"Then he's coming here to the hospice?"
"No. He'll be with me on the other mountain."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want him to know what I'm doing; at least not right away."
"Who is it?"
"I don't want to identify him to you, Sharon. If things work out, you'll understand why."
"I think I already know why. You don't want me to have any preconceptions if and when I do meet him."
"That's part of it. The fact of the matter is that I don't know all that much about him myself. Henry's out in the field now doing a work-up on his background."
"Jonathan, you're not thinking of . . . going away, are you?"
Sharon's tone had become anxious, and it was some time before Pilgrim answered.
"No. Not yet. Please ask the questions, Sharon."
"Jonathan, I don't know where to begin with you. My God, you are the Lazarus Project, and I know you have things to say that you've never even told me. How can I use the standard questionnaire?"
"This is just for the computer model. I'm writing up my own anecdotal report; in fact, I've been working on it for some time. It's kept in a place where you'll easily find it if anything happens to me."
"Jonathan—?"
"Come on, Sharon, let's get to it."
Sharon sighed, and there was the sound of papers being shuffled.
"Name?"
"Pilgrim, Jonathan James."
"Age?"
"Forty-eight."
"Citizenship?"
"American."
"Place of birth?"
"Boston, Massachusetts."
"Parents living?"
"Yes."
"Siblings?"
"One sister, living."
"Education?"
"Undergraduate work at Syracuse, graduate work at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I have a doctorate in mechanical engineering." "Profession?"
"United States Air Force, retired. I'm currently the Director of the Institute for Human Studies." "Religion?" "None."
"Do you believe in a personal god at this time?" "No."
"Did you ever believe in a personal god?"
"As a child, perhaps, but not since my early teens."
"Do you believe in an afterlife at this time?"
"Skip this part, Sharon."
"Jonathan?"
"Please, Sharon. I have my reasons. Anything we don't deal with here will be in my report." "Is your family religious?"
"My parents are lifelong Presbyterians. My sister recently converted to Baha'i."
"Did you have a religious upbringing?" "My parents took me to church every Sunday when I was a child, but I can't say it ever had any real effect. I just never took much interest in religious matters."
"You've suffered what is known as 'clinical death'?" "Yes."
"How long were you in this state?"
"I don't know. I was pronounced DO A at the base hospital, but they revived me in the emergency room about three minutes after I wheeled in. I have no way of knowing how long I was dead before I got to the emergency room."
"What were the circumstances of your death?"
"Plane crash."
"Did you have what you would describe as an 'out-of-body experience'?"
"Yes."
"When were you first aware that you were outside your body?"
"Just before I got to the hospital."
"What were your surroundings?"
"The ambulance was just pulling into the driveway outside the emergency room entrance. I was floating along outside the ambulance, looking in at my body through one of the windows. I was a mess; somehow I knew I was dead."
"You didn't find this a contradiction?"
"No—not at the time. Now I do."
"What was your first reaction?"
"My first reaction was, 'Oh, shit.'"
Both Sharon and Pilgrim laughed.
"You said this aloud?"
"I thought it."
"Were you angry? Afraid?"
"None of those things. It was just 'Oh, shit.'"
"Did you feel any other presence with you?"
"No. I was alone."
"Were you lonely?"
"No, just alone. I felt no real emotion in that state."
"Were you in physical pain?"
"Quite the contrary. I felt great. There was a distinct feeling of sensual physical pleasure. If I had to describe it in words, I'd say it was like the feeling you get after a heavy workout and a shower, or after you'd made love. It was also like being in love with someone in whom you place total confidence and trust. In fact, I remember thinking: 'Death is Love.'"
"That's fascinating, Jonathan. You've never talked about this before. All of the Lazarus People use almost exactly the same words to describe the feeling, but they're never quite sure what they mean by them."
"Mmm."
"What happened then?"
"I didn't want to go into the hospital. I knew—or my body did—that I was dead, and I was doing just fine wherever I was. I suspected that the doctors might try to revive me, and I was afraid of that. I'd lost my eye, and my left hand had been crushed. I knew I'd suffer terribly if they brought me back, and I didn't want that. I was whole where I was, and I wanted to stay that way. So I flew away."
"What were the mechanics of this flight?"
Again Pilgrim laughed.
"You mean, did I flap my arms?"
"Yes, I guess that is what I mean. Did you flap your arms?"
"No. There were no mechanics. To will it was to do it."
"But there was an actual sensation of flight?"
"Definitely."
"What direction did you go in? Up? Down? To the side?"
"I can't answer that, Sharon. Direction is a concept that had no meaning there, so I won't try to assign it a meaning here. I just went away."
"Did you see anything?"
"A huge rectangle of light. I remember thinking that it was a gate; that was the word I assigned to it because I knew there was something on the other side."
"Anything before the gate?"
"Just the color blue . . . a sea of blue. I was at once a part of that sea and something moving through it."
"Did you have any sense of time passing? Can you say how long it took you to get to the light?"
"Time had no meaning."
"All right. What happened then?"
"In the hospital?"
"At the gate of light. Could you see beyond it?"
"No. It was too bright."
"How big was it?" "No meaning."
"Was there anything or anybody in or near the gate? Say, a robed figure?"
"No."
"Voices?" "No."
"Any sound at all?"
"No. There was absolute silence. There's no silence here to compare with it."
"Did you have any feelings at this time?"
"Ecstasy."
"Did you want to go through the gate?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"Did you?"
"No. I returned to the hospital and went back into my body."
"Did you feel hands pushing you, or voices urging you to go back?"
"No. It was a voluntary act."
"If what you were experiencing was so pleasant, why did you choose to return to what you knew would be agony?"
There was a considerable pause before Pilgrim finally answered.
"I was curious."
"Weren't you curious about what might be on the other side of the gate?"
"Yes, but I knew that the gate would always be there waiting for me. On the other hand, I was afraid that I wouldn't have the option of returning once I went through it. Knowing it was there gave me courage. I decided to come back here, at least for a while, and see how things turned out."
"So? How have things 'turned out'?"
"Sharon, I'm still working on the answer to that one—as you well know."
"Yes, I do know. In general, how do you feel now?"
"Well, you're aware of all my medical problems. I have a lot of problems with fatigue. Emotionally, I feel . . . distanced." "Can you expand on what you mean by 'distanced'?"