Brock was alone in the dark. A soft Voice whispered, “The Creator is coming,” and then he was no longer alone. Before him was a spiral staircase, no, two spiral staircases intertwined, one black, the other white, rising high over his head. High above, a white light glowed and the soft Voice whispered, “The Creator is waiting.”
“Which staircase do I climb?” he asked. “One cannot exist without the other,” whispered the Voice. “You will climb them both.” Brock felt happiness, for he knew where he was going, but also he mourned, for he knew what he must leave behind. “How do you feel?” whispered the Voice. “I feel both joyful and sorrowful,” he replied. “One cannot exist without the other,” whispered the Voice, and Brock watched as, side by side, his joy and sorrow ascended the staircases together. Brock was exhilarated, for he was to sit at The Creator’s right hand, but he was fearful too. “How do you feel?” whispered the Voice. “I feel both excitement and fear,” Brock replied, and he watched as, side by side, his excitement and fear ascended the staircases together. Brock waited at the foot of the stairs as piece by piece, side by side, each part of him climbed the spiral staircases towards the light; pride and guilt, love and hate, compassion and contempt, and as they climbed, the soft Voice whispered to him. There was a shout, the light flickered, and as one, each pair turned and began to descend again. “No!” Brock shouted. “What are you doing? Climb towards the light,” but onwards they came, and for the first time, Brock saw that the staircases led not only upwards, but also downwards into the darkness. He was seized with panic and he called out to The Creator, but he could no longer hear the whispering above the other voices that were shouting at him. “Is the IV in?” “10cc’s of adrenaline, stat!” “Charging to 200. Clear!” And then the darkness.