*3*

As parallax lines disentangled, Bob began to regain his awareness. Engulfed and wrestling with emotions - he spent some time exploring them. Yes, they were there, independent and full. Fear and love, at completely opposite poles. The center of love, the circumference of fear: independent, and yet the result of millions of years of evolution. Not entirely his.

God welcomed him back, Welcome back, Bob. Bob felt the connection to being born, to when he left his mother's womb. God asked him to choose again. First, choose how long you want to live, and how you want to die. Bob confirmed what he had chosen before, sixty-five, Lord, and then let me die without too much drawn-out suffering. Choose if you want a life of authority and power, or one of joy and service. Joy and service. Choose the direction of your cycle. Bob hesitated. He had been around once, then. It didn't matter too much. Bob felt indifferent, but God wanted a choice. The future Bob linked back to him and guided his choice.

He became aware of his own awareness, there, inside the front of his brain, inside his skull. Other parts of his brain signaling - the love of everybody he knew, the love of people from his future. Strange connections, love to places and things he didn't understand. He suddenly realized that, yes, his soul entered into a body. Oh my goodness, did my soul come back into the same body? Just relax and be patient, don't panic, a mental guide said. He recognized that he had a body, limbs, hands, feet, toes. It felt similar to meditation, only done backwards. He opened his eyes. He saw the ceiling. He looked over at the ocean fish poster on the wall. Yes, it was his room. Same body. He closed his eyes again. He breathed in deeply, relaxed.

My goodness, getting in touch again with his body seemed strange. He felt its rhythms, its digestion, its breathing, its blood pumping. He felt a full bladder. Unfortunately, he wasn't in a position to do anything - he wasn't about to attempt standing just yet: he needed a few more minutes to get back in touch. His Grandma's soul tagged him. Hi Grandma. God bless you, and peace be with you, his grandma said. He still felt distinctly severed, an awareness within a brain inside a body. Thank you, God, he said. He opened his eyes.

He rose to go to the bathroom. As the stream of pee arched to the toilet, he watched the yellow liquid flow along its bend. He checked his face in the mirror. Well, it was definitely himself, although he looked as if he'd been sleeping in a washing machine all night. As he walked back into his room, he passed George.

"Hi Bob," George said, part cheerfully, part thankfully, part inquisitively.

Bob glanced at George, nodding his head, poke, poke, hmm, yes, also a reborn soul. He went back into his bedroom to lie down. He turned and looked out the window; the sky, filled with puffy white clouds, giant ivory soft sculptures, with the sky a bright sapphire, so beautiful that it piqued his loneliness to tears.

After about half an hour, Bob could face getting up again. He pulled himself from bed, changed his clothes (he had gone to bed wearing his clothes from work) and returned to the bathroom to peer at himself in the mirror.

Hi, Bob's brain ... Bob said ruefully to the image reflected in the mirror. He brought Bob's brain into the common kitchen; Bob's body needed some nutrition. He touched the souls of his other roommates ... poke ... poke. He grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and headed down the inside stairway to the security door. He opened the door and paused.

The outside molecular air filled his lungs, passing oxygen into his blood, roundabout his body, to all of his cells. Bob inhaled a deep breath of the morning air and stepped down the front stairs. Good thing it was Saturday, the down time from the THC would take a couple of days to blow over. He got reacquainted with the souls of his friends. They were inside a piece of his brain, as clearly as the sidewalk was under his feet, as visible as the trees planted along the median. He probed deeper, to future loves. The future Bob blocked his exploration, schwooped the inquiry from his brain.

He waited for the subway trolley. The Esplanade would be a nice place to go today. He peered down the tracks: the green dot of the trolley looked about a quarter of a mile away. He reviewed what he had learned from last night. Clearly, both God and the Devil were struggling at his soul, both tugging and pulling him apart from within. He had actually stood briefly alone, as an observer, distinct from them both. Who had won the battle? He noticed he could identify their love, both of them, distinctly within his brain. The Devil here, the Lord there. The subway trolley pulled up to the platform. As he got on, and as he put his $1.35 into the change counter, his eyes locked with the driver. Recognition - another reborn soul. He walked back to the middle of the nearly empty trolley, his eyes locking with an older woman. Recognition.

When he returned to work Monday, Barbara pulled back the lifeline, the life-preserver of love that she had fastened to Bob's heart, soul and brain.

"How was your weekend?" Barbara asked. But with the question she sounded Bob's brain, to offload the millisecond review, to validate his rebirth, for Bob to taste the affirmation.

"Okay," Bob replied, catching Barbara's eyes. Recognition.