by Michael Bloor
(first published in Literally Stories, Nov 5th 2024)
The pub had closed, the last bus still hadn’t arrived, the thin drizzle gave way to rain of biblical ferocity. Jimmy stood sheltering in the entrance to the dress shop, like a novelty dummy, while Willie (his tongue loosened by seven pints of IPA) explained about the likely existence of A Deid Agnostics’ Processing Panel.
‘… Now, I’m nae saying Purgatory was an ideal solution. But at least it was somethin’. Before the Pope abolished it, I mean. Same as Dante’s First Circle of Hell for all they good pagans, like Aristotle and Plato. Nae ideal, but better than nothin’. Nothin’ – that’s what we’ve got now. If ye dinna believe in God, but ye dinna nae believe, if ye reckon there might be an afterlife, but yer nae sure, where ye gonna go? Where ye gonna go when ye pop yer clogs, hand in yer dinner pail, turn yer toes up?’
‘Dunno, Willie, it looks to me…’
‘Precisely, ye dunno. Cos there is nowhere that we know of. But that’s not to say there isn’t somethin’. Stands to reason that there might be somethin’. But of course we can’t know for sure. If we did know for sure, we wouldnae be agnostics, would we?’
‘Eh?’
‘Stands tae reason, Jimmy. Keep up, man. If we knew for certain that there wis an afterlife, we’d be strainin’ every sinew to get into Heaven, straight through them Pearly Gates.
‘Er, yeah.’
‘OK. Now, suppose yer a nice wee agnostic, always doin’ yer grannie’s shoppin’, etc, etc.’
‘Uhuh.’
‘And, all-of-a-sudden, Splatt! Yer a jam sandwich, run over by a fifteen year-old joy-rider on the pedestrian crossing outside the supermarket. Where ye gonna go? Ye were a nice, clean-livin’ agnostic, doin’ a good deed fur yer grannie. Where ye gonna go now? St Peter’s gonna bar the gates: ye werena’ a true believer. But ye were one a’ the good guys, like, er, Plato mebbe – it wouldnae be right tae send ye down tae the fiery furnace. And Purgatory’s been abolished. So where ye gonna go??
‘Mebbe to that First Circle ye mentioned?’
‘Och man, that’s just for pagans. Ye’ll nae be wanting to be spending all eternity wi’ a load a’ Ancient Greeks and Romans. Besides, there’s an awfy lot a’ us agnostics, these days. The whole business needs tae be managed properly, processing a’ the newly dead agnostics quickly an’ efficiently.’
‘So how’s it done?’
‘Well, I reckon they’ll have a kinda Deid Agnostics Processing Panel.’
‘In a central office, like the Job Centre?’
‘Aye, kinda. The panel would have all the info in front of ’em, about yer good deeds, fetchin’ yer grannie’s milk and tatties. And also yer bad deeds, like tellin’ that lassie in Blackpool that ye wis playin’ for the Rangers youth team…’
‘… YE BASTARD. Ye put me up to that when I wis pissed. I reckon ye knew somehow that she wis a Catholic.’
‘How could I possibly know that? Never seen her before. I wis ashamed that any friend o’ mine would so mislead an innocent young woman. Pretendin’ to be a footballer, an’ you wi’ two left feet… Anywye, back tae the Processing Panel…’
‘Who’d be in it? Who’d be the members?’
‘Weel, we’re talkin’ about Eternity here. They’d a’ be agnostics themselves, but ye canna expect ’em to sit on a panel fur ever. Wi’ the numbers o’ agnostics droppin’ deid these days, they’d need tae be sittin’ day an’ night. Where’s the fun in that? So each panelist would only serve a set term of office. And his or her fellow-panelists would select a suitable replacement from one of the recent corpses. Shouldnae be a problem: there’s loads o’ famous agnostics: I googled ’em.’
‘Name a few.’
‘Er, Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, Gene Kelly, Sir Edmund Hillary, er, Fridjof Nansen…’
‘Eh?’
‘He wis a famous Norwegian agnostic..’
‘Nae kiddin’.Who else?’
‘Er, Leonardo DiCaprio…’
‘Leonardo DiCaprio? He’s nae deid!’
‘Aye, well, he could be one of the panel replacements.’
In due course, ye mean?’
‘Aye. In due course. There’s an awfy lot o’ livin agnostics, like him. There’s Sting, Uma Thurman… Andy, the barman at The Black Bull…’
‘Andy? He’s just a sort-of-convenient agnostic cos there’s both Rangers and Celtic supporters drink in there.’
‘Well, that’s him bein’ smart, see? Andy’s a smart guy. So, whadya think? Here’s the bloody bus, about bloody time.’
‘Looks pretty bloody full. What do I think? I think they’re awfy smart, they agnostics, but they cannae mak’ up their minds about anythin”