Elsewhere(19)

"Is there any way I could go back to my old life?"

Aldous looks at Liz sternly. "Now I must warn you, Elizabeth. There is no way you can or should go back to your old life. Your old life is over, and you can never go back. You may hear of a place called the Well "

"What's the Well?" Liz interrupts him.

"It's strictly forbidden," says Aldous. "Now about the Sneaker Clause "

"Why is it forbidden?"

Aldous shakes his head. "It just is. Now, about the Sneaker Clause "

"I don't think that's for me," Liz interrupts. As much as she misses Earth, she realizes that what she misses about Earth is all the people she knows there. Without them, going back seems pointless. Not to mention, she doesn't want to be a baby just yet.

Aldous nods. "Of course, you still have a year to decide."

"I understand." Liz pauses. "Um, Aldous, can I ask you one more question?"

"You want to know where God is in all of this, am I right?" Aldous asks.

Liz is genuinely surprised. Aldous had read her mind. "How did you know I was going to ask that?"

"Let's just say I've been doing this awhile." Aldous takes off his tortoiseshell glasses and cleans them on his pants. "God's there in the same way He, She, or It was before to you. Nothing has changed."

How could Aldous say that? Liz wonders. For her, everything is changed.

"I think you'll find," Aldous continues, "that dying is just an other part of living, Elizabeth. In time, you may even come to see your death as a birth. Just think of it as Elizabeth Hall: The Sequel.'''' Aldous replaces his glasses and looks at his watch. "Good lord!" Aldous exclaims.

"Would you look at the time? We have to get you over to the Department of Last Words, or Sarah's going to have my head."

Last Words

At the Department of Last Words, Liz is met by an efficient woman who reminds Liz of a camp counselor. "Hello, Ms. Hall," the woman says. "I'm Sarah Miles, and I just need to confirm what your last words were."

"I'm not sure I remember. For the longest time, I didn't even know I was dead," Liz apologizes.

"Oh, that's all right. It's just a formality really," says Sarah. She consults a musty encyclopediasized book. "Right, it says here your last words, or I should say last word, was 'um.' "

Liz waits for Sarah to finish speaking. In fact, she is quite interested to know what her last words were. Would they be profound? Sad? Pathetic? Heartrending? Illuminating? Angry? Horrified?

After several moments of silence, Liz realizes Sarah is staring at her. "So," says Liz.

"So," replies Sarah, "was it 'um'?"

"Was it um what?" Liz asks.

"I meant, was your last word 'um'?"

"You're saying the last thing I ever said was 'um'?"

"That's what it says in the book, and the book's never wrong." Sarah pats the tome affectionately.

"God, I can't believe how crappy that is." Liz shakes her head.

"Oh, it's not that bad." Sarah smiles. "I've definitely heard worse."

"I just wish I'd said something more . . ." Liz pauses. "Something more, um ..." Her voice trails off.

"Right." Sarah sympathizes for exactly three seconds. "So, I just need you to sign off on this."

"If you already know what I said, why do you need me to sign off on them?" Liz is still steaming that the last thing she would ever say on Earth was "um."

"I don't know. It's just how things are done here."

Liz sighs. "Where do I sign?"

As Liz is leaving, she reflects on her last words. If your last words are somehow meant to encapsulate your entire existence, Liz finds um strangely appropriate. Um means nothing. Um is what you say while you're thinking of what you'll really say. Um suggests someone interrupted before they'd begun. Um is a fifteen-year-old girl who gets hit by a taxicab in front of a mall on the way to help pick out a prom dress for a prom she isn't even going to, for God's sake. Um. Liz shakes her head, vowing to omit um and all equally meaningless words (uh, like, huh, sorta, kinda, oh, hey, maybe) from her vocabulary.

Back in the lobby of the Office of Acclimation, Liz is happy to spot a familiar face. "Thandi!"

Thandi turns around, smiling broadly at Liz. "You just do your last words, too?"

Liz nods. "Apparently, all I said was 'um,' although I was too screwed up to remember anyway.

How were yours?"

"Well" Thandi hesitates "I can't really repeat them."

"Come on," Liz prods, "I just told you mine, and they were totally lame."

"Oh, all right, if you really want to know. The gist was 'Jesus Christ, Slim, I think I've been shot in the head!' Only I said the f-word a couple times, too. And then I died."

Liz laughs a little. "At least you were descriptive and accurate."

Thandi shakes her head. "I wish I hadn't cursed, though. I wasn't raised that way, and now it's on my permanent record."

"Cut yourself some slack, Thandi. I mean, you'd just been shot in the head. I think, under the circumstances, it's okay you said 'fu ' "