Midweek already! Well here is the continuation of the ghost story. I have removed the name from the ghost in Part 2 because it was awkward. I leave this part off with a clear choice. Which would you pick?"So that brings us to the here and now, is that right?"
The guy, or the ghost standing with us says as I finish my week-long history of being dead. He lets out a long sigh and his eyes trace the horizon where the sun is rising behind hills. He looks down at the boy by my side. "You are free to go and do as you wish young one." He says gently. "You're not tethered to this man."
"He's my dad." Says my son. I beam at them both. The tall blond ghost looks at me and frowns, then back to the boy.
"How do you know that, you only met him after you died, or did he leave out some earlier contact?"
"My mom told me he was my dad and also that I was named after him. She showed me a picture too. She said he was dead, so when I saw him I knew I was too." My son said this then looked up at me with half a smile.
"Well this is highly unusual. That's not a normal thing for a mother to do. I feel like a family counselor right now, and that is not my function." Blond Ghost says, looking agitated. "I don't have time to deal with whether or not this is healthy, but the boy can choose to do as he wishes, even if that is staying with you."
"Well it's fine with me," I nod, then add "better than fine, actually" and smile warmly at the kid. He's already had a rough day, so I don't want him to feel like a tag-along.
The son I never knew I had looks at me like an idea just zinged through him and says "Can we go to all the zoos?"
I look at him for a second then laugh. I can tell he is thinking that cages mean nothing now. "We can go anywhere, anywhere in the world. If you want to see lions we can go to Africa." His eyes light up and he looks at Blond Ghost like I just said "Ice-cream for every meal!"
Blond Ghost is not amused. "Not so fast on the family picnic plans. Ever wonder why your boy and I are the only other ghosts you've seen?"
I had, but not much. I was too busy exploring. "Yes. I figured they got lost in space, or you know...found other things to do than hang out on earth."
"Crude but imaginative. You're half right. What we are is what is left when you have no body and no mind. We are the other dimension of living existence. You can call us souls or ghosts or extra-dimensional projections. All things exist in other dimensions, but humans and other thinking creatures have a thinking presence. That is why you still exist and why you still think and move."
"Well that only leaves a million other questions, thanks. So why are we here and no one else." I say, kind of annoyed at the lofty explanation.
"Because dead people have jobs too."
"Oh wonderful. If there's one thing I miss about living it's my job."
"Sarcasm, it never goes out of style." Blondy says with a sad smile. His angular features and long hair make him look like an elf. I tell him so.
"I might be an elf, if there ever was one. I was born sixty-thousand years ago, and I have seen every major human triumph and failure since then. I'm the undying observer, the watcher, the one who stays here while others will not and cannot. I think that's what elves are in popular fiction sometimes."
"Why do you stay?"
"Because someone has to guide the living into their proper roles as the dead. When no one guides a ghost, they end up like you, or worse."
"Am I doing harm?"
"By interacting with the living, yes. If you ever interact with a living human it can cause them extreme trauma. It is difficult to interact, since we have to shift part of ourselves back into that dimension. It is usually only done with heavy emotion. That's where the barrier between dimensions parts and we always end up doing damage." Blondy gives us both a hard look. He is a good head taller than me, and his elf-features make his lectures feel like he's preparing us to battle mythical creatures.
"Ok, ok, so no emotions around the living." I say and try to keep the sarcasm out. Blondy is looking very grim.
"It is much easier to simply not be around the living. It is infinitely interesting out there, let me assure you." He sweeps his hand toward the sky.
"Can we go to Africa now?" My son asks. He's bored, and looking anywhere but at Blondy, who has him a little spooked.
"You have a choice to make," Blondy says, metering his words out carefully to keep our attention. "Either as individuals, or if the boy wishes to stay with you, as a team."
"You can leave earth. This job is called Explorer. It is what almost every ghost does, and there is a very good system in place to get you started. At the highest levels it involves time-travel."
"Holy shit."
My son giggles as that slips out of my mouth.
"Some believe it is holy shit. That depends on your beliefs, and many ghosts miraculously manage to keep their beliefs after death. Which means it's often a good thing we don't interact much."
"Why? And what are the other options."
"There is only one more role. It will answer both your questions. Ghosts can harm each-other, just as the living can harm each-other. Because the vast majority of ghosts are Explorers, we don't really see other ghosts. The most advanced Explorers, if they wish to, become Guides, like me."
"Ok, what's the job again?"
"This isn't television, this is an ancient ghost explaining the entirety of the afterlife to you, so please be patient!" snaps Blondy. I give my son an "uh-oh" look and he covers up a smile. Blondy has clearly lost his patience with us. He sighs loudly, muttering something in another language.
"Listen well, you two. This might seem funny now, but I give it gravity because it is grave." Blondy realizes his pun and cracks a smile. "I have humor too, we ghosts develop a dark sense of it, no matter which job you pick. I am funny in hundreds of languages. However, It is my job now as a Guide to impress upon you the situation and the seriousness of certain rules. You cannot interact with humans, and you have to fill one of two functions. We elder ghosts have this system because it works. There have been bad times and rebellions among us, but it works well for thousands of years at a time."
"Ok, got it...and behind door number two?"
"If you don't 'got it' you certainly will get it, if and when you step outside the lines of these rules. " He says, and whether it's him doing it or not I get the chills for the first time as a ghost.
"Job two is Ghost Catcher. Ghosts go rogue, or some ghosts who were terrible people remain terrible in the afterlife. They harm humans and other ghosts, and Ghost Catchers stop this from happening. It is clearly the more dangerous of the two, and that's why so few pick it."
"Why, what happens if you get killed, as a ghost?"
"I don't know. No one knows."
"So death is the same even when you're dead."
"Exactly. It helps to think of us as extra-dimensional beings for that purpose." Blondy's attention is visibly fading as well. He looks off toward a clock-tower and back to us.
"Is it easy to die as a ghost?"
"No, in fact it is very difficult. That's why you are called Ghost Catchers and not Ghost Killers."
"Ghost Busters!" I say, and my son and I laugh ourselves to tears while Blondy looks up at the sky. My son sings the theme song all the way through. I sing backup.
Blondy waits for us to sober up before asking. "Which do you choose? Time is running short. I have others to guide."
