This was published in the early 1990’s in an obscure fiction magazine located in the mid-West. When this was being written, I was in the midst of a Philip K. Dick obsession. I actually compiled a 600 (yes 600) page bibliography on his work and work inspired by him. There is a small amount of autobiographical material included but none of it is included as major events in the story.
THE BACKDOOR OF HEAVEN
by Jason Peterson
PROLOGUE
…and the clown said, “Who are you? Tell me your story.”
“My name is Emmanuel,” I replied.
“And…?” the clown grinned.
“What do you mean? Do you want to know how I got here?”
He nodded his head, “Yes.”
CHAPTER 1: LIFE
I remember sitting on my bed one night, I think it was a Wednesday, my feet warming under a quilt as I stared at a mindless television show. I had turned the bothersome soundtrack off an hour before, replacing it with the cascading roar of intricate drones, tones and white noise of an electronic landscape I’d written and recorded a few days before. The room vibrated in wonderful turmoil; the neighbors be damned.
My wife, Sophie, and I lived in what they called a “Total modern living environment” with all the conveniences of our generation: a gym, a Jacuzzi, cable TV, computerized temperature control, and video security system. We were comfortable but it always reeked of sterility and blandness. I missed a little of the dirt and grime that makes a place home. All forty-two units of these “total living environments” were identical in their unvarying plasticness. The place was dead when we moved in and it killed us before we had a chance to move out.
Sophie was at school that night. She had recently started feeling that it was time to “further her education” and enrolled in an Eastern Philosophy course. At breakfast that morning she pointed out my chakra centers while a malicious grin sprawled itself across her face.
“Those are the energy and sensation centers,” she said, throwing her long auburn hair away from her face with a toss of her head.
“We’re going to work on some basic yoga positions next week. That and the meditation is supposed to really excite the chakras.”
“Well,” I said teasing her, “there’s one that you’d better save exclusively for your husband . . . What’s this teacher’s name again?”
“His name’s Michael Rem . . .” she started quickly and then abruptly stopped.
“You’re evil!” she laughed and picked up her knife and fork to form a cross, thrusting it into my face.
“Evil! EVIL!!” she hissed as if I was a vampire. “You have an evil karma!”
“But,” she whispered secretly, “I’ll make a deal with you.”
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