“I’ve studied this stuff for years, people. And inside of us we each have something called a spirit phone. But most of us don’t know how to use it. The people out there?”

He pointed past us, toward the door leading out to the rest of the world.

“The people out there don’t even know spirit phones exist.”

He shook his head like he felt really sorry for everyone out there, as people around me took notes.

“The problem with our spirit phones is that the signal isn’t switched on. Our loved ones are trying to reach us and we’re missing their calls. They want to tell us what it’s like, so we can stop being afraid. But we’re not answering.”

It felt good to believe that someone knew more than we did. That these experts were just withholding because it was obvious the masses couldn’t take it. That made more sense than believing no one was controlling the boat. And so the boomers, women in bedazzled jeans and wedge sandals, nodded along. They wanted Guy to give them the truth. I watched everyone being taken in by his assurances, but I just couldn’t buy it. I don’t know what I was searching for exactly, but it wasn’t this. This just made me feel sick and desperate.

He said that in order to get our spirit phones working we would have to do the work of getting to a higher astral plane.

“It’s called being tapped in.”

He was getting worked up again.

“When we get to the other side and see all the beauty there is to behold, we’re going to be so overwhelmed we’ll need to take a nap.”

He got those kinds of transmissions from people on the other side all the time, he said. They took a long nap right after they died, because the journey was arduous. While they relaxed on the other side, we were left here alone to manage our grief.

“It’s unfair, isn’t it?” Guy intoned.

“Yeah!” people called back.

“But that will be us soon, and you don’t have to be afraid!”

“Yeah!” people called out again, though less enthusiastically than before.

Someone’s hand shot up in the crowd.

“Yes!” Guy said, pointing at a man in a Tommy Bahama shirt with a faded palm print.

“I died once. My heart went out for four minutes on the operating table. But I didn’t see green pastures. So where am I going?” he asked.

Guy stared at him and shook his head.

“Four minutes. Wow.”

“Where am I going if I didn’t see pastures?”

To hell, I said under my breath. If you didn’t see the green pastures of heaven you were obviously going to hell. A murmur started in the crowd. Guy knew he had to quiet it.