Adam and Eve are Alive and Well

"Will someone please turn off that light," Frankie said.

"Sorry," came the response. It sounded clear, but Frankie didn't hear it so much as feel it arrive in his head. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light, trying to discern the shape hovering over him.

"We can't get rid of the light," the voice continued, "but these will help."

Frankie felt something being slipped over his eyes.

"Sunglasses?" he asked.

"Spectral shades," corrected the voice. "Ethereal light leaks in from everywhere. We've tried blinds, dampers, even a few magic spells left over from the Druids. We've found that spectral shades work best."

Frankie down-shifted his brain. He was skilled at communication, but there was something about the conversation that didn't add up. He tried to bring the shadowy figure above him into focus, but it refused definition. It was almost as if the surrounding air blended to form a cloudy apparition.

"Where the hell am I?" he asked, annoyed.

"Please don't fidget, and let's not get vulgar, Adam."

"My name is Frankie."

"That will come as a great disappointment to Eve."

"Listen, My name is Francis Ramirez Fillipeña," said Frankie, desperately searching for the reality adjustment knob.

"Adam," the voice corrected.

"I'm a business entrepreneur," Frankie continued, undaunted.

"Video-store owner."

"And ... Damn! I just ran my car into a tree." That had to hurt, thought Frankie.

"Actually you didn't feel much pain. It was over quickly."

Obviously it could read thoughts.

"Am I in Heaven?" Frankie asked.

"Not Heaven proper. You're in the Antares Wing of the Re-assignment and Re-distribution Center."

"You send people back?"

"Everything has a spirit, Adam, and we recycle many things ... pets, armoires, those little plastic things on the end of shoelaces. Remember that nice rhododendron you ripped up last spring?"

"Yeah."

"It's in Albuquerque now. Sometimes we send people back--on rare occasions--but we always send you back."

"Why?"

"Because you're Adam."

Frankie sighed. "Fine, I'm Adam. Do you mind if I get up and walk around? I think the accident may have shifted my spinal column."

"Sure, but you'll probably get vertigo."

"I don't get vertigo," said Frankie as he stood up and immediately got vertigo. He could hardly be blamed because there was no floor. The earth, about the size of a soccer ball, lay beneath his feet.

"You get used to it after a few eons," said the apparition.

Frankie looked up to avoid getting sick.  "So, I suppose you're an angel."

"In a manner of speaking, but we don't call ourselves angels. We're light, or perhaps energy would be a better description.  In order to save time and not bore you with metaphysical details, you can call me an angel."

"And does this ray of light standing before me have a name?"

"Yes, but its long. My name is based on the kind of angel I am, where I come from, who I've served, and other things that would take too long to explain."

Frankie waited patiently, an expectant expression on his face.

"Okay, fine," the angel said.  "It's Seraphorphi-androsöir sync Nuntilles conFundrum e'Ulm."

"Pleased to meet you Surfy."

"You just shortened it to the equivalent of Smitty. Do you know how many Seraphs there are here?"

"Umpteen gazillion?"

"You underestimate."

"Well, you're the only Surfy I see. Now tell me about this Adam and Eve stuff."

"Oh that. It's really quite simple. Since you and Eve were actual creations rather than carbon copies--carbon being the operative word--any goodness that exists in the world descends directly from the two of you.

"I always thought so."

"Don't get insolent, because we found out, much to our dismay, that the goodness you pass on has a half-life, weakening over time."

"Who'd have thought you'd be restricted by the laws of nature," said Frankie.

"You don't think goodness exists of its own accord do you?"

"I never thought much about it."

"It isn't simply there, rich and pulsating with promise each day. It must be nurtured--its vigor replenished constantly. So, in order to maintain a fresh supply, we had to keep sending you back."

"How often?"

"Every few generations, for thousands of years. You do the math."

Frankie declined. His eighth-grade teacher told him he would use math everywhere. He hadn't expected it to be part of eternity.  No wonder classes had seemed like Hell.

"Wouldn't bringing us back every couple eons have been enough?"

"You would think so, but Lucifer surprised us. He started reincarnating Cain to give evil the upper hand, and Cain procreated like a goat. It was all we could do to keep ahead of him."

"Why don't you just kill all the Cains that come into the world."

"We did that for a while. A well-placed thunderbolt can really do wonders, but we started getting over-anxious and innocent mothers were getting tremendous powder burns. We don't accept collateral damage here, so we've just left it to fate."

"I thought you believed in pre-destiny."

"Were not all-knowing."

"We've been led to believe so. Don't get mad at me."

"You know, it hasn't been an easy millennium."

Frankie backed off. Light was arcing from Surfy's imprecise fingertips with an ominous crackling sound. He had heard about light in an excited state. Perhaps this is what the physicists were describing.

"Why didn't you split Eve and I up?" Frankie asked, hoping to get Surfy talking again. "We could propagate goodness faster with each of us doing so separately."

"We tried that," Surfy said. Light had stopped arcing, and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief. "But the good you produced separately weakened even more quickly. You're much more cost-effective together, and you got along well, so we kept you together."

Frankie paused and did some calculations. Suddenly an odd look crossed his face. "Surfy, I've been sleeping with the same woman for thousands of years."

"I know what you're thinking, Adam, and for the sake of your sanity it's best you let it go. Besides, It's been no picnic for Eve either."

"How so?"

"Well, being a woman, her life expectancy is longer, so you usually die first."

"I don't understand."

"We can't keep you here very long, so we usually have to terminate her life quickly once you arrive. We've had her run through by a sword, and even burned at the stake. Once you had a heart attack while you were both traveling by ship, and a gentle push over the side seemed the most expedient way to get her here. It's gotten pretty gruesome at times, but we need to move quickly."

Frankie shuddered. "Now I feel bad for dying on her."

"Eve usually shows up irritated, and right now she's only two pounds shy of fitting into a size six."

"Oh, is she going to be mad. I couldn't wait until she had so my life could return to normal."

"Your life has never been normal with Eve."

"You know, I always wondered where she got that attitude."

"She's been like that ever since the snake fiasco, but she's just about to begin her period. We'll take her before she has to go through another one of those."

"That should take some of the edge off," said a relieved Frankie.

"You said it."

For a moment, Frankie thought he saw a wistful look come over Surfy, if indeed that were possible in a creature made of energy and air. Perhaps beings of light experienced their own time of the month. It would explain a lot.

"So," said Frankie, eagerly rubbing his hands together. It wasn't everyone that got this many chances at life. "Where are you sending us this time?"

"Lets see." Surfy rummaged through an odd object he held. "Well, good news. It looks like you're headed for Philadelphia."

"Philadelphia?" asked Frankie, incredulously. "Why Philadelphia?"

"Have you seen their professional sports legacy?  They need all the help they can get."