Milo was seated in the reception room of Nixon Miller Immigration Law. Besides himself the only other person in the room is the receptionist who was doing her nails and chewing gum. The walls were bare except for the firm’s name and credentials embossed behind the receptionist, and a single framed movie poster directly opposite Milo’s seat. The movie was called “The Resurrection Game.” The image showed a stripped out 1960’s bus with blacked out windows. Centre-back is a solid steel framed seat with full body and head restraints. Attached to the frame is a silenced pistol attached to an arm. A starter motor solenoid is attached to the trigger which in turn is connected by wires to a 1970’s computer. There are overflowing ashtrays in places in the few places where there isn’t much blood. Milo read a teaser under the title that said, “your seat awaits”. His pulse starts increasing. He doesn’t understand. He feels like he’s known of this before. He can feel the details. Now he knows there’s sound coming from the poster. It’s getting louder. He realizes that the sound is a single individual screaming at a constant highest possible level of intensity. He looks over at the receptionist for a reality check. She’s still doing her nails. When he turns back to the poster he notices that the two cathode screens in the poster are active. The one on the left is showing a moving graph of spikes with the software title of, “EEG algorithmic translation” displayed at the top. The screen on the right shows a single black and white image being built, a single pixel at a time. Milo now hears the scream at full volume. A man is strapped to the seat naked with a net of EEG sensors over his head. He had been there all along though Milo couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t seen him. Everything inside his body is going at one hundred percent switched on and turned up to eleven. Every muscle in his body is cramped at breaking point. His mouth is open so wide that his jaw bones were cracking. He had screamed for so long and loud that his voice was now breaking apart. Both his eyeballs were bulging and close to popping out His heart is beating like an engine stuck at full revs in neutral. His skin’s turning blistering red. Blood flows out of his eyes, his mouth, ears and his rock hard penis is an overflowing fountain of blood. The EEG reading abruptly stops with the words on screen reading, “Near Death Experience Ends.” At that instant the image stops growing and the computer fires the gun. The bullet goes through the other side of his head and hits a thick chunk of wood positioned on the other side.

“Mr. Hayes.” The receptionist has brought him back to reality. Milo looks back at her. She’s now wearing a motorbike jacket, holding a helmet and throwing a backpack over her shoulder. More time had passed than he had realized. “Mr. Nixon will see you now,” she says, then gives him an odd look as she leaves. He felt like he had just witnessed the worst thing possible, he could barely acknowledge her with a slight nod. He feels like he’s got a bad flu. His clothes are soaked in sweat, clinging to his body. Slowly he rises to his feet. His bones ache and feel as weak as chalk. He almost stumbles as he walks to the door. He takes a deep breath. Takes stock of himself and turns the handle. Milo is shocked to see the same guy from the poster alive and well sitting behind a desk wearing a suit. The well groomed professional jumps to his feet and skirts the desk, hand outreached for a firm manly handshake.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Hayes, I’m Thomas Nixon, I’m a Virginian native, I specialize in American, New Zealand immigration law and my firm is at your disposal.” As they shook hands the lawyer started taking note of Milo’s perspiration. Nixon’s change of demeanor was immediate.

“Please take a seat.” He gestures to Milo. “Please.” Just before Milo’s about to sit he turns back at the door and indicates through the wall with his finger.

“That poster you’ve got in your waiting room.”

“Yes?”

“It seems an unusual choice for a law firm.”

“I suppose you could take that view. ”

“So why do you have it?”

Nixon smiles to himself. “The Price of a Soul. I imagine for someone who didn’t recognize the title.., well I guess some people could conjure up all sorts of horror stories but the poster is actually the front cover of an actual book that was published long ago by William Jennings Bryan who was also at some point was the United States Secretary of State under Woodrow Wilson. It’s a book about being honest and caring for those that you deal with.”

“But that isn’t what it was called. It said the resurrection game.”

“I think before we start, to make sure that both our minds are on topic, I’d appreciate it if you went back out there and had another quick glance at the poster if you would please Mr. Hayes. ” Milo stares back at him for a moment, then gets to his feet. The lawyer opens the door for him. Milo walks out not knowing what to expect. He stands before it once again but this time it’s just as the lawyer described. Milo looks at the six oversized bolts that fasten it to the wall.

“That is the cover of a first edition owned by my great great grandfather. I had it photographed, oversized and framed.” Milo is totally lost for words or answers. “Well, so there it is. An interesting distraction. So let’s go back in, and we’ll have a talk. The lawyer holds the door open for Milo who walks in feeling completely detached from reality. They both take their seats.

“Tell me Mr. Hayes are you feeling okay?” .

“Ah yeah I’m fine.”

“It’s just that you’re sweeting quite excessively.”

“Yes I am at the moment.”

“Are you using amphetamines or P if you may?”

“No, nothing.”

“It’s none of my business I assure you...

No it’s not a problem.

But if your application goes through to being approved, your lifestyle could well be investigated”.

I think it’s just latent heat from the reaction of looking at that poster out there and.., it was so horrific and even though I have never seen you before, It was you I saw in it. You suffered through something truly horrible.”

“How did you find out about this law firm Mr. Hayes? Did you find us on the internet?”

“Yes.”

“Well there’s a picture of myself, my partner and our staff on the page with our phone number. I’m sure that’s how you imagined me in your… well whatever kind of psychotic episode it was that you were having. Look Mr. Hayes, I really can’t see a point to continuing this any longer because there really is nothing I can actually do for you, except maybe direct you to a drying out clinic or mental health professionals at the nearest hospital.”

“No, no you can’t. I’ve talked to all the other immigration lawyers on the phone, they said the same thing. You’re the last lawyer. That’s why I’ve driven four hours to see you. You have to help me. You have to show me a way, and it doesn’t matter how hard or complicated it is, because if I can’t stay here, I might never see my daughter again.” The lawyer smiles to himself begrudgingly and shakes his head.

“Okay, I’ll tell you the one possible chance you have of staying in this country, but somehow, I’m feeling that I will end up with regretting it, but anyway, here it is.”

Next Chapter: 14