Chapter 2

Adams found it a comfort to spend time with Casey, and he began doing so often. He understood that his guilt would weigh on him for all eternity, but he was slowly accepting that and moving forward. Casey often invited Adams to meet other angels, and soon, he was known as a quite popular, yet somewhat broody, angel. 

Casey sometimes asked Adams if he was aware of how everyone seemed drawn to him. Ze explained that while everyone got along well for the most part in the Realm of the Angels, ze had never seen anyone quite as likable. Other angels began regularly inviting Adams to parties and gatherings, and he always made sure to include Casey. He sometimes noticed that angels would look strangely at Casey, but when he asked, angels said he was imagining something. In truth, everyone was kind to them both, yet Adams could not help but wonder if there was something he was missing about zir.

Among the great number of people he was meeting were people from other worlds. In life, Adams had asked himself once or twice if he believed that life existed beyond Earth. However, it never seemed relevant to question or pursue it. The great variety of species he met was astounding, and it took getting used to. Even so, he could always understand them, as if they all spoke a universal language. This was even more astonishing to Adams, since he had never had a knack for learning foreign languages. He often found opportunities to compare cultural ideology, music, and stories. It was all amazing, and a welcome distraction.

There came a day when Stiggens came to visit him. He knew without looking that the knock was Stiggens, as the door was connected to him as everything in his quarters was. After he invited Stiggens in, there was a long pause before the older angel slowly eased into the room. Adams offered Stiggens a seat and waited while the man slowly considered his options and finally sat onto a sofa in the middle of the room.

“It’s time for you to choose a job,” the man said slowly when Adams asked why he was visiting.

“I see. I suppose you’re right.”

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do? I’ve heard that you’ve been asking others about their duties. I’m impressed by the speed of your acceptance, Brother, and I look forward to your future here.”

“Truthfully, sir…” Adams started.

“Have they not explained to you?” Stiggens interrupted in his own slow manner. “There is no true hierarchy here. We are all brothers and sisters and friends. Friend Casey told me ze has accompanied you to many activities. Perhaps you are interested in working in the Archive with zir.”

“I don’t think that kind of thing is right for me,” Adams confessed. “I think I’d rather work with people.”

“Well, as you know, there are several opportunities for that. You can work with intake to help the newly deceased to accept their deaths and choose their next path.”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it, Stiggens?”

“No, Brother. You were a special case.” Adams expressed curiosity in this statement, so Stiggens continued. “Every once in a while, an immortal communicates a particular interest in an individual. It isn’t so much that they favor you, more so that they see some future for you. Often, instead of sharing any details, an individual is chosen by the immortal to do intake for this newly deceased person.”

“I…I’m honored,” Adams stuttered. 

Stiggens let out a slow, even laugh. 

“Should I not be?” Adams asked.

“Oh no,” Stiggens said. “Feel free to be honored. I’m merely amused by the concept.”

“Why?”

“As I’ve mentioned, Brother, there are no true hierarchies here. The hierarchy that exists is purely in the minds of those who live here, whose lives were often driven by societal hierarchies, and who feel it necessary to function as part of our society. As such, an immortal cannot honor us as they are not above us.” 

He paused for a moment, as if he forgot what he was going to say. 

Just as Adams opened his mouth to respond, Stiggens continued. “I often think that when an immortal requests a particular angel to welcome a soul, they do so with balance in mind. The immortals rarely interfere with the affairs of Midrealm, but we do. I am sure they see patterns we do not, and seek balance in the universe in things that we do not yet understand. There are individuals who have joined with the Source as a recommendation of an immortal. There are others who have become a part of our realm. We all do our jobs here, but I suppose sometimes there is a need to fill a certain position, and perhaps that is why a certain person becomes of interest.”

“What’s in store for me, then?”

“The immortals never share their plans with us. Not me, at least. You’ll learn all about this once you begin your training.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve gone off on a tangent. My apologies.”

“That’s right. We were discussing job options.”

“Perhaps you are more suited to be a guardian. You’ll be assigned individuals who you can identify with, and then help them throughout their lives. Would that interest you?”

“Maybe,” Adams said, pausing to consider it. “Is there anything where I can go to Earth? Perhaps even see my family?”

“Ah, yes. Transference to Earth is restricted to a particular area of our realm. It is used for angels who do tasks there, such as Messengers and Mourners. You’ve heard of those?”

“Briefly.”

“Messengers carry verbal or emotional messages between angels in Midrealm and here, as well as from angels to those who still live. Mourners stay with families of the deceased and ease their emotional burden.”

“And would I be able to see my family?”

“Messengers often tell me that they are able to take a little time to observe the living while in Midrealm. Perhaps that would be a viable option for you.” Stiggens spoke slowly, and Adams’s excitement built as he spoke.

He wanted to shout out his agreement, but instead waited impatiently for the man to finish before blurting out an excited request.

“Please allow me to be a messenger,” Adams said.

Stiggens let out a slow laugh again. He let out a low groan as he stood from the sofa and returned to his feet.

“I am not a trainer. However, it has been requested that I carry out your training as well. We will begin tomorrow. I will call for you to meet me in the Northern Training Grounds.”

“I look forward to it,” Adams replied. 

He held the door as Stiggens made his way through the doorway. 

Before he closed it, he asked, “Stiggens, if you aren’t assigned to intake and you aren’t a trainer….well, then what is your job?”

“I’m a member of the High Council,” he replied plainly, before turning and going on his way.

Adams was taken aback. The High Council was the governing body of the angels. They assessed the validity of the current laws of the angels, The Celestial Code, gave punishments if necessary, and handled requests and disputes that arose. 

For example, Casey had told Adams that recently several family members had each requested to be guardian for their descendants. They had requested an audience with the High Council to determine who was the best fit. The High Council had divided up their descendants based on their needs and allowed a small amount of overlap in jurisdiction.

When Adams had once asked how the High Council was chosen, Casey had explained that they were some of the oldest and most experienced angels, and that they existed closer to the true energy form of Highrealm than any of the other angels. Adams tried to contain his excitement and remember that there was no hierarchy in the Realm of the Angels, but he could not imagine why a member of the High Council would be requested to train him. The thought enthralled him.

He rushed to Casey’s room and asked zir as many questions as he could muster about the High Council, about Stiggens, and about training. Casey laughed at him, much how Stiggens had, although more joyously and more mockingly.

“I’m excited for you, too,” Casey patronized when Adams told zir how excited he was.

“When I was alive, I was part of an international consortium,” Adams said. “We worked toward legislation to end wars and bring global peace. It was a struggle, and it constantly felt like it was falling apart. The last year of my life, I felt like it was over, and that our last chance was gone. I really believed that the next generation would grow up in an ending world that didn’t care about its impact on the planet, much less the next generation of people to share our planet. But this…this is another chance for me. I can make a difference; I can feel it.”

“Well, there’s some reason for it,” Casey said. “And it seems pretty unlikely that a High Council member would be assigned to train you just for balance.”

Adams could not help but hug Casey for understanding what he was feeling. Casey patted his back gently and laughed again. Only moments passed before Adams started asking more questions.

Adams went to sleep on a regular schedule, despite never feeling tired. It just seemed right to lie down, close his eyes, and imagine what lay before him. His mind drifted to Casey’s thoughts about prophecy and found himself wondering if there was some prophecy about him. He could not help but imagine himself changing the world. Perhaps inspiring a new reign of peaceful conversations between nations, or sparking a widespread belief in the human family as one unit. Instead, maybe he would change the system of the angels somehow, make contact with Midrealm more concrete. Or it could be that he would train an angel or provide relief for a living person who would do all the wonderful things he never could. Was he thinking too small? Could it be that he changed the very state of being in the universe?

His dreams of grandeur were interrupted by Stiggens requesting his presence at the Northern Training Grounds. He quickly looked himself over and ran a comb through his hair before rushing out. He speedily jogged to the false forest of the training grounds. 

The entrance was quite grand, flanked by two trees so tall that he could not even begin to estimate their height. They were wider than he was tall, and a strange golden red. The first branches began at twice his height and stretched out in thick branches to entangle together. The bark’s pattern reminded him of a strange art piece he had seen once, where thousands of lines had made their way in intricate patterns down the canvas, creating all shapes and sizes of polygons. Walking under these trees, Adams was in awe of how small he felt, even though he was an angel.

Stiggens was waiting a short walk within, and when Adams told him that he had rushed there, Stiggens smiled.

“As you know, there was no reason to hurry,” he said in his usual slow way.

“I know you’ve said that time is meaningless here, but I don’t understand.”

Stiggens tried not to laugh as he replied, “There is nothing more to say. Time is relative, for humans in Midrealm and for us here. In the Angelic Realm, our lack of a physical reality makes it even more subjective. You’ll come to understand the longer you are here.”

Adams’s head was reeling already, and he knew that they had not even begun. Still, he was eager to get started. They made their way to a small clearing, and Stiggens had Adams sit at the center. He formed a small ball of energy while telling Adams that he wanted him to hold it gently.

“Just try to keep it from dissipating,” Stiggens said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, yet no matter how hard Adams tried, it disappeared just as it hit his hands.

“What am I doing wrong?” Adams asked each time.

“You’re thinking too hard about it,” Stiggens replied. “Just let it happen, like catching a raindrop.”

Adams wanted so badly to learn this, but it just would not happen. He grew more and more frustrated. Stiggens ignored it at first, but finally stopped giving Adams another ball.

“I’m ready!” Adams said.

“Yes, I know,” Stiggens replied. “I’m afraid that I’m just a little tired. Perhaps we’ll take a rest.”

“I’m sorry. Of course. Please rest.”

Stiggens sat on the ground next to Adams and took a deep breath.

“When I came here, it felt like a year before I could stand with my guilt,” Stiggens said. “There were many things that I never thought bothered me until I died. The weight of it all was incredible, as you know. There were some days that I thought I should give up and take another course of action. I often thought that it was impossible to exist with the guilt of all I’d done. 

“And then one day, I found myself wondering what this realm looked like, and I peered out of my room, and I saw something out of a fairy tale. I couldn’t leave, just stare. And an older angel was walking by and called out to me. She smiled and told me that she had been looking forward to meeting me, as she had been a guardian to my family for many years. I didn’t understand what any of it meant, but I took a step out to thank her. 

“My world changed. I hadn’t realized all the things I knew that I hadn’t before, and I suddenly had so many questions.” He smiled at the memory. “Sometimes, it just takes a small push…” 

He formed a ball in his hands, threw it in the air, and caught it.

“I don’t understand,” Adams replied.

“That’s alright, Brother,” Stiggens chuckled. 

He threw the ball up and down a few more times. 

Adams sighed, thinking of his remarkable future. He could not even do this simple thing. He was not special. Everything Stiggens said was true, he was just a balance, a gap that needed to be filled. All he could hope to accomplish was to be the best angel he could. 

Just as he was about to make some response to Stiggens’ story, Stiggens suddenly threw the ball too high. Adams jumped in alarm as it drifted in the wind and plummeted toward the ground. Instinctively, he leaned far and fell to the ground with his arms outstretched, catching the ball. He looked at it, glowing so brightly that he could feel a warmth coming from it, and smiled.

“I see we’ve completed our work for today,” Stiggens said.

“What? But I just got it. We should do more,” Adams argued.

Stiggens laughed.

“There is plenty of time, Brother, and this is just the first step of many. Reflect on it.”

Adams was in the middle of arguing another point when Casey’s voice called out from behind him. He turned to see his friend and tried to explain what was happening. Casey laughed at him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“I have a better idea,” ze said. “I hear you’re going to become a messenger. And I just happen to know that a new batch of messenger recruits is holding their training at this very moment. I thought you’d like to go watch for a while.” Ze smiled at Stiggens. “If your trainer wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not, Friend. We are done for today,” Stiggens said. 

Before Adams could argue, Stiggens turned and left. It was the fastest thing Adams had ever seen Stiggens do.

“I guess it sounds interesting,” Adams grunted.

As soon as they caught sight of the training, Casey noticed that Adams’s demeanor changed. The angels were doing something strange with a colored energy, as if pushing and pulling it between them. Their trainer held an orb at the center of the group which had this color drifting out of it in discrete yet wispy clouds. The shape of the clouds transformed itself into objects as it approached the angels: a dog, a bush, a child.

“What’s happening?” Adams asked.

“You know what messengers do, don’t you?” Casey asked.

“Uh…deliver messages?”

“Well, yes,” Casey chuckled, “but how?” 

Ze let Adams think for a moment before continuing.

“The messages often have an oral component, but words rarely convey the full meaning of the message. If I tell you that I believe in you, that’s a message, but if I can convey my feelings of pride, and my desire for you to take responsibility…well, that’s much more powerful. If I can show you what I see for your future, that visualization gives it even more power.”

“So that orange light,” Adams started, unsure of exactly how to continue the question.

“It’s a visualization of a message,” Casey replied. “Early on, the trainer colors the emotional energy so that students can get used to the feeling associated with the emotion. The students are taking messages of a certain kind and translating images embedded in them. They start off simple, with concrete things like objects. But once they get that, they’ll learn to create imagery and fill it with the deep emotion that lies within a message.”

“I can’t believe how amazing this is,” Adams said. “Can they create visualizations outside of the training grounds, then?”

“If they become powerful enough, yes. But most can’t. Most messages are transmitted through the recipient’s dreams, when they are most receptive.” Ze laughed when ze saw how excited Adams seemed to be. “Why a messenger? You are way too excited to just be a messenger.”

“I’m going to visit my family,” Adams said plainly. “I’m going to apologize to them and see if there’s anything I can do for them.”

“Apologize?”

Adams would not say any more, but he was suddenly very serious. Adams was certainly determined to see his family again, and although he had never disclosed the circumstances of his and his niece’s death, Casey often thought that a huge part of Adams’s guilt must lie there.

Adams doubled his efforts thereafter. All concepts of time were lost to him as he plunged into the manipulation of energy. Suddenly, he could feel everything around him. A bench was no longer a bench, but instead a collection of energy that felt like a bench. The wood texture felt real, the scent smelled real, but the energetics were wrong. It wasn’t a bench at all. When he told Stiggens, the old angel reminded him that the aesthetics of the Realm of the Angels were highly subjective. 

When not training, Adams dedicated himself to trying to alter his perception of the Realm. To him, the sun rose in a perceived east and set in a perceived west. It was yellow in the sky, except at the red and purple dawn and dusk. Clouds dusted the sky in differing patterns, and there was even an occasional pleasant shower of rain accompanied by comforting rumbles of thunder. The floors were a white marble, and covered pathways where the doors were. Large columns were spaced at regular intervals that also had a familiar marble pattern. The wooden benches scattered around the Realm were stained a rich reddish-brown, but were ornamented with gold. There were many areas that overlooked atria, some which held more hallways of doors, but others that overlooked flowing rivers and rippling ponds. The railings were a clear glass that never smudged, always staying crystal clear.

When he asked Casey how ze perceived the Realm, ze replied, “It usually looks like night to me.”

“Night? Why night?”

“I’ve always loved the night. A cool, gentle breeze coming and going.”

Adams looked around him. It was noon to him, the middle of the day. 

“So right now, it’s night?” he asked.

“Yes,” Casey laughed. “I can point out constellations to you, or the moon, if you’d like.”

“But if it’s always dark, how can you see?”

“I wish to see,” Casey said. “So I see clearly.”

“What about the ground?”

“It looks like grass to me. And what you call columns, I see as tree trunks. Of course, some things are the same. The loggias are still open, overlooking lower levels. And doors to an angel’s quarters will always look like the door the owner wishes it to be. Benches and railings are in the same locations. But it doesn’t matter if they’re wood or plastic or diamond.”

Adams spent two days meditating, focusing extensively on changing his perception of the Realm. And it did not take long for him to create a world where the sun stayed out longer, or where there were two moons, which he named after his sister and niece.

Unlike most others, he began his messenger training while also continuing his training with Stiggens. It went by quickly for him, and he excitedly awaited its completion. As he learned to manipulate messages, he slowly and carefully crafted his own. He focused the emotion on the intense love he felt for his sister and his sadness at leaving her while also balancing his pride in the work he was going to do as an angel. He created a visualization of playing with her as children, laughing excitedly. Illeina joined them, content and happy. He and Illeina both had angel wings, and they felt warm and soft when they brushed against skin. They hugged, and his sister kissed them both over and over on the cheek and forehead and nose. It was joyful.

On the day of his first mission, he ate lunch with Casey, who was overly interested in the message he was sending.

“It’s simple,” Adams said. “It is my first, after all. The message is from a Guardian to someone who interacts with one of their descendants. The woman is in love with the Guardian’s descendant but has been afraid to speak to him about it. She wants to encourage the woman to be brave and to see where the relationship will lead.”

“That doesn’t sound so simple to me,” Casey huffed, putting zir head in zir hands.

“I spoke with her for a while and crafted the message with her. She really liked it.”

“I just love how you take things too far.” 

Adams smiled more genuinely than he had in a long time.

He was called to deliver the message, and his supervisor went over the protocol with him. He showed the supervisor what he had created with the Guardian. The supervisor was so moved that his eyes teared up, and he called another supervisor to show her as well. Finally, after showcasing the work to the other messengers that arrived and were ready to depart, they sent Adams on his way. He felt confident and proud, in the perfect mood to deliver his own message.

Once transferring to Midrealm, he was able to move more freely. He moved about as energy and moved more quickly than he could even have imagined. It felt as if he was being pulled along by a raging river, yet keeping full control over its movements. Angels were not allowed to use their energy in this way in the Realm of the Angels, as it was easily felt by others and could become bothersome. However, because most inhabitants of Midrealm could not sense the energy of an Angel, it was no problem to push himself as hard as he could. He reached his target’s home almost instantaneously.

The delivery of the Guardian’s message went flawlessly. The woman interacted with the dream just as he planned, even though he had accounted for many variations just in case. Her dream self seemed confident and empowered. As he turned to leave, however, he noticed she had a large alarm clock on her nightstand. A calendar sat next to it, and when he leaned in, he saw that she put an “X” when the day had passed. She listed tasks for the day on the calendar and checked them off as they were completed. And as he bent down to look at the date in disbelief, he gasped at its confirmation. It had been over nine months since he had died. He tried to recall precisely how much time had gone by, but it all ran together. And he reminded himself that it could have felt like a day and that would mean nothing, since time could pass so differently between Midrealm and the Realm of the Angels.

Within minutes, he was at the home his sister shared with her husband and mother-in-law. He was surprised to find that the couple was awake. He had hoped that they would be asleep, since it would be easier to give the message that way.

“She may never wake up,” Adams heard her husband say. “We may need to accept that.”

“I don’t want to,” his sister cried.

“You’ve been avoiding this for far too long, Amanda. We have to have this conversation.”

Adams was appalled. Had his brother-in-law’s mother become ill? Perhaps she was in some medical treatment and not doing well. It brought tears to his eyes. Surely, his sister had been through enough. Did she really need another loss so soon after losing her brother and daughter?

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He moved to sit next to her and pulled her close. “I wish my brother was here.”

“It’s his fault we’re in this situation,” her husband said.

“How can you still hold a grudge? I thought you’d moved past this.”

“I’m sorry. I know. It’s just, whenever we go to the hospital and see her lying there…”

He choked up. A lump grew in Adams’s throat as they spoke.

“I just can’t let her go. She’s my little girl.”

The tears Adams had been holding back broke through, and he rushed to wipe them away, as if doing so would change what he was hearing.

“Illeina has been lying there for almost a year. The doctors say she may not even be okay if she wakes up.”

“I don’t care. She might be okay.” She shook her head. “Let’s talk about this later. I can’t think about it right now.” 

She was bawling, trying desperately to get the words out. Her husband pulled her close and gently rocked her. 

Adams could not breathe, could not move, could not think.

Illeina was alive.