Dawn. Slow awakening. I rub my face/the face to facilitate the process. I doubt. Pause. The fingers drift over the chin, the cheekbones, the forehead. There is no recognition.
Damn! Soul-switch. So soon! Without notice.
So who am I this time?
I had always thought that once my apprenticeship was over that there would be more stability, more long-term assignments, but now it doesn’t seem to be the case. I feel deceived. As far as I can remember – okay, it was a confusing time and apart from a scattering of experienced Re-carnates, none of us really knew what was happening – we were told quite categorically at Soul Induction that we would be hopping about in and out of living, non-human hosts (the Hindus and Buddhists et al are right after all) for the first five hundred or so years and then grade one through to grade six human hosts for the next. Then after that, those long, long, getting-the-hang-of it/learning-on-the-job years, we could expect to be treated with some sort of respect, get the better jobs – never lower than grade seven, with the occasional grade eleven or even higher; you know the sort of thing, monarchs, saints, peace prize winners. And not short term. Not the Afterlife version of zero hours contracts.
But, here I am, two point six five thousand years after Passing and I’m still being treated like some sort of beginner pauper nobody-at-the-funeral recently deceased schmuck finding myself haphazardly filling in for those more privileged Souls on the sick or taking time off for a holiday. Okay, yeah, at least my hosts are always human nowadays, but some of them are such low-life they wouldn’t recognize a Soul even if it sang Hosanna in the Highest at full volume to them every breakfast time. It’s, heh heh, soul destroying.
I’ve tried to complain but to who? We were told from the start that they (or should it be They?) would initiate all communication, that we wouldn’t be able to make contact but shouldn’t worry because we would all have mentors keeping an eye (so to speak) on us and both spiritual and emotional needs would be monitored and some sort of meeting would be set up if necessary. Depending on my host, I’ve been to all sorts of temple, church, holy place, sanctuary or whatever the place of worship is called and have stood, knelt, bowed, flagellated, sacrificed goats, foot washed, nearly drowned or whatever the local custom is, in order to get a hearing, get across the message. But, hey, guess what? Silencio. Now there’s a surprise.
As we all know, there’s very little one can do to influence a host to intervene on our behalf. Even humans. Although their language is peppered with phrases such as “He has no soul”, “She’s a soulless bastard”, “Don’t tell a soul”, “You gotta have soul”, they don’t really believe, they don’t care. They’ve no idea that inside them they have this amazingly wise, intelligent and creative force they can call upon to make good things happen. No idea whatsoever. They don’t even notice when we Soul-switch. Even if they acknowledge they have a soul they don’t show any curiosity; they don’t wonder where it came from, what or who its previous hosts were, whether it’s just starting off or has millennia of experience behind it. They just can’t be bothered. Fooey!
Well, what can one do? Just make the best of it, I guess.
Now, who’ve we got this time? Hmmmm. They’re referring to me as Mr President. Oh, this could be fun.