The Cat

No parent should have to bury their child.

"An innocent soul now rests among angels", read the epitaph. Shrouded in a haze of grief and alcohol, his eyes stared at the tombstone as the early morning dew trickled down its pale surface. And yet, no tears rolled down his dry, bloodshot, dead eyes, for his pain was matched by a fiery, maddening, hell raising rage. As he sipped the last drop, the empty bottle tipped his fury; lashing out, he flung it into the lake, at the swans his daughter so loved.

Staggering back to his car, he slumped behind the wheel and drove up to the cliff. It was his first Sunday alone at the top in a long time; after his daughter’s birth to be exact. Gazing at the vista the height offered, he prayed his last prayer – his daughter, wherever she was, may she had this and other vistas to enjoy, the rising suns and pretty twilights. And then, he jumped.

Eyes closed, he waited for the crushing embrace of the earth which, to his surprise, never came. Aggravated even further, he shouted,” Can’t I even die of my own accord? Have I been robbed the one thing which I had left to be claimed as my own?”

A sonorous voice, shaking his very being, asked in turn, “But what is death?”

What followed, the word of the Lord hadn’t prepared him for.

God: a small thing

No sooner than had he heard the weird question, he saw a single point of pure white light in a cosmos of nothingness. “What are you? What is this place?”, stumbled from his lips when a few minutes later he found his voice again.

“Oh we’re somewhere here, somewhat there, kind of nowhere but really everywhere!” chuckled back the voice.

"Look, son, I'm in no mood for your clowning so you better start giving me some straight answers! Now I won't ask nicely again – where the hell am I, and who the hell are you?", he roared.

“But my question is so much more interesting! I bet you'd have answered your daughter if the innocent thing had asked you this! I don't get why you're being mean with me” moaned back the voice.

Dumbstruck, then grief-stricken, he mumbled," What do you know about my daughter? Who are you?"

“Let’s just say I’m the closest approximation you have of God, except that I’m not a higher dimensional celestial being. Quite contrary to that, and as your saying goes ‘devil is in the details’, I too exist in the details. Think quantum level details. And this is my turf”, came the calm reply.

“Is this heaven? Where’s my daughter? Surely you know something about her! Can you take me to her? I beg of you, please take me to her!”, sobbed the longing father.

“Only when you answer my question son – what is death?”, demanded the stubborn voice.

Death is your construct

“But you’re God! You are supposed to know everything then why ask me? Oh! I get it. This is one of the ridiculous tests which the preachers tell me you like to have. Fine, I’m game. Death is the end of life. When your chest no longer rises and falls, heart no longer pumps, heat leaves your body and guess what, it’s time to come join you, or so the preachers have everyone believe. Now take me to my daughter!”

Laughing gently at the arrogance, the voice replied, “What’s the rush son? At least allow me time to correct you. For starters, I know everything that can happen, but not what has happened, not exactly anyway. Secondly, how should I know about death? I did not invent it! You did! I created you and let you be. You chose a reality, constructed ‘death' which in turn gave rise to ‘time'! For me, you're just a consciousness drifting in and out of the box which you call the universe.”

None of what the voice said made sense to him. But then, can you blame him?

Define your world

Sensing his incredulity, the voice sighed in exasperation, "Only one in a million get it. Why did I even try this on him?” and finally said in a soothing voice, "Let me put it this way. You're in between realities right now. There is no death. The concepts of death and time, the cycles of past – present – future and expectation – experience – memory exist within the confines of a reality. You, son, have just come from an excruciating reality I gather, one where you lost your daughter. Are you with me so far?"

“I guess”, came the shaky response.

“Excellent, just stay with me. Now just as you landed here after your swan dive from the cliff, your daughter too came by after she lost her battle in the hospital.”

On hearing these words, his eyes lit up and he asked, “Why didn’t you just say so, instead of blabbering all this while! But wait, you said she was here? Where is she now?”

“Look past me. What do you see?”

"A faint grey wall. She's behind that wall, isn't she? How do I get to the other side? Where can I find her once I'm there?"

"Yes, she's behind that wall. That's no ordinary wall. That my son is the box you call the universe, the wall being the decoherence boundary. Like I said before I know everything that can happen but not everything as it is happening. Ergo, I can tell you all the places and states she might be in, which according to my calculations are north of a zillion possibilities. To get to the other side, you've to skim the wall and find an opening. But once you do and take it, you'll lose all memory of me, this place, and your reality, your universe will be decided for you at random. And, there's no saying in what state you might find your daughter. You might enjoy a long happy and loving life with her, but it is equally likely, more or less, that you'd die with her the next day in a kitchen fire which, mind you, is still better than losing her in a road accident.”

The voice sure had given him a lot to process. After profound deliberation on his options he asked, “If and when my daughter dies in there, she’ll pass through here again, right? She’ll be here?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll wait for her here in this, nothingness.”

This time, it was the voice who replied incredulously, "What? You'd have just me for companionship and there's no saying when she might be back next! Moreover, I hope you realize the moment you finalize your decision of not entering the box, in all realities, all possibilities, your daughter exists without her father! You still sure you want to make that call?”

“I’m scared of random chance. It was random chance that got her cancer and took her away from me in the first place. No. I’ll wait, and when she’s here, we’ll go hand in hand, either in this nothingness or in the box. It’s the only way I can define my own world.”