I died. And I came here. To a place they call Two. They say one out of three people who die come here. Berlin is here. She’s seven. She forgot to take her insulin. Darrel is here. He drowned. Dr. Raleigh is here. He’s the head counselor at the TAF (Two Adjustment Facility) I’m at. He died in an avalanche. Perry Whitcomb is here. I connected with him on Deadbook (Two’s version of Facebook). He was on my soccer team in middle school. He collapsed during one of our games. And get this, Heath Ledger is here. (Yeah, the Joker himself.) He just had a new movie come out.
Anyhow, it’s been a lot to handle, this new world, this second life, but I think I’m starting to come around. I was about to take the bar exam (for the second time) the week after I died. They say I can take it here. They say I can become a public defender just like I’d planned. We’ll see. Sure, I’m starting to adjust, but I still have lots of questions: Why can’t women get pregnant here? Who are this group called “Borns” that no one will talk about? Why do They always seem to know exactly where you are every second of every day? I’m not certain of a lot these days, but I do know one thing for sure: there is a lot more to Two than people are telling…