Recycled

I don't remember how I got there, my most recent memories have gone well past the 'fuzzy' level, which added to my confused state. I looked about the scene, which appeared almost unreal as a lovely section of beach with a gentle lapping of water against the sand, sunlight seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. I tried to recall what I had been doing and where I was before this, but to no avail. What was even stranger was the fact that I felt... nothing. My bare feet felt no heat from the sand, my bare skin felt no tingling from the ultraviolet light converting skin cells, no wind in my short hair, no pain, no pleasure... just confusion.

Then I noticed something else lacking in the scene: Where were the sounds normally associated with such an idyll? I could see the waves of water approaching shore, however out-of-focus my view of it was, but neither whoosh nor sploosh could I hear. Then I noticed a lack of birds, there are always birds at such locations, floating on the updrafts or diving to snag unseen fish, but here they don't seem to exist. I turned slowly, trying to focus on my surroundings. There was a treeline, the flora seeming to be appropriate for this place, but past that set of details I could make out nothing. And still, I could barely tell I existed physically in this place.

A few moments, or an eternity later, I couldn't tell, I see a figure approaching me. It seemed almost a dream sequence in slow motion and out of focus. It looked to me to be a man, tall, wearing a dark suit, his arms folded behind his back as he strolled along the sand at his leisure. He was vaguely familiar to me, but then I think I may have been at that age when everyone looked familiar to me. The notion crossed my mind that this may be a hallucination brought on by, what... exactly... In the meantime, the man is still coming closer at some indeterminable rate of speed and I was frozen in place, amnesiac and terrified.

He came close, and I began to form a memory. I had seen photos of this man in my youth, many times, mostly with a beard and a few without. He was a famous man, a man of some importance, who met a terrible fate. I still couldn't put a name to him, but I surmised his presence had the direst implication for me. If he is dead, then that means... I had a vague sense of my stomach turning, and my brain exploding. The man stood before me, quiet consternation of his craggy face. Eventually, his demeanor softened, but his tone was stern as he spoke.

"It seems in life you considered this place as your notion of paradise. I had preferred the mountain air of the hills in Kentucky," he said. A vague sense of this man's history floated to conscious mind, and I was confounded by the fact that I was face to face with...

"Ah, it seems you have confused me with a certain famous American president. As you would naturally associate this form I have taken with the popular notion of that particular historical figure, I am unfortunately not who you think I am. More's the pity, in that in this place you might have enjoyed the company of someone you seem to have admired in life." The sound of the man's voice didn't come across right. It was flat, with no vocal quality. He noticed my further lack of understanding, in so much as he could have, given the conditions with which we were currently dealing. I myself was concentrating on focusing on his visage, but I had the odd sense that I was not really using my eyes. Every detail around the tall, lanky man in the dark suit and stovepipe hat swam slowly about us, as if we were in a dream state, and the more I tried to make sense of it the more the scenery swam.

"But, where is this and how are we here?" I stammered, noticing my voice didn't resonate like it should have. "I can't even remember what I was doing... before... this? And... if you're not him, who are you?"

"How odd that not only did you conjure me up in this form, but you also don't recognize me," he said. "I suppose I should introduce myself. Or rather, yourself. I am you. Well, to put a more precise point to it, I am that part of you to which you cannot lie. I am, for all practical purposes, your heart of hearts. In case you have not as yet noticed, you are in a state of death."

I was struck with a bolt from the blue, in a metaphysical sense, at that declaration. Did I just tell myself that I was dead? The scene about us swirled in chaos, and I had the vague sense of my stomach churning again, that is as if I had a stomach to churn. The Lincoln-like part-of-me figure seemed to make a gesture that made the beach come back into a semblance of order. He stepped closer, at least that was how my consciousness interpreted it, and leaned in a bit. "Take notice, though. It is not final. You still have that," he said, at which he waved his hand. I looked down and could see that where my belly should have been was an amorphous shape resembling my body, with a cord not unlike an umbilical emanating from where my navel would have resided. It ran around my side and disappeared into the distance, the other end unseen.

"So, I could still be alive?" I asked. He shrugged a bit. "Yes and no. You, me, we have an important decision to make. I must ask you a simple question: What do you have in life that is worth living for? It is not so simple question to answer, though." He was right, I had to admit. I tried to remember what I had been and what I had done to have an answer for myself. The thought occurred to me, was this the part where my whole life would flash before my eyes? I was still fuzzy about the immediate past, having not even processed what happened just prior to my arrival here, and my president-like me waited patiently for me to reply. Eventually, I did so by saying, "Surely, I did. I am sure I had family and friends and a lifestyle... Why can't I remember who they were?"

He nodded a bit, I think. "In this space, only the kernel of truth is of value. All that you experienced in the physical world matters not, nor did all the hopes and fears, the love and hate, only that which you could have learned. What did you learn?" I had no answer for myself. What DID I learn? Had I left the physical plane with no lasting accomplishment? For what seemed the longest time, I tried to remember something, anything that made my existence as a physical being worthwhile. The world swirled in muted tones as I ruminated, myself stood before me I thought in stern judgment, the only thing holding me in situ. Eventually, I had to admit to myself that I was found lacking.

"Don't judge me, well your self too harshly. You, I, we are no different than most beings. We are born into chaos, and we spent our life trying to make sense of it. In the meantime, we enjoyed the pleasures and endured the pains of that existence, all the while I was deep down inside of you, constantly asking you that question. It seems a matter of finding a center, a certainty, a universal truth that you and I could hold onto, and base our every decision, every action on. You did actually have a decent existence, with the victories and the regrets joining you on your journey here."

I grokked what myself was trying to explain, and I wanted to say yes at last to my question. Myself looked at me with those sad, presidential eyes that saw too much of what he would have seen he actually been who he appeared to be. "Now, did you have anything in life worth dying for?" I would have protested the asinine nature of the question, had I been able to hide anything from myself. Myself nodded knowingly, he knew what I was thinking, well yeah he would know everything about me, even the parts I buried to keep my precarious sense of sanity. I had to question the very nature of the question, thinking well one can die for a cause, but wouldn't actually know if it was worthy of his death until he had died. Was Love worth dying for? But, what about those we leave behind? They grieve, sometimes suffer greatly at the loss of the loved one. Some never recover from the heartbreak, some seem to feel a sense of emancipation at seeing the end of pain. Would my death have brought peace or closure to someone? These were the nature of the unanswered questions the depths of which I dared not plumb while living. Myself, of course, was well aware of this.

"It is apparent that you have forgotten so much in your haste to exist, that you also may have missed the opportunity to learn what you were placed there to learn." He reached out and placed a shapeless hand on my shapeless shoulder. "Now, you and I have a most important question to answer: Do you go back or do you move on? Mind you, if we move on, we may not remember what had gone before and we will leave behind those who loved you to deal with life without your presence."

For an interminable amount of time, I stood there not knowing or maybe not admitting the answer to myself. Eventually, the beach that had flirted on the edge of my periphery faded to a dull, flat darkness, the last thing I sensed was myself, hand still on my shoulder, craggy face seeming ancient and new at once nodding as if to acknowledge that I, we had made the choice. The darkness enveloped us and the universe became a warmth that surrounded me, as I felt my presence back in the body. I could hear muffled sounds, voices, even music at times. Finally, I felt my awakening at last. There was the bright light that hurt my unused eyes, and voices surrounding me as I came out of my reverie at last. I felt the harsh coolness of the room, and it caused me to speak for the first time since my time at the beach. My voice was shrill, as I expected. This time, I told myself, we are going to go learn.