As the assembly begins, the Secretary of Souls explains self-mastery to Rev and Diesel, outlining how human choices dictate the afterlife. The auditorium lights dim.
On the stage, the Secretary of Souls—SOS—steps up to the mic. Her eyes sweep over rows of teenagers shifting in their seats.
“It’s hard,” she begins, “to understand exactly what your soul looks like in the afterlife. But it’s more important to understand this:
“What you do now shapes what your soul can do later.”
She lets that sink in.
“Your soul is an independent, creative being. Free will is your gift. But it is also your responsibility.
“If you sit back and wait for others to grow your soul for you, you’re going to be very disappointed on the other side.
“Souls who refuse self‑mastery repeat Soul School until they develop the wisdom, virtues, and powers needed to function as independent creators without a body.”
Rev raises a hand.
“So what?” he says. “There’s plenty of time, right? I can come back in another lifetime. Meanwhile, I’m going to enjoy having a human body while I’ve got one.”
Diesel leans back, smirking.
“Self‑mastery takes forever,” he says. “It’s too much trouble. Adults always act like their job is to make life harder for teenagers.”
A restless energy builds in the room. Someone starts a chant.
“Stop pushing us!” a voice yells.
More join in.
“Stop pushing us!”
Then:
“We don’t want to be wise!”
“We don’t want to be virtuous!”
“We don’t want to be powerful now!”
They stumble over the next line.
“We want to be foolish, corrupt, and weak! We want to be stupid, immoral, and—”
There’s an awkward pause.
Heads turn.
Brows furrow.
Someone blurts, “Wait a second.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
Another voice calls, louder this time:
“We actually don’t want to be stupid!”
“Yeah!” someone else shouts. “We want to be smart, not dumb.”
“We want to be good, not rotten.”
“We want to be empowered, not helpless, when we die.”
The chant flips.
“We want self‑mastery!”
“We don’t want to end up like foolish, corrupt, weak adults!”
A unified question rises from the student body.
“How do we become independent, powerful souls?”
The room goes quiet again.
SOS smiles.
The hook is in.
As the rules of the afterlife are laid out, the Secretary of Souls discusses the virtues sash and mystic body with Diesel, Rev, and Abby. “At the start of each school year,” SOS announces, “every student receives a virtues sash.
“On it, there are twenty‑four spaces—one for each basic virtue. Teachers award badges to students who consistently demonstrate mastery in a particular virtue. Not once. Not twice. Consistently.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd.
Diesel raises his voice.
“I want the freedom,” he says, “to invent my own set of ‘diverse perversions.’ I don’t like being restricted by someone else’s list.”
SOS doesn’t flinch.
“Souls who refuse to master even the twenty‑four basic virtues,” she says, “do not graduate from Soul School. They return in another body.
“Some rebellious souls wait ten thousand years before being assigned another life.”
Rev’s eyes widen.
“Ten thousand years,” he echoes. “What do we even do without a body for that long?”
SOS’s tone hardens.
“Many souls who lack wisdom, virtue, and ability get stuck as powerless ghosts,” she explains. “Addictions, attachments, grudges—they don’t die with your body.
“They lodge in the soul. Without a body to act through, you can’t satisfy them—or fully heal them.
“Those souls drift in a hellish limbo—no real pleasure. No progress. Just hunger and pain they can’t resolve.
“Souls who show a genuine drive for self‑mastery are given priority over the rebellious ones. They move on faster.”
Diesel shrugs.
“I don’t plan on coming back,” he says. “But if I did, I’d just steal another body.
“I’m not sitting around for ten thousand years as a useless ghost. I’ll become a demon. Take possession of anyone I want.”
A chill passes through the room.
Some students exchange nervous glances.
The chant flips again.
“We don’t want to wait!” someone shouts.
“We claim the right to pick our next body!” another yells.
The frenzy builds.
“We want to be demons from hell—”
They stop mid‑chant.
“Nope,” a voice says quickly. “That’s not what we want.”
Laughter breaks the tension.
“We want wisdom,” they correct. “We want virtues. Mystic skills.
“We want to be powerful, creative souls, not stuck in some ghost‑queue.
“What do we have to do so we don’t have to come back in another body?”
SOS waits until the noise dies.
Then she answers.
“You must create a mystic body for your soul,” she says. “A body made of light for the mystic world.
“If you don’t, you have nothing stable to inhabit between lives. You wait until another physical body is assigned.”
Abby raises her hand, face intent.
“That’s confusing,” she says. “I believe I get one physical body. It rises from the dead and reunites with my perfected soul.”
Her voice grows more certain as she continues.
“I don’t need to struggle to be wise, virtuous, or powerful. Wishing is easier. My Creator can do anything I want Him to do.
“I want a mansion. I want to live happily ever after while the non‑Believers suffer forever.”
SOS exhales slowly.
“Unfortunately,” she says, “about half the population blindly believes that fairy tale.”
The students murmur uneasily.
One speaks for them all.
“We don’t want to be mindless zombies,” a girl calls. “If we do need a mystic body, how do we build one?”
Continuing the lesson on spiritual form, the Secretary of Souls teaches about the solar body while Rev and Abby ask about badges representing wisdom and blind beliefs. “Your mystic body,” SOS says, “is sometimes called the solar body.
“It is woven from strands of wise, virtuous energy. Imagine a radiant garment of light around your soul—like an upgraded aura.
“Your independent mystic consciousness needs a container. A place to hold your identity, wisdom, and stored virtuous energy.
“As your soul evolves, this garment expands and strengthens.”
Rev raises a tentative hand.
“I like the virtue badges,” he says. “Could we also have wisdom medals?”
A ripple of interested laughter.
SOS nods.
“The Soul Student’s sash,” she says, “can include:
• Twenty‑four spaces for virtues.
• Twelve spaces for wisdom.
• Nine spaces for holy‑spirit superpowers.
“The sash is part of the school uniform.
“Those who aren’t interested in their soul’s health, wealth, and power can wear a blank sash with the school emblem. A silent declaration that they’re choosing not to care.”
Abby lifts her chin.
“Absolvers,” she says, “want a special sash with belief badges instead of virtues. Ten, to be exact.”
She starts to list them, voice steady, as if reciting a creed.
“1. I get one body and two afterlife options. I believe my body and soul go to Heaven, and non-believers are tortured forever.
“2. I don’t need a mystic garment. My soul never changes, no matter what I do on Earth.
“3. The Savior is the motherless Son of the Divine Father. They can do anything and does not need my help.
“4. The Savior is not my big Brother. I cannot develop superpowers like Him.
“5. I am adopted and cannot be wise like my Savior.
“6. I am a miserable, worthless sinner—but I fully expect my Savior to make me perfect.
“7. Blind belief overrules any need to master wisdom, virtue, or mystic power.
“8. I expect my good friend, the Savior, to magically erase my mistakes and indulgences.
“9. My Conscience is not always trustworthy. It must be recalibrated to match the one big Book of Answers.
“10. The Creator controls everything. He employs the Tempters to test my obedience to His desires.”
SOS listens.
Then she speaks carefully.
“That,” she says, “is a long list of fantasy wishes.
“Believers are welcome to display a sash of blind beliefs—so others can avoid trusting their judgment on what’s wise for the soul.”
The room shifts uneasily.
Diesel raises his hand again.
“What about students who are proud of their perversions?” he asks. “Can we design our own multicolored sash and badges?”
SOS doesn’t hesitate.
“The Rebels’ sash,” she says, “could have ten spaces for addictions and attachments, and nine for dark‑magic powers.”
Diesel’s eyes light up.
“I’ll start a list,” he says.
Taking a defiant stance, Diesel designs the Rebel sash, and the Secretary of Souls explains how choices shape the solar body into a permanent mystic garment. Diesel steps closer to the mic, half joking, half dead serious.
“Rebel badges,” he announces. “Ten options.”
He counts them off on his fingers.
“1. I get one body and no afterlife options. I claim the right to drug, poison, and abuse my body.
“2. Ignorance is a valid excuse.
“3. My addictions are my choice.
“4. Lying is easier than being honest.
“5. I expect other people to compromise their values so my lifestyle stays comfortable.
“6. A prideful human ego is necessary to survive today.
“7. I expect a participation trophy for every course I enroll in.
“8. Nothing is my fault. Everything is the result of random, unknowable forces.”
He grins.
“We could reserve two more spaces,” he adds, “for whatever new excuses we invent.”
Nervous laughter breaks out.
Then Diesel switches tracks.
“And for dark magic powers,” he says, “we’d have another set of badges. Like—”
He starts listing again.
“1. The power to intimidate anyone who restricts my freedom.
“2. Mastery in cursing and hexing my chosen enemies.
“3. Skill in using anger and outrage to get my way.
“4. The ability to design and execute revenge.
“5. The guts to boldly abuse others and grab whatever I want.
“6. The right to criticize and condemn anyone I disagree with.”
He pauses, letting the implications hang.
No one is laughing now.
SOS walks back to the center of the stage.
“Every sash you choose to wear,” she says quietly, “tells the truth about who you’re becoming.
“Virtue badges. Wisdom medals—superpowers of the holy spirit.
“Or belief badges, addiction badges, and dark‑magic pins.
“You may think these are just metaphors now.
“But in the mystic world—” she looks around, “—they harden into your actual garment.
“Your solar body is stitched from the choices you repeat.
“You won’t be able to fake it when this life ends.”
The room goes still.
No chant.
No jokes.
Just one question, quietly rising in everyone’s mind:
What kind of sash am I really weaving right now?
And how long am I willing to wear it?
During an assembly, the Secretary of Souls (SOS) explains to Rev, Diesel, and the student body that human choices actively shape the afterlife, introducing the concept of a "virtues sash" with twenty-four spaces for basic virtues, twelve for wisdom, and nine for holy-spirit superpowers. When Diesel and Abby attempt to propose alternative sashes based on rebellion, perversion, and blind belief lists, SOS calmly explains that these choices harden into a permanent mystic garment known as the "solar body". While rebellious souls risk drifting as powerless ghosts for up to ten thousand years, students realize that true spiritual evolution requires building a mystic body of light through disciplined self-mastery rather than hiding behind unearned fantasy wishes or proxy salvation.
The Virtues Sash and Mystic Body: Souls are evaluated in the afterlife by their accumulation of virtues, wisdom, and holy-spirit superpowers, which physically manifest in the mystic world as a permanent "solar body" or garment of light.
The Danger of Rebellious Limbo: Souls who refuse self-mastery and cling to unhealed addictions, attachments, and grudges risk becoming stuck as powerless ghosts in a hellish limbo for up to ten thousand years without a physical body.
The Fallacy of Blind Belief Sashes: Clinging to dogmatic belief lists, unearned salvation, or excuses for personal corruption creates an internal falsehood that cannot be faked when the soul transitions into the mystic realm.
Consequential Choice: Every repeated choice, whether a virtue badge or an addiction pin, stitches together the actual spiritual architecture of the soul that outlasts the physical lifespan.
The Secretary of Souls (SOS): The federal official who conducts the assembly, outlining the mechanics of the virtues sash, the solar body, and the true consequences of earthly choices.
Diesel: A skeptical student who mockingly designs a "Rebel Sash" and "Dark Magic" badges to defend human perversions and avoidance of self-mastery.
Rev: A student who questions the timeline of ghost-limbo and the logistics of spiritual garments.
Abby: A student who recites a rigid list of blind beliefs and proxy salvation expectations, seeking an easy afterlife ticket.