I'm not sure how long I've been here. It could be days, weeks even, though I don't feel hungry, or tired, or even like I have to pee, and I don't even know where here is. I think I might be dead, but even that I'm unsure about.
I don't know how I got here, or even who I am. The first thing I can remember is standing here in complete darkness; everything before that is like trying to remember a dream. Strangely, I feel no fear about this.
Darkness isn't exactly the right word, because I can see my own arms and legs clearly enough; it's more like I am standing in an infinitely large room that is illuminated by an unseen source, but is painted completely with matte black paint. I can't see any walls, or ceiling. When I touch the floor it's not made of anything I recognize; not wood, or metal, or dirt, or glass, it's just smooth and cool to the touch.
I started walking shortly after finding myself here, hoping to find someone or something that can tell me where I am. I have found something now; it seems to almost glow against the blackness.
As I draw closer, I can see it's a wooden box, like a little treasure chest, and on its lid are the words “Follow Me, And Wander No More”. It's really fancy work; expensive looking. Since the box itself isn't moving in anyway that I can perceive, let alone follow, I open it.
There's a compass in the box, made of glass and brass; the sort of thing you might find on a sailing ship. There are no directions on the compass' face, just lines, but it calls to me all the same.
Is that what I am, a sea captain? No, I don't think so. I remember other things; electronics, energy weapons, space travel. What of those things are real though? I can't remember anything clearly.
I reach down, and gently lift the compass from its case, turning it over in my hands to examine it; it's cool, and lighter than I expected. Etched into the brass body of it are the same words that are on the lid of the box, “Follow Me, And Wander No More”. The needle swings as I turn the device around, but does north even exist here? What is it pointing towards?
I reach down to retrieve the box from the floor, but it's gone. I haven't moved my feet so much as an inch, but the box is no longer at them, or indeed anywhere around me. The compass is still in my hands though, so at least I didn't hallucinate it.
Lacking any better ideas, I head in the direction that the compass arrow points. For some reason it feels like the right thing to do; the right way to go. At least it makes me feel like I'm walking in one direction instead of in circle which I'm pretty sure I was doing before.
An indeterminate amount of time and distance passes before I see something else against the blackness in the distance. It is in the direction that the compass has been indicating. As I draw closer I am able to tell that what I'm seeing is a pair of doors with a human figure standing between them.
I think I've found the wall of this structure, but as I draw closer I see that this isn't so. The doors stand in open space, held up by nothing, the figure stands between them. He, I will call it a he due to its deep voice, for I cannot see his face, is wearing a gray robe that covered him from head to toe; a hood obscuring his identity and gender.
“You have come far,” says the figure in a voice that sounds like the hinges of a crypt door that has not been opened in decades, “but your journey is not yet at an end. You must make a choice. Behind one of these doors is salvation, the other damnation. Before you choose, you may ask me any questions you may have.”
“So I am dead?” I ask.
“In some senses, yes, in others you are eternal.”
“Who am I?”
“You are a soul on your final journey.”
“So which door should I choose?”
“Salvation.”
I am pretty sure this figure, spirit, whatever it is, is trying to wind me up.
“Which door has salvation behind it?” I ask.
“I know not, for I am only here to greet those who find their way to me through the dark. You must choose, and whichever fate you choose will be the appropriate one for you.”
“Do a lot of people come through here?”
“Everyone does, eventually. Some take longer than others. You seem to have found your way here quickly, how is that?”
I look down at the compass in my hand, “I thought you were here to answer my questions?”
“Of course, forgive my impertinence.”
I hold the compass out, “So not everyone gets one of these?”
I can see the figure's surprise even through his robe. “No,” it says, unable to hide the shock in his voice.
I look at the face of the compass. The arrow is pointing to the door to the right. I take a step in that direction, reaching for the doorknob.
“Before you go, know that your eternity rides on this choice. Are you sure that this is the right door for you?”
Looking down at the compass, which still points unwaveringly at the door on the right, I say, “Yes,” and I open the door, and step into the blazing light beyond.