The lists of names, numbers and locations were delivered to me once per week. Where they came from, I didn’t know, nor was it my place to ask. The information sat there indifferently on my screen.
Every working day at 9:00 a.m., I take a deep breath.
Today was another opportunity to connect with people, to redeem their life. It’s my privilege to call and ask the fortunate people on this list whether or not they have heard the good news. If they hadn’t, I informed them: Jesus has returned, and He will make His arrival unto His kingdom apparent in the not-too-distant future.
I scrolled through the list and waited for a name to jump out at me, as is my custom when choosing who to contact first. After I found someone suitable, I hit call, closed my eyes, and silently prayed while the outgoing tone chimed in my wireless headset.
Dear Lord, I thought. May the receiver of my message please answer me, hear me, and repent. Amen.
A few moments passed, and a voice came to me.
‘Hello, Sylvia speaking.’
‘Good morning, Sylvia. This is Jeremy from the Good News Call Centre. How are you this blessed day?’
‘Oh, fuck off would you!’
The disconnect tone crowed thrice in my ears.
I sighed, said a terse prayer for poor Sylvia, and continued to scroll through the list.
Our office building, a quaint number in the city fitted with grey polyester carpet, fluorescent overheads, and rows upon rows of partitioned cubicles, was pervaded by a sense of melancholic joy. The end of this life was imminent, but another, incomprehensibly more glorious one, awaited us.
It would be wrong to say I took pleasure in my work, for it was often demeaning and rife with abuse, but I knew my mission to be pure. I’m sure the Apostles felt the same.
At 10:00 a.m. I made my second and final coffee for the day. Any more than two begins to feel sinful. While I emptied two heaping teaspoons of Blend 43 into my mug, Gabriel came into the kitchenette.
‘Good morning, Jeremy,’ he said, smiling, with his lips firmly pursed together.
Gabriel’s teeth were yellowed, with large gaps between them, for he drank litres of black tea each day. A humid, sour smell emanated from his gums when he spoke. On top of this, he made constant trips to the bathroom and kitchenette, stopping in on people as he did. This impacted his outgoing calls, although no one else seemed to notice.
‘Gabe,’ I said, mustering a smile. ‘How goes it?’
‘I’m very good, thanks.’
He shuffled next to me and plonked his tea-stained mug on top of the laminate counter, dumping two bags of English Breakfast tea and a tablespoon of sugar inside of it. I could tell he was looking at me from his peripheries, while he used the instant hot water tap. It was obvious he had something to say. He always had something to say. I quickly stirred my coffee and made to leave.
He trapped me when I rinsed the teaspoon.
‘Listen,’ he said, drowning the bags in boiling water. ‘I don’t mean to gossip. I know what Romans one twenty-nine has to say about it. But I really can’t help it, Lord forgive me.’ He made the Sign of the Cross before he continued. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. Of course you have. You got that manager promotion, right?’
‘That’s still pending, actually.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. I assumed you would’ve. You’re sure to hear today, and I bet it’ll be good news.’
His words were earnest, but something unpleasant took root inside of me when Gabriel leaned in closer. I prepared myself for his smell and tried to recall the Serenity Prayer.
‘Anyhow. Apparently… and obviously this isn’t confirmed… but it’s The Rapture.’
I was silent, waiting for some elaboration, but he just stood there, beaming his eroded teeth.
‘What about it, Gabe? Isn’t that why we’re here? It’s not exactly a rumour….’
‘Yes, sorry, of course. What I should say is that, supposedly, we’re getting an exact date today. Sister Jeanette is meant to announce it at lunchtime. Isn’t that fantastic?’
He stared at me. I went quiet. It felt as though someone had announced the death of a fatally ill family member — expected, but shocking, nonetheless.
Sister Jeanette’s office was one of three in our building. Father Wright’s was adjacent, and a third sat vacant. It was formerly occupied by Dave Brogan, the floor manager who had recently been chosen for national operations. His send-off was rather elaborate, given our charitable funding.
All three office doors were open. I approached Sister Jeanette’s and could see she was knelt behind her desk with her elbows atop a chair. Her head was stooped in prayer. The blinds were shut on the only window, but more than a dozen candles were flickering throughout the room.
Hesitating briefly, I knocked on the door frame.
‘One moment,’ she said without moving.
After a while, she crossed herself, stood, and met my eyes across the threshold. Deep shadows danced across her features and accentuated her wrinkles. I was met with the distinct impression that she had been waiting for my visit.
‘Come in, Jeremy.’
I bowed to her before entering.
‘Please,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘You know that’s not necessary.’
‘Forgive me, Sister. It’s just this image before me — your nun’s habit, the icons, the candles — I always feel I should acknowledge it somehow.’
She attempted a smile.
‘I’m sorry for interrupting your prayers. I just wanted to converse quickly before returning to the phones. It’s been another day of poor responses for me, unfortunately.’
‘I imagine this is about the promotion?’
‘Yes, Sister.’
She extended the sleeve of her robe towards the chair opposite her desk and took a seat in her own. I burrowed into the seat, crossing my arms and legs.
‘Let me begin by saying that Father Wright and I appreciate your application. It’s clear you’re ambitious.’ She paused, glanced at the ceiling, and continued. ‘Did you know you were the only person to apply?’
My heart lurched. ‘No, I wasn’t aware of that.’
Sister Jeanette nodded slowly. She leant back in her chair, holding my gaze.
What kind of conspiracy was this? The Lord must have been testing my patience again.
‘I know it wasn’t formerly advertised,’ I continued. ‘But with Dave moving on, I thought I’d get the jump on the process. Make it easier for you and Father Wright, I suppose.’
She clasped her hands over her lap and sighed.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Jeremy. Only your thoughts were of yourself, weren’t they?’
‘Pardon?’
‘I don’t wish to waste any time. Father Wright and I have come to see that you are not pure of heart. You wish to redeem only yourself, not others.’
I managed to scoff even though my neck was tense.
‘Sister, come on. What is this? Part of the trial? How else can I show my righteous intention? I’ve laboured here for months!’ I was suddenly conscious of my rising tone and the open door.
‘I know, Jeremy. But I believe you’ve stuck around only in the hopes of sneaking into Heaven with the rest of us.’
Father Wright appeared in the doorway. I looked at him and wore my concern, but he resisted my silent plea.
‘Father Wright? What the Devil is happening here? What have I done wrong? I’ve called and called and asked for more responsibility and now I’m being punished?’
He closed the door, walked by me to stand next to Sister Jeanette and rested a hand on the back of her chair. There was pity in their eyes, on their skin; I could practically smell it.
‘What am I?’ I said. ‘Some sort of empty vessel? My heart is full, teeming with the Word and the Truth! I’m not like those people out there, out on the streets, clueless and groping about. I’m trying to help them!’
Father Wright’s head slowly drooped like a wilting flower as I spoke.
‘You can’t, Jeremy,’ he said with some effort. ‘You don’t truly love them. You judge them as if you were the Lord himself.’
‘Hah! You’d know about judgment, wouldn’t you, Father? You believe you’re so close to God that the rest of us have begun to look small from your mighty perch.’
My words made him retract. I sensed blood and made to draw more, but Sister Jeanette interjected.
‘Stop, Jeremy! Before you say something difficult to forgive. You’ve confirmed our suspicions. It brings us no pleasure. Believe me…you will be a feature of our prayers. The drive you bought to our operation when you first arrived was truly inspiring, and we thank you for that. But I must ask that you leave.’
I thought I could see a tear escape Father Wright’s eye, but it was difficult to tell behind the sheen of his glasses. He avoided my eyes, which darted back and forth between the miserable pair.
‘I may as well say,’ Sister Jeanette continued. ‘It has been revealed to us the Rapture will occur this evening. We wish you all the best and hope to see you in His Kingdom. But you can’t stay here. I’m sorry.’
Her words fell away along with my stomach through the floor.
†
Jeremy said goodbye to no one. He left everything on his desk and in the metal cabinet below it. It mattered not. For some time, he wandered the city streets in a stupor, bumping into kiosks, walls, and pedestrians and reprimanding each alike.
As dusk approached, he found himself outside his apartment building. He blew past the concierge and took the elevator to the top floor, burst through the emergency exit, and climbed the stairs to the roof.
At the top, he fell prostrate on the concrete and sobbed. He wept for the ocean. He wept for the clouds, the trees and the people, for their pets and ambitions. He wrung his hands above his head and begged for forgiveness, for safe passage, for mercy. But suddenly he stood, wiped his eyes, and walked to the ledge. Below was the earth in its final and most natural state. The sky was beginning to develop a brilliant sanguine glow that rose from the horizon and shone across the sea. A wind had picked up, making the trees below sway like seaweed at the whim of the tide. Lights could be seen flicking on and off in neighbouring buildings, signalling the comings and goings of the fellow naïve.
While his tears welled ever deeper, the sounding of the First Trumpet rang out across the sky. The pedestrians below looked to the Heavens when the first red drops began to fall.