Among the many unsolved metaphysical mysteries, the existence of an afterlife and its possible nature has always been one of the most obsessively studied. Both religious and agnostic scholars, from all over the world and from every age, have devoted their lives to answering a simple questions: Is there something beyond our worldly life?
Not only has not been any agreement on this topic, but the different theories also vary wildly in their approach with very few evidence, if any, backing them up. Nevertheless, most philosophical schools of thought seem to agree on several tangential issues. For most of them living things, or at least human beings, have a spiritual component besides a physical a mental one, commonly called a soul. The role of the soul, during and after life on Earth, is not so clear, however.
Other point almost equally ubiquitous seems to be the existence of some sort of metaphysical place of punishment for the souls of those that have sinned. Evidently, there is no such a thing as an universally accepted list of sins. In fact, according to an infamous Victorian book, sinning by itself might not have anything to do with penance. Sarah O’Connor, a not very popular but apparently well-considered medium, devoted her last years of life contacting the spirit of her late brother Seamus, an almost saint-like philanthropist and self-made businessman beloved by his community.
Contacting with her brother was relatively easy for Sarah. Making sense of what he seemed to be experiencing, not so much. He seemed oblivious to his passing away and often believed to be working for an old business partner who had helped him before. The exact nature of his job escaped him when asked, but Seamus seemed to be trapped in his workplace and wasn’t able to recall anything but waking up on his office and some interviews with his employer. He didn’t even remember most of his previous and frequent conversations with his psychic sibling. When asked why he continued working, he always begrudgingly answered he was under contract.
Beyond using her supernatural gift, the medium also investigated her brother’s worldly possessions. In his will he left most of his fortune, lands and valuables to several charities, but she had inherited his relatively humble city apartment. He kept most of her paperwork in his office, perfectly sorted. There was a copy there of every business contract he ever signed, but no sign at first of anything remotely related with his posthumous occupation. Then, one day, Sarah found a secret compartment in her brother’s old desk. Inside the desk there was a simple piece of cheap paper, filled with what unequivocally was Seamus’s handwriting.
The document, although short, carefully set a series of requests. Seamus wanted to establish friends and connections among the political and economic elite, the same he later used to close many deals and grow a small business empire. He also demanded inside information about certain shady businesses—some of which he devoted his life to expose and ruin, saving many labourers from something worryingly similar to slavery. The payment for these services was simple: twenty years working under the other party, at a moment of their choosing. The contract was signed by Sarah’s brother and an yet unknown individual. While the revelation insinuated by the agreement might have casted a shadow of mystery and illicitness over the initial steps in Seamus’s successful career, all the lives he helped improve were for his sister and those that he touched a testament to his good intentions.
If we take Sarah’s work as evidence, there is definitely an afterlife, at least for some individuals. Furthermore, there is also a place or a state of being , that one could easily identify with Hell or the Purgatory, where a soul has to work to pay back its debts. The exact nature of Seamus’s posthumous job and employer, however, are two entirely different mysteries we have yet to solve.
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