Purpose

OK, here's my independent story (nothing to do with dates). Feel free to criticize, praise, etc. Don't be too hard, I'm still just an amateur writer ;)

It took Professor Cervelle a calculated 6.2 seconds to collect the data, analyze the results, and draw conclusions. A very short time for someone to discover the present situation, however not surprising, given the good professor was always good at using the scientific method.

Peering through his spectacles, Cervelle waited for what he anticipated seconds before.

"St. Peter, I presume?"

Silence consumed the frail little man's voice. Standing a short five feet tall, he was, ironically, the only distinct figure that illustrated the white room. Or was it just open space? Naturally, this was a mystery, one that tickled the professor's curiosity from the start.

The tired-looking man waited for what might have been an eternity for a response (the nature of his environment suggesting just that). Reaching towards his glasses with a sigh, he felt his back pocket with his other hand for a handkerchief and wiped his spectacles clean.

No sooner than replacing his spectacles upon his crooked nose did he finally get his predicted response.

"Yes."

It was a whispering voice, one that did not seem to come from anywhere. Rather, it crept softly into the depths of Cervelle's mind. This at first puzzled the professor, as it defied the very laws of physics to which he was so devoted. Upon reevaluating his current situation, however, that emotion was erased and replaced with excitement.

Exciting, he thought, to finally discover all the secrets of the universe.

Cervelle beamed. It was every scientist's dream. He would finally learn just what exactly made time itself tick. The beginnings of the universe. The secrets of the cosmos. And beyond.

His brain flexed feverishly to think of the possibilities. What mysteries could be unraveled before his very eyes? But then, as if to ruin his boyhood fantasy, he reached a dreadful conclusion. There was a reason he was here.

The professor's excited smile faded to a more serious complexion. Composing himself, he asked the burning question.

"I never made it off that train...did I?"

Again, the waiting for a response felt endless. Perhaps, Cervelle thought, the theory of time should be changed.

Before Cervelle could delve any further into his intricate thinking, the voice answered.

"Yes."

Calmly, Cervelle went one step further.

"I am to be judged?"

"Yes."

His calculations were correct, his hypothesis, proven; he never did make it to Madrid. And, to further the equation, he was wrong to ever doubt the afterlife. A morsel of fear crept into the man's heart; he was a man of science who lived in a world of faith. A sin, no doubt.

Muddled in his sea of thoughts, the professor grew into a further state of fear. My fate is unknown, he thought. The unknown, the professor thought, was every man's fear.

Lost in his worries, Cervelle was startled when the voice spoke again.

"I am St. Peter, Mr. Cervelle, but you already know that. Do you know where you are?"

The professor looked down to what would appear to be the ground. Then he looked up, side to side, and all around, seeing no trace of anything as far as the eye can see. He knew where he was, but the dominance of science controlled his response. Scientifically, this place made no sense.

"No."

"Liar," said the voice. "You know exactly where you are."

Cervelle cringed. The voice in his head seemed a bit louder and angrier this time, nothing like the timid responses he was getting used to. Unable to explain his surroundings in factual terms, the professor turned to the alternative. Like any good scientist, he had to come to terms with the truth.

"The gates of heaven?"

"Good."

The current predicament was finally unraveled, or at least, it was convincing. Like any theory, it had to be tested. But for the time being, Cervelle accepted the idea.

To further his investigation, Cervelle asked another burning question.

"What is my judgment?"

The voice calmly let itself back into the professor's mind.

"Well, Mr. Cervelle, what do you think?"

The professor approached the question carefully.

"I do not have enough information to make any kind of educated assumption. I suppose, ultimately, my being is best judged by higher powers."

The term "higher powers" was carefully chosen, used to accept the afterlife but not necessarily the Christian God.

"Very well professor. I will be blunt."

Cervelle listened (or thought) closely.

"Within your lifetime, it was found that you were indeed generally a good man. You treated others well and tried hard to be a well-natured person. You did this for logical reasons, knowing full well that to treat others with kindness was the simplest route to happiness."

The voice continued, at which point in time a spark of hope enlightened the professor's thoughts.

"However, you're soul is simply not yet ready for what lies beyond. You're total disregard for God and the powers that be prevents advancement. To reach heaven, you must first come to terms with your creator."

The professor dreaded this. The luck of the draw, he thought. A factual mind incapable of faith. Disappointed, the professor asked the inevitable.

"So what is to become of me?"

The voice answered, softer this time.

"Well professor, it's inappropriate to send you to Hell, don't you agree?"

My thoughts exactly, Cervelle thought. He let out a sigh of relief, indicating that perhaps the powers that controlled his fate were indeed sensible. After all, he did accomplish great things for humanity. Perhaps not intentionally, but nonetheless his achievements reflected general prosperity. Yes, he thought; I am a good man.

"Well professor, it appears you are what we like to call 'in lingo.'"

The professor cringed; this could be good or bad. He braced himself.

"You have two choices, professor, or rather, two paths. What you choose will determine the fate of your soul for eternity. Are you ready?"

Cervelle took off his spectacles, rubbed his eyes, and replaced them with a sigh. That was a little over the top.

"Always," was his response.

"The first path is Purgatory, Mr. Cervelle. It is the path of immortality and infinite knowledge. If you choose to follow this path, your soul will wander the free universe as much as it pleases, learning along the way all of God's secrets. Simply put, your curiosity will finally be fulfilled."

This is what Cervelle was waiting for! Infinite knowledge. The key to time itself. The professor's mind danced with glee.

"The other path, Mr. Cervelle, is the path of Life. Your soul will re-enter the mortal world, where you will start anew within a new life. Your mind, and everything that you have ever known, will be erased. Your soul will, simply put, be the only thing that remains."

Frightening, Cervelle thought. Everything he has ever worked for--gone, in a blink of an eye. It hardly seemed like a worthy alternative.

Cervelle thought for a moment. He had two choices, one that was clearly more attractive than the other. Analyzing the situation, Cervelle concluded Purgatory was too good to be true, like any amazing thing. There had to be a catch.

"What is it like in Purgatory, if you don't mind me asking?"

A worthy question. Cervelle braced himself for a response.

"Complete and udder loneliness," answered the voice. "As the observer, you will have no contact with the outside world. You're soul, simply put, will be incapable of interaction with other souls."

The ultimate catch. The ultimate price. Cervelle knew it too well.

In life, he was single till the very end, never faltering from his studies to even steal a glance from another's eyes. The price of knowledge. A price of great pain.

It was tempting. His whole life, spent for this moment. A chance to finally realize the absolute truth, the truth of everything. But with a price. Just like life, this moment had a price.

His brain was undoubtingly stronger than his heart. He looked at his situation from all logical aspects, but reached nothing. Instead of receiving a headache, he felt heartache. In life, he ignored all of humanity to perfect his brain. He ignored love. It was lonely. But such was the price for genius.

What would Einstein do? Cervelle remembered the fate of Einstein. A failing marriage. A man would stole himself away behind locked doors, only to be in udder silence so that he may think. To feed curiosity. To starve love.

To live in eternal pain for the god-awful truth. Was it even worth it?

Nah.

It certainly was ages before Cervelle got his head around this one. The good professor took off his spectacles, placed them neatly at his feet, and smiled. He wouldn't need them anymore.

"I choose life my good man."

The professor felt a glow of warmth ensue his heart. St. Peter answered, with a smile that the professor felt.

"A wise decision. The wisest decision you've made of all existence."

The professor smiled. He could foresee a beautiful life ahead of him.

"Any questions before you take your leave?"

The professor laughed. He was done with questions. Way past it.

But then, a funny thought occurred to him. He couldn't resist, given his curiosity wasn't dead just yet.

"Isn't reincarnation a Buddhist belief?"

St. Peter, for the first time in ages, laughed.

"Don't you know professor, that God works in mysterious ways?"

Cervelle smiled.

"God didn't make his children just because. He did it to learn from them, Mr. Cervelle. The Big Guy up there can't come up with everything, am I right?"

Cervelle shook his head. What a crazy world we live in.