What Comes After


     "Come..."  the guide said, "this way.  It's not much further."  
We turn down another hall, just like the one we left.
     It seems like we've been walking for days already, and I swear I 
think we're going in circles.  Hallway after hallway after hallway.  
All the same.  The floor is marble tile, black squares and white 
squares, like the whole place was built on a huge pavement of giant 
chess boards.  Every six paces, on the left and right side of the 
hall, are doorways.  The walls are white, the great arched doorways 
framed in white pillars, only the knobs are black and shiny like 
obsidian.  All the doors are closed.  At every sixth set of doors 
hangs an elaborate chandelier.  Six arms of black iron radiate from a 
central hub of white glass.  From the point where the chandelier 
fastens to the arched white ceiling, strings of white beads drape down 
to each of the six arms, at whose ends there are white globes.  No 
light is coming from the globes.
     "Where is the light coming from?" I wonder briefly.
     "Not much further." my guide informs me.  He never looks back at 
me, always moving forward in a slow deliberate way.  For the first 
time since he met me at the front gates I notice he seems to move 
without walking... like there are no legs underneath the long white 
robe... floating...
     "Almost there" the guide tells me.  His voice echoes in my head 
like a grandfather clock chiming the quarter-hour in a distant room.  I 
follow without saying a word.
     We continue walking down the endless corridors, my footsteps 
ringing noticeably in the otherwise absolute silence.  Every sixth 
pace a set of doors.  Every sixth door a chandelier.  Every chandelier 
has six arms, every arm has a white globe.  No globe shines any light.
     How can a place be so big?  How long have I been following the 
guide with the long white robe?  I wish I'd remembered to put my watch 
on that day.
     "Funny..." I think suddenly.  "What was I doing that day?" I seem 
to be forgetting things, my mind is losing track of everything that 
went on before I came here.  I... I can't remember why I came here, or 
how I got here.  I remember that someone behind a big doorway asked me 
my name.  I remember hearing pages turning, several pages.  then I 
heard someone writing, making scratching sounds, as though writing 
with a quill pen on heavy parchment in some great book.  I can't 
remember much about it now.  The fog at the gates seems to have 
clouded my memory.  I remember the gate opening and being met by this 
robed figure who I've been following for... how long has it been??  
Out of habit I turn my wrist, checking for the time on my watch.  But 
there is no watch on my wrist.  Even the pale band around my wrist 
that my watch kept from getting tanned is gone.  My skin is the color 
of ashes.
     We come to the end of a corridor.  another hallway branches off 
to the right and left.  It is the same, in every detail as the one we 
just left; black and white tiles on the floor, every sixth pace a 
door, every door is white with a black knob.  Every sixth door a 
chandelier, every chandelier has six arms, every arm has a white 
globe, no globe shines any light.








     My footsteps ring in the silence.  My guide leads onward, his 
white robe trailing silently on the floor... his feet??? making no 
sound against the silence.
     How did I get here?  I can't remember.  It's all fading so fast.  
Or is it?   How long have I been here?  I can't remember that; there 
are no clocks, and everything is the same.  I don't think  that days 
and nights have any meaning here -- not in these halls.  there is no 
time, no light.  There is no day or night... just doors, chandeliers, 
globes with no light, and black and white.
     I... I wish I could remember.  At least, I wish there was 
something to remember.  Where did I come from?  I just remember that 
there used to be more than black and white.  When I opened my eyes, 
there was more than black and white tile.  More than white doors with 
black knobs.  More than doors every six paces, and every six doors a 
chandelier that shines no light from its six globes.
     Why six?  Does that mean anything?  It used to when I was... when 
I was what?  Where was I when it meant something?  It must be in that 
place where there was more than black and white.
     Step -- step -- step -- step -- step -- step... Doors.  Step -- 
step -- step -- step -- step -- step... Doors.  Step -- step --
step -- step -- step -- step... Doors.
     Doors -- doors -- doors -- doors -- doors -- doors... Chandelier.  
Doors -- doors -- doors -- doors -- doors -- doors... Chandelier.  
Doors -- doors -- doors -- doors -- doors -- doors... Chandelier.  My 
footsteps, why don't they ring out against the tile anymore?  Or... 
did they used to ring out?  I can't remember.  Step -- step -- 
step -- step -- step -- step... Doors.  Doors -- doors -- doors -- 
doors -- doors -- doors... Chandelier...
     Doors, chandeliers.  Doors, chandeliers.  Always the same, always 
black and white.  Step -- step -- step -- step -- step -- step... 
Doors.
     The guide leads on, down another hallway.  More doors, more 
chandeliers.  Always doors, every six paces -- doors.  Every six
doors -- chandelier -- chandelier -- six arms -- six globes -- no 
light.  Black -- white... always.  Are we every going to get there..?  
The guide leads onward.  Doors, chandeliers.  Doors, chandeliers.  
Always the same, always black and white.  Step -- step -- step -- 
step -- step -- step... Doors.  Are we ever going to get there... ???
     "Almost there... " the guide's voice echoes in my mind.
This is how it has always been.  Always doors... doors... doors... 
chandeliers... chandeliers... black -- white -- no day or night...
no light.
     We stop in front of a door.  It is the same as all the others.  
But I see writing on the door.  I puzzle to read it, but it fades from 
my mind too quickly.  But I know... that this is my door.
     The door slowly swings open.  Beyond the door is -- not black and 
white -- something that I may have seen before.  But it's been so long 
since then.  When??  The guide stands by the door, head bowed... white 
robe, always white, black and white.  The guide is still facing away 
from me, as he always has been.  He points at the opened door.
     Slowly, I walk toward the opened door.  From within, I can feel 
that there is light, different from the black and white of these 
halls.  There is more in that light than black and white.  "Where do I 
go from here?"  I wonder as I step toward the opened door.  All that 








I know are these halls, doors, chandeliers.  Is there something else?