She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door.

On the other side the light was heavy with the dust of the universe in its eternal swirl. It took her a moment to remember how long it had been—countless Millenia—since her last assignment. The same one. The same soul.

The penitent was upright, as if standing, suspended in the vacuum. L. took a moment to gather her thoughts and called out: “E.”

E. opened her eyes.

“It’s me. L.” She waited for her recognition. “I’ll be handling your petition, again.”

“Will this time be any different?” E. inquired.

L. had read and reread E.’s book. Her record. The complete story of her life in every detail: Every action, every word, every thought, every feeling. And all the reverberations as they spread out to everyone E. ever knew, everyone she ever came in contact with and—of particular importance in this case—the resulting impact to the nth degree…until this point in time.

“It’s hard to say. Yours is a unique case.”

E. lowered her eyes, “Will I ever be fully cleansed?”

“That’s not mine to determine. My charge is to present the facts as they relate to the covenant.” L. cautioned herself against even the faintest projection of hope.

How many souls have been through this process? L. thought to herself. Since the beginning of time?

So many have passed through and proceeded. Some suspended for eons, suffered desperately, atoned, and were released. L. was aware of only one other case this old but that book was not available to her.

None had been suspended this long. L. wasn’t even sure how long. Had it always been so?

“We will of course present ample evidence of your absolute contrition and the record of your temporal punishment is well documented and irrefutable.” L. gained clarity of purpose in procedural dictum. It counterbalanced her nature.

“Has time ceded?” E. asked.

L. was startled by the question. Time ceded? “No.”

“Then, there has been no final judgment?”

“Judgment will come after we’ve presented our case to the Tribunal.” L., again, resisted the urge to allow even an inflection that could be construed as hope. But Hope was inseparable from L.’s nature—it was her sister—and she wanted to add, “Maybe today your case will be finalized.”

L. was called only to extraordinary assignments. Only her compassion could bear this burden.

“They are ready for us.” L. rose to her station.

When a penitent comes before the Tribunal they are given temporary respite from the vacuum and revert to their former mortal form. It is within this state that they sinned and in this state they are judged.

The Tribunal, the triad, gathered in their purest form: light. Benevolence reigned.

L. begins, “In the case of E., we petition for an indulgence resulting in full cleansing. Her book clearly demonstrates the utmost contrition and an unprecedented level of temporal punishment. We advocate that this record mitigates any remaining requirements and, most respectfully, urge the Tribunal to conclude purification.”

The penitent is then permitted to speak: “One transgression, for which I have since devoted an eternity of contrition and suffered endless punishment. Is there no reprieve for this one transgression?”

Judgment of the Tribunal is swift. “Contrition and suffering are essential but insufficient when there are remaining consequences. Your original sin in the garden still weighs heavy on all souls, both present and future.”

E. closed her eyes in utter despair as she returned to the vacuum.