The Omega Perspective
Fiction: Meet Lucien Blaze, a billionaire who, from the perspective of his deathbed, finally faces his regrets and realizes what's important. Does a strange homeless man offer him redemption?
“How are we today Mr. Blaze?” Asks the Johannes, my ICU nurse.
“Eh,” is all I reply.
What else can I say?
I’ve just realized the deep truth I’ve been trying to avoid: I’m lying in my deathbed.
I press the button in my right hand that brings sweet oblivion.
* * *
Adrienne laid back next to me and relaxed, placing her hands behind her head. We had spread her grandmother’s quilt under the big oak tree on the hill behind our house. This spot overlooked a scenic valley, and I thought it would make a perfect spot for a spring picnic; Adrienne agreed.
The picnic was the fulfillment of my promise to finally take some time off from my all-consuming work so we could spend a day together.
Philandros, our golden retriever, chased the butterflies that swirled, dove, and soared around us. Their rhythmic arial ballet captivated his canine curiosity, and occasionally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he would jump in the air and try to catch them in his mouth.
Adrienne watched the clouds do their magic dance of transfiguration while she talked and laughed.
After a while, she turned, looked at me — her bright green eyes with the sparkling gold flecks meeting mine — “Why don’t we do this more often, Luke?”
I was, as usual, lost in my head, thinking about work.
* * *
Beep……Beep……Beep.
I open my eyes and my heart sinks. I had been dreaming of her again. Oh, how I wish I could go back to sleep! I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could go back to her. Why didn’t I pay more attention to her? Why did I think work was so much more important than everything else? If only I could tell her!
My waking reality involves tubes, machines, needles, doctors, nurses, and drugs.
I can do nothing anymore except take other people’s time and resources. And dream. I can still dream.
My illness has progressed to the point that, while I’m not in severe pain, I can’t really do anything. I am trapped in this bed and my only escape is into my own mind. And there I find a convoluted mindscape of fantasies and regrets.
I spent my life building companies and amassing billions of dollars. Lucien M. Blaze Holdings, my namesake company, has made me a filthy rich man. I can buy anything I want. Well, almost anything. I can’t buy my way out of this bed. I can’t buy the ability to walk again.
Again I think this is my deathbed.
Johannes notices, “Are you okay, Mr. B? Do you need anything?”
I consider Johannes for a moment. I have several doctors and nurses, but Johannes is the friendliest, my favorite.
“Call me Jo,” he had laughed when he introduced himself, “Only my mom calls me Johannes.”
Suddenly, I have an idea. It’s a long shot, but what else do I have anymore? Who else could I possibly ask?
I motion for Johannes to come close. He leans in and I look deeply into his eyes, my eyes pleading with his from the depths of my soul.
“Jo,” I whisper, “I can’t go on like this. I have nothing left but money. She’s gone. My Adrienne’s gone. Help me.”
Jo stares back at me, silent, for a long time. He understands what I’m asking for. He nods and straightens up. He takes a moment to smooth his rumpled blue scrubs, stalling.
“Now, Mr. B, don’t talk like that, you know I can’t do that. Don’t you worry though, we’re going to take care of you until your condition improves,” he says loudly. Almost too loudly.
Now he’s just parroting hospital policy. Of course. I was a fool to ask. I can’t expect him to lose his job or risk criminal charges for an old fool he hardly knows.
Jo’s checking my vitals now.
I whisper, “We both know my condition isn’t going to improve.”
He stops tapping on his iPad and looks around surreptitiously, then he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “I think I know someone who can help.”
* * *
We sat in the living room by the fire. I was reviewing the company’s latest numbers, Adrienne was reading Pride and Prejudice.
“That was a nice picnic today, Luke. I had fun!”
“Me too,” I muttered.
Why wasn’t the company growing as fast as it should be? I had tried everything I could think of.
“Luke!”
“What, Adri?”
“Did you hear Philandros?”
I looked down, Philandros looked up at me and whimpered, his soulful golden retriever eyes pleading. He nudged his ball toward my feet.
I sighed.
“Luke! Philly wants to play!”
“I’m busy right now, Adri!”
* * *
I wake up with a tear rolling down the side of my face.
Couldn’t I have put those reports away for the weekend? My God! A realization: I should have thrown Philly’s ball, how I would love to play with him one more time! A realization: how I would love to spend a night sipping wine by the fire, talking with Adrienne. A realization: so many moments, squandered. A realization: in that one moment I had everything — all I had needed to do was take hold and grasp it. I hadn’t.
A few days have passed since Jo promised help. Perhaps he had been humoring me.
The door opens.
“Good morning, Mr. B! You have a visitor today!”
A visitor? Who would possibly care enough to visit me?
A man walks in. He’s dirty, his hair looks like it hasn’t been combed in weeks. Has Jo brought a homeless man to see me?
The man walks over to me and looks directly into my eyes. His bright, luminescent blue eyes are kind, but also intense. I feel like he’s gazing deeply into the truth of my soul.
“What do you truly want?” He asks.
“I want to die.”
He shakes his head, “No, that’s what you think you want. What do you truly want?”
As I lie on my deathbed, I think about his question. He’s right. If I want to die, all I have to do is wait. What I truly want is to live.
“I want to live again, with her.”
He nods.
“That’s what I thought. I have the power to grant that. I came so that you may have life. But all magic has a price. I can grant you one day with her, and one day only. What is it worth to you? What will you sacrifice?”
I don’t even need to think about it.
“Everything. My money. My businesses. My life. Take it all. That’s a bargain for the gift of one day of true life.”
He looks deeply at me for a long time: he’s judging the truth of what I had said. Then He nods again.
“Close your eyes,” He commands.
“Don’t you need me to sign something?” I ask, astounded at this dirty, homeless, divine being who seems utterly unconcerned about the billions of dollars I had just agreed to give him.
“I don’t work according to the ways of the world. We have already made our agreement. I trust you, Lucien Blaze.”
I close my eyes.
He lays his hands upon my head, and I feel peace. I feel a warm, loving energy….magic, I guess, and then everything fades to black as I fall asleep.
* * *
I open my eyes and look around in confusion, which soon gives way to elation.
I am in our bed, our home.
The sunshine streams through the window, bringing everything to life with its energetic beams of golden renewal. I hear birds signing outside. It’s the barn-swallows! They visit us every year to raise their chicks. Oh, how they vex us! But, despite our clever attempts to barricade the areas under the eves where they prefer to nest, they outsmart us every time.
I chuckle.
Why do we try to stop them when they provide us with a live choral performance every spring? I lay back enjoying their music.
The smell of bacon wafts into the bedroom.
Philandros jumps onto the bed and starts licking my face.
“Philly! Good boy!” I laugh.
I’m in heaven.
“Breakfast is almost ready, sleepyhead!” she calls, her voice refreshing lemonade for my parched soul.
I’m nervous, I haven’t seen her in years. From my perspective, she died over a decade ago.
I get out of bed under my own power.
I look down in astonishment at my strong, youthful legs; I do a little jig and then break down and cry with joy. I haven’t been able to walk without assistance in years.
“Luke!” she cries from the door, “what’s wrong? Are you okay? You’re crying!”
I look up.
My god! She’s so beautiful!
Everything I’ve wanted and dreamed about for years has coalesced, by the grace of god, into this moment.
“Yes, Adri, I’m fine,” I laugh. “I’m ecstatic!”
I rush over to her and wrap my arms around her.
“I love you so much,” I whisper into her ear.
“Well….okay, I love you too!”
“Now, hurry up, let’s have breakfast. Didn’t you say you needed to do some work today?”
“No, Adri. I changed my mind. No work today. Today is for us. You, me and Philly are going to go on a picnic, how does that sound?”
She smiles at me, and my heart explodes.
“That sounds perfect, Luke!”
* * *
Beep……Beep……Beep.
I open my eyes, back in the hospital after the best day of my entire life.
I look up and He is standing over me. His knowing blue eyes speak volumes and we need no words.
The vagrant reaches out toward me and, for the first time, I notice that the man has round scars on both of his wrists.
Nails.
Astounded, I look into the man’s kind eyes again.
The vagrant smiles and gives me a single nod.
“But, I never believed in you,” I stammer.
He smiles again, “It matters not, truth is truth whether one believes it or not. You may not have believed in me, but I believe in you. It matters not what this truth is called, Lucien. I can easily change my form if this one makes you uncomfortable.”
In the space of three seconds he transforms into a myriad of different faces and deities. I recognize some, but there are countless faces of his deeper truth. He then becomes a pure light of perfect clarity for a moment before reappearing as the homeless man.
“Thank you,” I gasp.
He smiles, reaches out to me, and I grasp his hands. Together we turn toward the perfectly clear light of eternity.
As the hospital around me dissolves, I think again of her, and of Him, and of life’s beauty, and then joy — so much joy —as we are transformed into something more, our identities melting away as we return to the universal mystery — as we return home.
Adrienne is present, Philandros is present, multitudes are present, my past and future identities are here, as are Adri’s, as are everyone’s, and yet, somehow, we are one with all and one with each other, yet also distinct, also continuously evolving, transforming into more, in love, aware of everything, both Alpha and Omega, seeing all, far into the past and the lives we’ve already lived, and billions of years into the future. It is as if each individual life plays a distinct melody on a single instrument in the grander symphony composed by the countless lifetimes each soul experiences, while at the same time, each soul joins the symphony of symphonies vibrating throughout the Cosmos.
My heart energy explodes with excitement as I see the end of the universe, where everything approaches a collapsing singularity, stretching time into a new beginning of a beautiful Infinity.
Our strands of resonate vibration (we’ve long since evolved past physical bodies), Adrienne’s, Philandros’, mine (though we’ve long since transcended those names), and other loved ones’ energy, dancing along The Omega Point’s event horizon, lifetime after lifetime, always special to one another, weaving sublime resonant harmony to the ongoing Cosmic symphony.
And distantly, I recall, that beautiful day, so many millenia ago. Suddenly, I have an idea. Playfully, I send the thought to Adri’s energetic light:
Hey Adrienne, it’s a nice eon, I know a beautiful nebula on the far side of the universe, how about you, me and Philly go for a picnic and enjoy the view for a while?
And while Philandros chases stars being born around us, we laugh.
This short story was written for the Soaring Twenties Social Club (STSC) Symposium. The STSC is a small, exclusive online speakeasy where a dauntless band of raconteurs, writers, artists, philosophers, flaneurs, musicians, idlers, and bohemians share ideas and companionship. Occasionally, STSC members create something around a set theme. This time the theme was “perspective.” If you are a writer, I encourage you to consider joining us, I’ve included details at the bottom of this post. Lastly, you can find all my past symposium pieces by clicking here.
If you’d like to support independent writing online, you can subscribe to the STSC publication here. If you are a writer yourself, I encourage you to join us. You’d be joining a group of like minded compatriots. We have nearly 300 incredible writers & artists in our private Discord group (which will be capped at 300). As an author member, you’d have the opportunity to have your own writing appear on the STSC publication. To become a writing member, simply sign up as a premium subscriber on our founder’s, Thomas J. Bevan, personal Substack by clicking here. Once you do, Tom will send you an invite for our Discord group. Tell him “Clintavo” sent you!