Only one door besides the one on the
end interrupted the pure white walls.
Drawing abreast of it, a small plate identified the room it opened
into: Embalming.
Alex hesitated. Curiosity won out, and she opened the door
and peered in. Cabinets lined the walls,
but what caught her eye was the guttered metal table in the middle of the room.
It was completely utilitarian,
devoid of softness or warmth. It stood
there, indifferent to the parade of bodies that must have lain on its surface
and the many more that would come.
It seemed to say, I know nothing of man’s hopes and fears of eternity. Hell may only be a lie, a tool of your
religions to make you do as they wish.
Or it may be divine retribution.
Heaven may be a dream of those terrified of dissolution. Or it may be a
real reward. All I guarantee is that one
day you’ll lie right here naked and cold, and the once living warmth of your
fluids will be drained from your body.
That day might be soon. It might
be today. Climb on up, Alex. Lie down and have a peek into your future.
