Three Tokens
“It doesn’t look so bad, it’s beautiful, in fact,” she smiled.
The blue orb winked up at her, turning gently on its axis, wisps of milky clouds encircling it. The patchwork of blue and green beckoned her closer. This jigsaw puzzle of tranquillity, it could be her home.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine how anyone sent there could proclaim it to be a test of character,” she said, stirring the clouds with her toes, as she spoke.
“Oh but it is, and you’ll find out soon enough,” he said.
Turning his right palm upwards, he uncurled his fingers. An odd array of nic nacs flashed before her eyes, like the secret haphazard contents of a woman’s handbag. A plucked flower, a crumpled dollar bill, a single die, amongst other things. Ten tokens in all, sitting in the palm of his hand.
“You may choose three,” he said.
She looked at him questioningly. She reached out to grasp a token, but withdrew her hand immediately, as if burned. She didn’t know which three to pick. Choosing three meant forgoing eight, a frightening thought, to be sure. She searched his eyes for guidance.
He chuckled good naturedly. “You’re not used to this, I know. I’ve always told you what to do, and when to do it. But you are to be mortal now; and to be mortal, is to be free. Consider this your first taste of freewill. You will have a whole lifetime of this, so you best get used to it now.”
She eyed the tokens uncertainly. He smiled down at her. “It’s your choice.”
Drawn first and foremost to the crumpled dollar bill, she reached out towards it, plucking it tentatively out of his hand. She bit back a smile, knowing for sure, she had made the right choice. Through observations, she had learnt plenty about the power these small rectangles of paper gave to a person.
“You will be rich,” he announced. Just as she’d thought. Stuffing the dollar bill into her pocket, she reached out for the flower.
“You will be beautiful,” he stated.
She smiled. Again, she had learnt plenty about the power of beauty. Reaching out for a third token, the last and final one, she caught a firefly between her cupped hands. The little golden insect buzzed around between her cupped hands, like a feisty shooting star.
“You will be happy,” he said.
“Happy?” she frowned. “Well if I am to be rich and beautiful, what use have I for happiness? It will naturally follow, will it not?”
“That is not for me to say,” he said.
“Right, freewill, I forgot,” she sighed, returning the firefly to its owner. Her hand hovered as she chose the final token once more. “This one,” she muttered to herself. A smooth blood red carnelian rock, carved into the shape of a heart. She looked up at him expectantly.
“You will be loved.”
She smiled with satisfaction. “I think we’re done, here. I’ve made my choice: a dollar bill, a flower and a beating heart. Wealth, beauty and love – I will be the girl who has everything.”
She took another glance at Earth below, unable to contain her excitement. She couldn’t wait to start her new life below. With the snap of his fingers, she saw her entire future flash before her. She stood within the extravagant mansion that was to be her own. Upon its walls were photographs of people who loved her dearly and fiercely – her parents, her siblings, her friends, her husband, her children. Reflected in the cool smooth marble beneath her feet, was her face with its dark deep set eyes and wide white smile – a face undeniably beautiful. She should have been thrilled, for he had more than delivered. But something was terribly amiss.
“I feel awful,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said sadly, regretfully. “But for better or for worse, your will is yours to use. You are free.”
“But that’s just it, I don’t feel free,” she replied, her voice thick and hollow. “I feel lonely and trapped, and I don’t know what’s happening to me, I’m supposed to be the girl who has everything.”
“Pinch yourself,” he instructed.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Just do as I say,” he said. She pinched herself, and felt an unpleasant sensation race up her arm, so unpleasant, in fact, that it made her shudder.
“This is what they call pain. You are of flesh and blood, now. A collection of electrical impulses within a long coil of gelatinous flesh within your skull. You feel now. And you may have all the gifts in the world – the money, the beauty, the love; but it will count for little if you cannot process it, if you cannot feel it.”
She waved her arm to the empty void around her, as if gesturing to a phantom, a ghost that only she could see… And in a way, that was exactly what was happening. “What is this?” she asked in a small voice.
“Depression, my child,” he explained.
“Depression…” she muttered, trying on the word for size. “Well, it isn’t fair, this so-called… depression. It’s as though you’ve given me no tokens at all. What is the point of my wealth, beauty and love, if I cannot enjoy any of them? I feel as though I’ve been handed a $100 to use for a vending machine that doesn’t work.
“My, my, you certainly are well-versed in the everyday life of mortals, aren’t you?” he chuckled.
“I’ve spent a lot of time observing them,” she admitted.
He placed one hand on her shoulder. “You’ve made your choice, you returned the firefly. Too many return the firefly, usually to their utmost regret.” He shrugged apologetically. “But what’s done is done. Everyone has their cross to bear, and this one is yours.”
“Had I known what it would feel like… if I knew what I was getting myself into…” she hesitated.
He smiled kindly, sympathetically. He gestured to the globe below. “Do you think any mortal has known, knows or ever will know what he is getting himself into? No. That is the beauty of it. Free-”
“Freewill, I know,” she interjected morosely.
She looked at the blue orb circling below. It had suddenly lost its glow, its warmth, its beauty, its luster. Now it looked empty and lifeless, a perennially lonely globe spinning pitiably and endlessly in a hollow expanse of pitch black nothingness. She tried shaking her head, she tried smacking it with
the palm of her hand, she tried to force joyous thoughts into her brain, but no amount of tender cajoling or violent force could shake her now flesh-and-blood neurons into compliance.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She shook her head. The world looked sad and ugly and lonely and small, and she no longer wanted to be a part of it. She no longer wanted to be a part of anything. All she wanted to do, was to sleep for a thousand years.
“I know. But you will learn, and you will grow. And when happiness finally comes for you, and it will, the victory will be all the more precious, for it will not have been easy for you to get there.”
And with that, he snapped his fingers, and a hole opened up in the heavens, as she plummeted towards the earth. Soon a newborn babe opened her eyes for the very first time, her lungs filling the air with a piercing cry.
“What are you going to call her?” the nurse asked. The mother stroked in the infant’s damp hair tenderly with her index finger as she spoke.
“Joy.”