I opened my eyes. The alley was gone. So was the man with the gun. I remember the gun firing. There’s no way he missed. I’m definitely dead. Is this the afterlife?

  I stood in a long hallway. On both sides of me, endless rows of doorways stretched on. All the doors were shut and I couldn’t see any handles. The doors looked like they were made from a single piece of silvery metal. But the floor was a milky white marble, while the walls were painted a soft lavender.

  “Where am I, purgatory?” My voice echoed in the hall. I turned and saw the endless hallway extend behind me too. “Do I go forwards or backwards? There’s a fifty percent chance it’s the wrong direction.” So I went forward.

  My shoes squeaked against the marble, but as I walked, nothing in the scenery changed. I kept walking and walking. Then I walked some more.

  Thousands of doorways, and not a single one has a handle? Who in their right mind makes a building like this?

  I started running down the hall. Something needs to change. I can’t be stuck wandering down an endless hallway for the rest of my life. No doors, no people, Nothing!

  “Is anyone around? Can someone help me?” I shouted as I kept running.

  This isn’t purgatory; this is hell! This is what I get for stealing. But it was to survive. I didn’t try to take anything from anyone who needed it. It was only cell phones. I even tried to help others. Marc needed my help.

  I stopped running and tried to kick one of the doors. The sound of my foot hitting the door reverberated throughout the hall. The door didn’t show any sign that I had kicked it. My foot, on the other hand, throbbed.

  Ignoring the pain in my foot, I resorted to hitting the door with my fist. “Please, open up. I need help.”

  “Knock it off!” a voice shouted so loudly that my ears felt like they were going to explode. I dropped to my knees and covered my ears. “Who is making all that racket? Some of us are trying to enjoy a little peace and quiet.” The voice was at a more reasonable volume, and it was coming from behind me.

  I turned and saw the door glow for a moment before it slowly opened. A blinding light exploded from behind the door, and I shielded my eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” It sounded like an old man. The slightly scratchy voice was a welcomed change. I opened my eyes, and the bright light was less blinding. In front of me was an open room. “Come in.”

  I looked down each direction of the hall and saw nobody, and the hallways were still the same as ever. Shrugging, I stood up and walked in.

  My jaw hit the floor. There were no windows, yet the room was lit with a soft ambient glow that revealed no shadows. The walls, floor, and ceiling seamlessly transitioned from one to the other. It didn’t look like I was in a room, but in an infinite expanse of pure white.

  Then I looked up at the ceiling and saw a spectacular chandelier that you’d expect to see in the wealthiest of mansions. The entire thing was made of beautiful, clear crystals. It felt like I could just stare at it for hours. The chandelier seems to defy gravity, suspended effortlessly in the air, casting gentle reflections and refracting light in mesmerizing patterns.

  “Excuse me.” The elderly voice called out again.

  In a corner of the room, past the square ivory table underneath the chandelier, was a very well dressed, old man. He was seated in a high-back chair that was also white, like everything else in the room. He wore a white tuxedo, and in his hands were a little white teacup and plate. Next to him was a marble pedestal with a tea set with bowls of sugar and a plate of small cookies.

  The man looked like he didn’t belong in the suit. His skin held more wrinkles than I thought skin could have. His eyelids looked like they struggled to hold the wrinkles on his forehead from locking his eyes shut. Also, his skin looked like no amount of moisturizer could rehydrate. He was probably halfway to being mummified.

  “Who—who are you?” It took most of my courage to keep from flinching at his appearance.

  The man put the cup on the plate and placed them on the pedestal with the rest of the tea set. “Someone who believes that the guest should introduce themselves first.” When he stood up, he brushed the front of his tuxedo, despite it still being immaculate. He offered his hand to me. “Your name, miss.”

  I swallowed. “Rina Lone.” He doesn’t know who I am, so he’s not going to kill me too, right?

  “Well, Miss Lone, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m known as Mr. Black.” I giggled at his name. By the way the man’s posture stiffened, he wasn’t so amused at the irony. “It seems you are full of rather rude tendencies.”

  “Sorry, but Mr. Black? Is that your real name?” I barely held back the giggle, but not the smirk. “There’s so much white. If you said your name was Mr. White, it would be much easier to believe.”

  An uncomfortably long silence followed my statement. I immediately regretted saying it. While it may have looked like it was true, that didn’t mean I had to say it. Mr. Black’s face never changed. He just stared at me in a way that felt like he was peering through me and into my soul.

  I took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it. But it’s been a really bad day for me. I was being chased by a man. He shot me…a lot. I think I died. No, I know I died. And since then, I’ve been wandering that endless hallway, for I don’t know how long, and I just don’t know what to do. Shouldn’t I, I don’t know, move on to the afterlife?”

  He sighed. “I see now. Your lack of manners is not entirely your fault.”

  What?

  “You said you had died, so I looked at the last few years of your life. While it is tragic and not entirely your fault, you really shouldn’t have resorted to thievery.”

  “I didn’t know what to do.” I held out my hands. “I was kicked out of the foster care system because I had barely graduated high school, I couldn’t get a job, I couldn’t find a place to live, and I couldn’t go to college. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t have any other options. The only one who kept me going was Marc.”

  Mr. Black lifted a finger. “You always have other options. It just might take you longer to see them.” He cleared his throat. “However, your willingness to help the boy, Marc, was admirable. Though, I must ask why?”

  I took in a sharp breath. “Oh no. Who’s going to make sure he gets his medicine now?”

  The old man leaned on the table. “Of all the things you should worry about, that shouldn’t be one of them. Why are you worried about him? You died, your life in that world is over.”

  “He doesn’t deserve the life he got.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Neither did I, but I can at least help make sure he has a chance. That’s more than I ever got.”

  “And what makes him so special? Hmm?” Mr. Black’s probing tone started to grate on me.

  I started pacing. “He was my friend—my only friend. After twenty years, he was the only one who ever remembered me. Every single one of my foster parents would forget me on a daily basis. It’s a miracle I survived childhood. What I don’t understand is why? Why could he remember me?”

  Mr. Black smirked as he stirred his tea with a spoon. “Is that truly all you don’t understand? What about the man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, know who you are, and hunt you down to kill you? To me that would be more puzzling. It sounds to me like you died with regrets.”

  With a smirk, the man continued talking. “That’s nothing new. But, if you were simply a normal person who died, you would have been moved to where you were supposed to go already. However, that’s not the case for you. No, I’m afraid this is much worse for you. And the boy too.”

  “What are you talking about?” My voice cracked. “How does it get worse?”

  The old man turned around, grabbed the plate of cookies, and placed them on the table between us. “Have a seat and a cookie if it will help you calm down and relax.” He waved behind me, and a wooden chair made of pure white wood was behind me.

  When did that get there? “I’d rather not. You saying things like that are doing the opposite of calming me down.”

  “Fine.” He straightened up and put his hand behind his back. “The hard way it is. You shouldn’t exist.”

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t exist,” Mr. Black repeated.

  I shook my head. “No, I exist. I’m here, aren’t I? This is real. This isn’t some prank to scare me straight, right?” That guy said something like that before he killed me. “Why? This doesn’t make anysense.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You don’t have a natural soul. Your soul is an artificial one. Someone else created it.” Mr. Black’s emotionless tone and face made it harder to believe.

  “But how?” My voice quivered. “Wasn’t I born to my parents?”

  The man tilted his head. “And what parents would those be? You said it yourself—you were an orphan. Was there any paperwork stating how you became an orphan?”

  “They only told me they found me on the steps one morning. The mailman found me first thing in the morning.” That doesn’t mean I don’t have parents, right? My head started to spin. “I’m real.”

  “You are real.” His voice seemed softer. “But that doesn’t mean that you’re not artificial. I will admit, whoever created you knew what they were doing. There is very little to distinguish you from a natural soul. But it seems there are several small pieces missing. Ones that almost look too intentional to have been forgotten.”

  “But how?” I placed my hands on the table. “How can anyone create a soul? You said I shouldn’t exist. Why? What does that have to do with any of this?”

  “It has everything to do with this. Because creating souls is a crime. Nobody should know how to create an artificial soul. I only know how to recognize one.” Mr. Black’s words sent a shiver down my spine.

  Why won’t this guy show some emotion? How can he tell me my existence is basically a crime with such a flat face?

  “And as it would seem, someone else knows about it and is actively attempting to rectify the situation. I should turn you over to be destroyed.”

  I fell into the chair. My limp body was nothing like the heart racing in my chest. Destroy? I shouldn’t exist…

  “But I won’t.” Mr. Black nudged the cookies closer to me, then turned and grabbed the tea set.

  He poured steaming hot water into a new cup with a matching plate. He pulled a small envelope from his pocket, and I saw the words “Earl Grey” on the package before he ripped it apart and revealed a small tea bag. He placed it in the cup and placed it in front of me.

  “Drink this. It’s something from your world, and it will help you calm down.” There was a gentleness in the old man’s voice that wasn’t there before.

  But I continued to stare straight ahead. I shouldn’t exist? I’m an artificial being? My mind continued to spiral down a dark pit, one that made breathing harder. Then the words he said finally reached me.

  “You won’t destroy me?” I asked between sharp breaths.

  He shook his head. There was almost a look of pity in his eyes. “No. There are many who believe that the sins of the father must be paid by the son, or in your case, the sins of the creator and the created. Some figures of speech don’t age well.”

  Was that a joke?

  “I’m afraid I have more bad news.”

  My heart rate, which was just getting under control, spiked. “What now?”

  Mr. Black waved his hand, and the chair slid and stopped next to me. Then he sat next to me. “I’ll tell you after you’ve had some tea and a cookie. You like snickerdoodles, correct?”

  I looked at the cookies closely for the first time. They were snickerdoodles. How did he know? Oh right, he literally read my soul. Seeing my favorite cookie probably isn’t that big of a stretch. I was teased a lot because such a simple cookie was always my favorite. It’s been so long since I could afford a good cookie. My mouth watered at the innocent confectionary. My hand didn’t wait for permission to snatch one and stuff it into my mouth.

  The entire cookie barely fit in my mouth, but I shivered and let out a slight moan. If there was ever the best cookie in existence, that would have been it. It had the perfect balance of cinnamon and sugar while still being so light and fluffy. I almost forgot about everything he said in that one blissful moment as the cookie melted in my mouth. Almost.

  I eyed him, and he nodded to the cup of tea. My hands shook a little as I tried to swallow the sugary delight, but I found my mouth was really dry. When my lips touched the tea, I flinched and almost spilled it. “Too hot!”

  He nodded his head again. “Try it now.”

  Look, mister, I almost burned my mouth on it. Do you really think it’s cooled down enough already? He just kept staring at me, waiting. I rolled my eyes. Fine, just to show you.

  I brought the cup to my lips again. There wasn’t the scalding on my lips as I expected. Instead, it was pleasantly warm. I took a drink. It was quite bitter, but still almost palatable. And it did its job, washing down the cookie. Although I could almost hear another cookie calling my name.

  “Happy?” I asked as I set the cup down.

  “Was it not to your liking?” He tilted his head. “Does it need honey or sugar?”

  I eyed the dark liquid. “Maybe some sugar will help.” I shook my head. “But that’s not important. You said you’d tell me the bad news after I tried one of those—”amazing“—cookies and drank your tea.” I pointed my finger at him. “Now, hold up your end.”

  Mr. Black frowned. “Fine. Since I didn’t finish the job of having you destroyed and you were ordered to be killed by a cosmic assassin, they will return to finish what they started once they find out you still exist. They never give up.”

  “You’re right, that is bad news.” My handle on my sanity was slowly starting to slip. Here I am drinking tea with an old man after he told me I’m an artificial soul and shouldn’t exist after I walked down an endless hallway after I got shot in the head. So, why not? “What else can go wrong?”

  Without skipping a beat Mr. Black said, “When the cosmic assassin kills you again, your soul will suffer irreparable damage and be destroyed utterly. And once he has killed you, he will erase all trace of your existence as is his protocol.”

  “What’s there to erase? Nobody ever remembers me and there are no records of me on Earth.” I stared into the cup of tea without looking at it. “Every time I tried to get the paperwork done, it would always get lost. It’s already like I didn’t exist.” Then it hit me. “Marc remembers me.”

  “And that is unfortunate for the boy,” the old man said. “Once you die, he will go after the boy. The child doesn’t stand a chance.”

  I buried my face in my hands. “Why did he have to be able to remember me? Now my existence is going to get him killed. He’s just a sick little boy who did nothing but be my friend.”

  Mr. Black cleared his throat. “Without seeing the boy in person, I can only speculate. But it seems to me he is a reincarnated soul. Something very rare on Earth. Only one in a trillion born on Earth have that privilege. Of course he doesn’t know it. His memories were wiped as per the usual protocol.”

  He proceeded to pour himself a cup. “Your artificial soul is why people from Earth would forget you. Marc’s reincarnated soul allowed him to remember you.”

  That doesn’t make much sense to me, but that doesn’t matter.

  “Is there nothing I can do?” I slapped my hands on the table. “There has to be something I can do. I have to help him.”

  Mr. Black hummed for a moment. “There is one thing. Although, there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed.”

  I clenched my fist. “What? Just tell me.”

  “You could find out who created you and use that to bargain for a chance to exist.”

  I rubbed my eyes with my hands and blinked. “Are you saying if I can find out who committed the crime of creating me and sell them out, I can live? No more dying? Then I can go home? And that will save Marc?”

  “Dying could still happen,” he said nonchalantly. “But yes. It’s more of a chance than you had. And it will also at least buy the child time. Although, I’m very hesitant to tell you about it. There are fates worse than death and complete destruction.”

  “Tell me.”

  Mr. Black sighed. “There is a tower world called the Soul Nexus. Those who climb to the summit can have any one wish granted. No matter what it is, it will happen.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, right. That sounds way too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

  He shook his head. “No catch. Just climb the summit and you can have your wish to know the name of the one who created you.”

  I waved my hand. “If I could have any wish, why wouldn’t I wish for something else? I don’t know, maybe no longer being an artificial soul. Or become a god?”

  He nodded. “You could wish for those things. You could also wish to return to your world and be noticed by the humans around you. But know that gods are not supreme beings. Even as a god, you can still be hunted and destroyed. Besides, being a god is nothing but paperwork and responsibilities. I wouldn’t suggest it. And as for no longer being an artificial soul, you might want to word that better. Because that wish could be fulfilled by destroying you.”

  Oddly specific. I swallowed. “Right, be careful what you wish for. But why didn’t you want to tell me about the Soul Nexus?”

  “Because greater than you have challenged it and were claimed.” He was back to his flat, emotionless tone. “You’ll be the weakest to challenge the Soul Nexus, ever.”

  Way to kill my hope. I pouted. “You criticized me for being rude.”

  The man raised his hand. “It was not my intention to be rude, but to inform you of how dangerous of an idea this is.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How many people have succeeded?”

  Mr. Black thought for a moment. “The figure I was last aware of was that out of the seven-point-five three septillions, only four succeeded in climbing to the top. But those are better odds than what you’ll have if you deal with The Broker. I don’t even want to guess what he’ll do to you. But the cost would be far greater than you would be willing to pay. And there’s no guarantee he’ll protect you either.”

  “He sounds like a jerk.” I deflated in my chair. “But what are my options? Do I sit here and have tea and cookies until whoever wants me destroyed shows up?” Those cookies are to die for. “Or do I head to this Soul Nexus and attempt the impossible task of climbing it? Or better yet, wander in that empty hall until I find someone else who will probably send me off to be destroyed like you should have done?”

  “More or less.” He picked up his plate with a cup and took a sip of tea. “I’d make amiable company. And, I’d say, your company would be a nice change of pace.”

  “How long do I have?” I asked.

  “Only a few hours,” Mr. Black said nonchalantly.

  “Even if it is a long shot, I’ve got to try.” I don’t want to just die without a fight. I tried that. It didn’t work out for me. “So, I guess I’ll need to go to this Soul Nexus. How do I get there?”

  Mr. Black took another sip. It looked like he had no opinion on the matter, but something about how his movements stiffened made me believe he wished I hadn’t said that. “You aren’t ready, but if you are set on taking this path, so be it.” He waved his hand at the door. He stood up and offered me a hand. “Through that door a test. You don’t know what you are getting into, so let this simple task educate you.”

  “Task?”

  He brandished a long knife and placed it in my hand and curled my fingers around the handle. “Kill the rats in the cellar and prove to me you are ready for this. Because if you can’t accomplish this, You never will stand a chance in the Soul Nexus.”

  I scratched the back of my head. “Rats in a cellar, really? Why rats?”

  Mr. Black rolled his eyes and muttered, “No respect for the classics.” He waved his hand. “Just go with it.”

  I swallowed hard as I stared at the twelve inches of sharpened steel. “Is this dangerous?”

  He nodded. “Most certainly. Do you wish to reconsider?”

  I turned to the door. “No.”

  Placing one foot in front of the other, I walked to the door, opened it, and walked down the wooden stairs into the dimly lit room.

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