As Abby, Rev, and Diesel debate afterlife plans and heavenly families, the classroom smells like dry marker and old paper.
Posters about “Eternal Questions” and “Big Ideas” peel at the corners. Up front, the whiteboard glows with a single blue sentence:
Afterlife Assignment: Describe a possible personal plan for an afterlife.
Most of the class hunches over laptops and notebooks, pretending to work or secretly scrolling.
Four students sit in a loose circle of desks near the middle: Abby, Evan, Rev, and Diesel. They volunteered to share their plans out loud.
Brave.
Or foolish.
Mr. Hayes raises an eyebrow at them, then moves off to hover over another group.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says.
Abby goes first.
“When my soul gets to heaven,” she says, twisting the silver bracelet on her wrist, “I’m going to hang out with my friends and family. That’s it.”
She can almost see it as she talks: a huge sunlit world where everyone she loves is together again—Mom, Dad, grandparents, a few close friends, pets racing through the grass.
No awkward ex-friends.
No enemies.
No strangers.
“I don’t care about people who aren’t part of my pack,” she continues. “I just want to be back with my mom, my dad, my grandparents, and the friends I still actually get along with. My afterlife is happy families. That’s my plan.”
Rev leans back in his chair, eyebrows up.
“My soul doesn’t work like that,” he says. “In my plan, my soul has been a mom, a dad, a brother, a sister—probably more—over a lot of lifetimes.
“There isn’t just one mom and one dad for my soul. Other souls have had thousands of moms and thousands of dads.
“Every ‘current mom’ has played other roles—maybe a friend, a sister, even a father or some total stranger in another life.”
He taps his pen against his notebook.
“After enough lifetimes, the relationships get all mixed up,” he says. “Intertwined. It turns into this huge web.
“That doesn’t just flatten into a single neat family in heaven.”
Abby folds her arms.
“You don’t understand how these things work,” she says. “My Creator can do anything.
“My Creator gathers the members of his pack in heaven. He has this giant pack, and inside that are smaller family packs.
“He doesn’t let non-pack members in. They didn’t want Him when they had a body, so after death, they go to their own packs in the never-ending bad place.”
Diesel rocks his chair back on two legs.
“So not all souls go to heaven?” he asks. “Do all members of each pack make it? What if a parent or some cousin doesn’t make the cut?”
Abby doesn’t hesitate.
“My Creator works it out,” she says. “In the end, there are only perfect packs of perfect families in heaven—pets included.
“He keeps the family packs together so they’re all happy.”
Diesel snorts.
“Convenient,” he says. “So either a whole family line goes to the good place, or a whole family line and all their friends go to the bad place—as long as the happy families that do get in stay happy.”
Abby glares.
“You’re being way too logical,” she says. “You need to understand how my all-knowing, all-everything Creator—my divine Father—handles things.”
Diesel shrugs.
“Correct,” he says. “I can’t see the sense in your plan. Does your heavenly Father replace your human father?”
Abby goes still.
“That’s a forbidden question,” she says.
Diesel doesn’t drop it.
“Right now,” he says, “around thirty percent of kids are raised without a father. Does their deadbeat dad show up in their heavenly family?
“Do thirty percent of heavenly families have no father?”
“You’re asking meaningless questions,” Abby says sharply.
The circle falls quiet.
The clock ticks above the whiteboard, loud in the pause.
Secrets about heaven and family hang in the air, suddenly heavier than the assignment on the board.
As Evan explains soul evolution, free will, and equal potential to the group, Mr. Hayes swings by, glances at their notebooks, and nods toward Evan.
“Your turn,” he says.
Evan clears his throat.
“My plan is different,” he says. “All souls start with the same potential and face the same cosmic laws.”
He taps his pen, thinking about how to put it.
“Imagine oak tree seeds,” he says. “They all look about the same. They all respond to the same laws—sun, water, gravity.
“But the trees grow differently depending on their environment, not because there was something unequal about the seeds.
“Souls work like that. Souls become different because of free-will choices, not because they’re created unequal.”
Diesel raises his hand halfway, like they’re in debate club.
“Hold on,” he says. “I’m born poor. My friend was born into a rich family. That’s not the same potential.
“Environment and DNA shape our personality, our choices, our lifestyle—everything.”
Evan nods.
“True,” he says. “That’s just for this one lifetime.
“In my plan, your DNA this time is shaped by your soul’s previous choices and experiences.”
Diesel frowns.
“I want to blame everything on my parents and how I was raised,” he says. “If you say it’s my soul’s past choices, that dumps the responsibility on me now—to make the right choices for my next lifetime.
“I want to be able to do whatever I want without it touching my future.
“I get more freedom if I assume there is no ‘future me.’”
Rev jumps in.
“Blaming others for who you are now,” he says, “is a classic way to dodge responsibility.
“A lot of disadvantaged people are facing consequences because their past selves ignored consequences.
“Doing whatever you want now drops everything on the future you, whether you admit that future exists or not.”
Evan nods toward Abby.
“In Abby’s plan,” he says, “her Creator makes every soul different from the start.
“So in the end, everything can be blamed on how her Creator chose to make each soul.
“In my plan, my Creator gives all souls equal potential, with huge room to evolve and become powerful, caring beings.”
Abby lifts her chin.
“My Creator made me the way I am,” she says. “That’s the cause. All souls are made in my Creator’s image and likeness.”
“Your Creator gave you free choice to expand that,” Evan says. “Equality is everyone entering the test with the same starting tools.
“How can you say a child dying in famine, a blind baby, and a rich politician’s son are all created equal in your plan?”
Abby answers without blinking.
“Each one has strengths and weaknesses meant to balance out,” she says. “Each has something specific they’re supposed to learn or overcome.”
“Exactly,” Evan says. “Their body and environment are temporary tools to learn certain virtues in that lifetime.
“The soul is the artist. Each life is a new painting, using certain colors, certain virtues, certain experiences.
“It takes many lives to learn all the colors.”
Rev pulls a face.
“Since when am I supposed to care about a billion souls?” he asks. “I can barely handle my family and a few friends. My parents aren’t thrilled with my grades. My girlfriend hates my bad habits. My friends mostly care about having fun.
“They’re not exactly helping me ‘master my soul.’”
The question hangs there, quiet and real.
Evan uses Spenders, Borrowers, Lenders, and Savers to explain choices as he continues building his theory. “Okay,” Evan says. “Let’s talk money.”
He leans forward, eyes brighter.
“Picture four types of people: Spenders, Borrowers, Lenders, and Savers.
“They all get the same amount of money before going into a mall.
“Same starting point.
“But they use it differently. Their choices create different consequences—even though they started equal.”
Diesel grins.
“Instead of talking about it,” he says, “just give me the money. I’ll handle the shopping spree. I’m great at spending.”
A kid playing Spender in their group skit jumps in, taking the role seriously.
“I’ve got extra money,” Spender says. “I’m buying new clothes and gadgets. I’m hitting the arcade. I’m doing whatever I want to be happy.”
Evan narrates.
“Spenders strut out of stores with bags on both arms,” he says. “No money left, but a ton of stuff.”
Spender lifts an invisible shirt.
“Check out my T-shirt,” they brag. “Latest brand. Red circle logo front and back.
“It cost seventy-five on sale. Last week it was a hundred.
“I saved twenty-five.”
Rev snorts.
“You didn’t save twenty-five,” he says. “You spent seventy-five on a five-dollar shirt. Wait six months, and it’ll be in the clearance bin.”
Spender shrugs.
“I’m addicted to buying nice things,” they say. “That’s why I juggle three part-time jobs.
“Why does everything I want cost so much?
“Yeah, it would be more logical to want cheap stuff—but I want what I want.
“Having new things makes me feel worthy. Special.
“I feel miserable when other people have better stuff.
“And when the money runs out?” They grin. “I borrow from people who don’t know how to spend theirs.”
“Spenders often become Borrowers,” Evan says. “They start relying on other people’s savings.”
The student playing Lender speaks.
“I have extra money,” Lender says. “I loaned it to Spenders. I already have what I need.
“I’d rather invest and collect interest. That’s money I don’t lift a finger for.
“I control my spending to have more freedom later. Borrowers have to work harder to pay interest. Their paychecks vanish. They stay stuck.”
The student playing Borrower slouches.
“I’m a free spirit,” Borrower says. “I know how to satisfy my wants right now.
“I might lack patience, but I’ve mastered getting people to lend me money so I can spend it.
“I love the magic of trading paper for real things.”
Diesel laughs.
“I just discovered I can borrow more money to pay the interest on my debts,” he jokes.
Later, as the scene jumps forward, Borrower’s expression changes.
“It’s unfair that I have to work so hard while others have more,” they complain. “These payments enslave me.
“I’m paying off clothes that went out of style and gadgets that already broke.
“My happiness hit was short. The debt is long.”
“Borrowers can slip into crime,” Evan says quietly. “Stealing to keep up. They carry debt into their next life and still blame everyone else.”
The student playing Saver finally speaks.
“I don’t spend anything in the mall,” Saver says. “I just watch people and look at new stuff.
“I reuse what Spenders throw away. I’ve learned how to be happy without constantly buying.
“I limit my freedom now so I can have more real freedom later.
“My clothes are old, but I have money.
“I gather what others dump and sell it to Borrowers who are low on cash.
“And I have enough extra to help people in real need.”
Rev nods slowly.
“So Savers focus on controlling their wants,” he says, “instead of doing whatever they feel like.”
Evan leans back.
“Choices stack up,” he says. “Their consequences multiply across thousands of lifetimes.
“That’s what shapes a soul’s level of caring, ability, and power—not parents or one environment.
“You don’t start every life from zero. You bring forward debts you haven’t repaid.
“You also bring forward strengths you earned.”
Diesel rubs his temples.
“I get it,” he says. “I don’t like it. I’ll probably forget it.
“But I see your point about souls having multiple bodies.
“There’s still no proof I existed before this body or will exist after.”
Evan shrugs.
“The way humans are all so different is the proof,” he says. “We see effects—differences in ability, desire, and character.
“Effects come from causes.
“Somewhere, free will sets those causes in motion.”
Across the room, a group bursts into laughter over a meme.
At this table, the conversation only gets heavier.
Evan challenges the group on soul-caring and earthly distractions, pushing them to think past their own lifetimes as he turns to Rev.
“Do you care about your parents’ and friends’ souls?” he asks.
Rev hesitates.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” he says. “I figure they’ll die, reincarnate, and deal with their own karma.
“I mostly care about not making mine worse.
“Nobody talks about after-soul skills or ‘soul-caring’ abilities.”
“Unfortunately, I agree,” Evan says.
He leans forward.
“Imagine an enemy invades a country,” he says. “Every little town only cares about itself.
“No one cares about the next town over.
“The enemy just conquers them one by one.
“If they ever stand together as one country, they can finally push back.”
Rev blinks.
“You jumped from soul-caring to invading armies,” he says. “Did I miss a bridge?
“If an enemy invades,” he adds, “then in my system, it’s their karma. They surrender, adjust, reincarnate later, and maybe retaliate.
“It just loops.”
“There’s no soul-caring in that cycle,” Evan says. “Just revenge.”
Rev shrugs.
“Obviously,” he says. “That’s why there’s so much war.
“Everyone gets fresh chances to hit each other back.
“Karma stays…interesting.”
“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be,” Evan says quietly.
Diesel leans in.
“Says who?” he asks. “This mess has been happening forever. You want to change the system now?
“Are we talking about our assignment or the real world?”
“Both,” Evan says. “We should be designing a plan that actually fixes what’s wrong now.
Humans get obsessed with specific things and ignore everything else.
“One person only loves football. Another only loves golf.
“They argue endlessly.
“Football people say golf is slow and boring. Golf people say football is violent and wrecks bodies.”
He scans their faces.
“All these niche obsessions,” he says, “pull attention away from the state of the soul.”
Diesel crosses his arms.
“I have the right to like what I like,” he says. “I don’t need a reason.
“I like football. I hate golf.
“Football makes me happy. Golf puts me to sleep.
“That’s just me.”
Abby jumps in.
“Are you saying being interested in anything earthly,” she asks Evan, “is basically a sin?”
“No,” Evan says. “I’m asking: are you on Earth to watch men chase balls—or to prepare for an eternal afterlife?”
Diesel rolls his eyes.
“Choosing interests is part of free will,” he says. “Why attack that?
“What sports I watch is like what foods I eat or what books I read.
“It’s just a choice.”
Rev nods.
“Each life, I have different interests,” he says. “Last life, maybe I’m obsessed with football. This time I might like golf.
“Does it really matter?
“I’ll eventually try everything.”
Evan throws up his hands.
“What did I say,” he asks, “to get you all on the same side against me?”
Abby shakes her head.
“You make it sound like everything everyone does is wrong,” she says.
Diesel adds, “You want to suck all the fun out of life.”
Rev adds, “You want to delete all the variety.”
“That’s not it,” Evan says. “My point is: being constantly distracted by sensory experiences keeps souls from expanding their caring.
“If all souls are the Creator’s children, that makes them all your brothers and sisters.
“Ideally, you learn to care about everyone equally.
“Serious soul-students start by caring for those who prove worthy of sponsorship. Just caring about your small pack is selfish.
“If we’re all going to the same afterlife, shouldn’t we help each other actually make it?”
Diesel groans.
“I’m not going to care about a billion souls,” he says.
Abby shrugs.
“I wasn’t built to care that wide,” she says. “That’s my Creator’s job.”
“Not in your own plan,” Evan says. “You said your Creator only cares about his chosen pack.
“The rest of the souls are…garbage to be thrown away.”
Rev winces.
“Soul-caring is a weird concept,” he admits. “In your plan, souls grow into powerful, caring beings.
“In my plan, souls just collect experiences while trying to have non-harmful fun.
“Your version is…better than mine.”
Diesel tilts his head.
“I kind of like it,” he says. “But in my plan, I gave my soul free will to chase happiness.
“Trying to become some high-level being would wreck my whole pleasure map.”
Abby’s voice softens.
“I like it too,” she says. “In your plan, souls really evolve into the Creator’s image and likeness.
“They learn to carry hope for so many souls, to hold all that sorrow and disappointment, and keep helping anyway.
“That takes insane discipline and mastery.
“In my plan, my Creator is all-everything—but He still rejects the souls who disappoint Him.
“You’re saying many of your souls become as great as my one Creator.
“You’re describing a Creator who cares so deeply He keeps helping souls across many lifetimes, no matter how many times they mess up.”
“The assignment,” Evan says, “is to design a plan that truly benefits souls.
“Parenting and relationships are training grounds for universal soul-caring.
“The number of souls a being genuinely cares about measures its evolution.
“The ability to actually help them measures it too.
“Imagine evolving into a being who cares about all the souls on the planet.
“That being would have enough mastery to hold a spiritual balance for every soul who asks and allows help.”
Diesel lifts a shoulder.
“In my plan,” he says, “souls disappear after one life.
“So the best thing is for them to enjoy themselves while they can.”
Rev nods.
“In mine,” he says, “souls get to try everything.
“That’s the point.”
Abby adds, “In mine, some souls reach a heavenly world—but not all. I didn’t want it to be too easy.”
Their different heavens hang in the space between them, clashing and overlapping.
None of them looks simple anymore.
Evan describes a soul-school guided by a caring Creator as the period comes to an end. The warning bell buzzes softly overhead. They have a few minutes left.
“In my plan,” Evan says, “my Creator makes souls equal, gives them free will, and doesn’t walk away.
“He keeps holding hope for each soul.
“He lays out a lighted path with guardrails.
“He provides teachers to instruct them, counselors to inspire them, warriors to protect them.
“It takes many lifetimes to build the discipline, wisdom, virtue, and power to care for a billion souls.
“So he sets up a soul-school with master teachers to help unlock that potential.”
Diesel raises an eyebrow.
“That sounds like a dictator training an army,” he says.
Abby shrugs.
“My Creator already does that,” she says. “Obey or be punished.”
Rev looks at Evan.
“Why so much staff?” he asks. “Why not just let karma teach?
“When people hurt others, they suffer consequences. They eventually learn not to hurt.”
“My Creator wants to help,” Evan says. “But he won’t force help on anyone.
“The soul has to want it.
“They have to choose to attend soul-school and actually study.
“They have to sacrifice some of their obsession with pleasure and distractions.
“They’re free to wander off the path. My Creator doesn’t drag them back.
“But if they turn and ask for help, He runs to meet them.”
Rev’s eyes drop to his notebook, where his own afterlife plan looks flatter than it did an hour ago.
Evan explains how parental hope holds a spiritual balance for souls as the school day wraps up. The hallway outside swells with end-of-day noise—lockers slamming, voices rising—but their little circle stays locked in.
Evan flips his notebook closed.
“Imagine you have four kids,” he says, “and you truly care about their souls.
“You care about whether they eventually graduate from soul-school.
“That’s real selflessness.
“There’s joy and sorrow in soul-caring. The more expectations you have, the more you can be disappointed.
“The more assumptions you make, the more you’ll be wrong.
“But the more pure hope you hold, the more light you give them to follow.”
He speaks more slowly now, choosing each word.
“Hope holds a balance for someone,” he says. “It’s like laying out a bright path with railings and solid ground.
“Hope doesn’t walk the path for them.
“It doesn’t stop them from leaving.
“It’s like stacking self-help books in their room.
“They still have to read and use them.
“Hope is living as an example—a safe, warm home, loving parents, a healthy soul-journey they can see.”
He taps his pen against the desk.
“Parents’ hope,” he continues, “is like an unselfish version of parental will.
Ideally, they hope for what’s best for the soul, not just what makes the child or themselves comfortable.
“They’ve had more lifetimes, more chances to learn.
“They’re supposed to be better at sensing what’s best for their kid’s soul.”
He hesitates.
“Unfortunately,” he adds, “a lot of parents fail to show that path. They don’t hold that balance.”
For a moment, the whole classroom seems to hush.
Even the kids at other tables, half-listening, feel something true hanging in the air.
Mr. Hayes glances over, wipes part of the whiteboard clean, and lets them keep talking.
On the board, the words Afterlife Assignment smear into a blue shadow.
At their table, four different afterlife plans collide—Abby’s packs, Rev’s cycles, Diesel’s one-shot freedom, Evan’s soul-school.
None of them fully wins.
But something underneath all of them—choice, consequence, hope, and the terrifying idea of caring for more than just yourself—refuses to go away.
When the final bell rings, chairs scrape back and bags zip.
Their conversation isn’t finished.
Evan stands in a crowded hallway handing out fliers for a new club titled "Afterlife Options," drawing in a small group of classmates—Diesel, Abby, and Rev—into an empty classroom to discuss what happens to the soul after death. While Diesel assumes he will simply vanish and Abby insists on an automatic, grace-based paradise where a Savior pays all debts, Evan explains that planning for an eternity of millions of years is far more crucial than planning for a standard retirement. He introduces the fundamental paths of the soul—Dissolve, Revolve, or Evolve—explaining that souls who fail to store virtuous energy disintegrate, while revolving souls remain stuck on the wheel of karma in "karmic school" until they actively choose "soul school" to master Holy Spirit energy. The group debates the nature of energy as earning, saving, and spending money, and critiques the illusion that one can rely on an external Savior to permanently carry unwashed karmic debt without personal accountability.
In a high school classroom, Abby, Evan, Rev, and Diesel share their personal "afterlife assignment" plans with each other, leading to a profound debate about free will, soul evolution, and family structures in the hereafter. Abby envisions a sunny heaven consisting exclusively of her personal "pack" of family and friends, while Rev argues that thousands of lifetimes across many bodies create an intertwined web of relationships that cannot be flattened into a single neat family. Evan introduces the concept of soul evolution, arguing that all souls enter the cosmic test with equal potential but diverge based on free-will choices, comparing life choices to Spenders, Borrowers, Lenders, and Savers. The group wrestles with the weight of karma, the illusion of fatalism, and whether souls are meant to evolve into caring beings who eventually encompass all of humanity in their scope of love.
Equal Potential vs. Unequal Environments: All souls enter the classroom of Earth with equal potential, shaped by equal cosmic laws; differences in initial DNA, wealth, and environment are temporary tools used by the soul (the artist) to learn specific virtues across multiple lifetimes.
The Economic Metaphor of Soul Choices: Energy and karma operate like money through the stages of get, have, and spend, categorizing human choices into Spenders, Borrowers, Lenders, and Savers whose habits multiply across thousands of lifetimes.
The Flaw of Exclusive Family Heavens: Assuming heaven consists only of one's immediate human "pack" ignores the reality of multi-incarnational webs where parents, children, and strangers switch roles across countless lifetimes.
Universal Soul-Caring: True spiritual evolution requires expanding one's capacity to care beyond a small, selfish group, ultimately growing into a state of universal stewardship where one holds hope and balance for all souls.
Evan: The discussion leader who presents the concept of equal soul potential, multi-lifetime evolution, and the economic framework of choices (Spenders, Borrowers, Lenders, Savers).
Abby: A student clinging to a traditional, exclusive view of heaven composed of her personal family pack, pets, and dogmatic salvation.
Rev: A classmate who analyzes the web of multi-incarnational relationships, rejecting the flat, single-lifetime family model.
Diesel: A skeptical classmate who resists personal responsibility, questions the fairness of environment versus free will, and jokes about spending and borrowing systems.