.

               "You’re not allowed to abuse that title any more."

               "But… but isn’t He love personified? How can He allow such… such awful things to happen to people just because they didn’t believe in Him?”

               "Ah, now you question such things, too little, too late. Instead of wishing you could go back and have one more chance at receiving the Factor, better you should prepare yourself for what lies ahead."

               "But, the good place is full of light, pleasure and life."

               "It is. But you are banned."

               "What will happen to me?”

               The being said, "A full transcript of your earthly deeds, words and thoughts will be given to you to carry forever. You’ll also receive a highly sensitive body, much like the one you inhabited in the third dimension; you will be permanently installed in it.”

               "Now wait a minute, this isn't what I want. I want the light and glory, not this."

               "Too late. Only those with the Factor ascend to the glories. Unless you already have the Factor when your spirit and body are disconnected, you cannot remain in the light."

               “I didn't know. This isn't fair!  Had I known the consequences, I'm certain I'd have accepted the Factor. It's not fair to make such a permanent condition depend on responding to some seemingly unimportant incident that happened long before I was born."

               "Does it seem so unimportant now?"            

               "No! Of course not! It’s the most important thing in all existence, but, that's my point. It's not fair to have so much riding on something that seems so trivial. How are people supposed to know?"

               "Twice you knew, but resisted."

               “I have rights. If I had known how important it was, I mean really knew…”

               "There is no possible defense.  His Spirit tried to convince you, but you thought you’d miss your ‘fun’ too much, and chose unbelief. No, there will be no defiant utterance of any supposed defense. It would die under His dreadful gaze before it passed your lips. No lies exist in that light. He that Adjudicates is Faithful, Just and True."

               "But, if He’s all love, how can He allow suffering, especially in the afterlife?"

               "This is only for those who have rejected His love." 

               "What is…  the Factor?"

               "The price of blood He paid is the missing factor in your dossier."

               "And you’re sure that I rejected—."

               "Quite sure."

               "If I'm not going to the good place, how was it that I perceived such a pure sense of freedom and joy at the first station?”

               "Oh! That was neither here nor there. That was simply arrival from the third dimension."

               "But, the euphoria, the light?"

               "Release from your three-dimensional body into the universal love-light of His radiance, that’s all."

               "How so?"

               "When your life began, you were sealed inside a body that was under the influence of corruption. Your eternal self was isolated, covered, as it were, from His glorious emanations, so all input was limited to your bodily senses, which could only perceive shadows of the true glory. Nonetheless, created in His image, you thus had a longing for the glories. But you, as every man does, misunderstood freedom, thinking freedom was doing as you pleased. When you used your freedom to forsake the light of truth you ridiculed the Factor, thinking its claims and promises too confining. Instead, you sought the easy ways of darkness. The light, which is what you really wanted, became even more alien as you freely chose darkness.

“Upon disconnection from your body you were released into the glories and truth that inundate creation. You mistakenly assumed the first station was His dwelling since it was so much more glorious than you knew in your earthly life."

               The man pondered, then asked, "Was I very unworthy?"

               "That depends on whose standard you use."

               "I'm afraid to ask the options."           

               "By your peers’ standards, you weren’t very unworthy. In fact, many of them respected you."

               "Does that count for anything?"

               "Nothing."

               "Then... there’s only one standard that counts?"

               "Correct."

               "But I could never match that standard."

               "Thus, your need of the Factor. The Factor makes up for all deficiencies, through no merit of your own. The life is in the blood. His blood would have applied His standard to your life."

               "And I... rejected. I am forfeit."

               The being of light remained silent.

               "Is there any hope of ever rejoining the glory?"

               "None. You perished without the Factor. It’s given unto men once to die, and after that, the Adjudication."

               Everett Mann sighed. So many people had lied to him about the after life.  There was no recycling, no universal acceptance, no eventual emergence from eons of purging.

“If you have no more questions, are you ready for your assignment?”

"Where is my next station?"

               "You passed it on your way here."

               "The crowded place, where more and more people were added, where they’re all hostile to each other?"

               "The same. It's only temporary, though."

               "Oh? For how long?"

               "Until the Adjudication."

               "And, will that be long?"

               "Not now. It will be very short. But, to you, it will seem ages."

               "And then?"

               "You saw the twin cities?"

               "With the invisible flames? But, they were sealed. Besides I wasn't nearly that wicked."

               "Their punishment was an example. They represent what awaits all who refuse the Factor."

               “Oh, why did I refuse the Factor? There must have been moments that I knew life was more than pleasure and serving self. If only I’d considered the consequences. Will I meet my friends? Will we at least share good memories?"

               "Your memories will only add to your suffering."

               Despair deeper than any he’d ever known settled over Everett. Not only was there no glory and joy, but agonizing, eternal doom beckoned from which there would be no respite. "Say no more."

               Instantly he tumbled again into the darkness. He was forever, irrevocably, lost.

               A doorway opened; he tumbled through. Scorching heat like a blast furnace hit him. Voices cursed, hands and feet buffeted, teeth bit, and he, feebly striking back, began his agony.   

                                                                THE (ultimate) END