Eternity's Echo

by H. C. Southwark

  “Better?” asked Niles. “Feeling collywobbles? Dizzy?”

  Ellie shook her head.

  “I’m going to pick Shawn up, now,” Niles said. “If you feel lightheaded, sit back down.” And before he turned to Shawn, he gave the nearby John a ‘see after her’ look.

  It was a task Ellie had received many times about Robbie, from her father.

  John reacted just like she had. He shrugged. His squint looked like the stink eye as he studied Ellie, but she knew that this was just his face. He said, “Bit of a shocker, huh?”

  Don’t, Ellie tried to communicate with just a glare. Don’t pull your ‘big brother’ routine with me. I’m the elder sibling in my family and I don’t mesh with that.

  But I do have a brother.

  Robbie, the name was almost on her lips. He had looked so different. They had always been so far apart in age, she remembered holding him in her lap, the days when all he could do was squeal. For about six months his only word was ‘no!’ And now he was a teenager. In two years, he would be her age when she died.

  But he wouldn’t, she realized. Robbie would never have another birthday.

  All at once, rage came. She wanted to throw back her head, toss up a fist and shout: What is the point of all this? Why was my brother born at all if this is it? Tell me!

  Why was the universe made to end in the first place?

  And behind that: Why do people die at all?

  And underneath: Why are people allowed to do evil things?

  And, hidden, in a whisper: ...to themselves?

  Ellie caught her hand reaching for the end of her scarf, forcibly tucked it into her coat in what must have looked like the most aggressive hands-into-pockets maneuver ever.

  John, who was watching her, wisely chose not to comment.

  In front of her, Shawn’s face looked wan, like a starved man, as Niles stood him upright and patted him on the back. Ellie did not want to think that her appearance matched his. Shawn would not look directly at her or anybody else. His boy-band hair seemed to have lost its poofiness, oily and limp like it was in need of washing.

  “There now,” said Niles, when he saw that his grip was not the only thing keeping Shawn upright. “I think it’s best if all of you walked around for a bit, got feeling back into your legs. Then you can join the others in reaping.”

  He motioned to John. “Go on, I’ve got them.”

  John pivoted and moved to join the flow of worker reapers who were being directed toward the right of the room. But the mentors, Ellie saw, walked against that tide, grouping around Susan’s desk. There were twelve mentors total for the El Paso and nearby squads, and they glanced over to Niles as if worried he would not join them.

  In response to their looking, Niles merely gestured toward Ellie and Shawn, and they all nodded as one. The simultaneous, shared motion made Ellie feel slightly tipsy.

  “Let’s go, then,” said Niles, “just a quick frescade—” but, correcting himself: “—I mean ‘walk’.”

  He guided them to the left, and Ellie saw that the other reapers who had been lowered on to the floor were following. There were six total: herself, Shawn, Holland Mercer, Julia Castillo, Darius-the-Beat, and some new wisp of a girl, pale from her hair down to her sandals with her toes pointy like dice. Ellie did not know her name.

  What made us stand out? Ellie thought, glancing over the other members of the group. Or, rather—what made us all need to sit down?

  The answer to that question, at least literally, was still apparent: most of their faces looked disturbed, as if they had seen something jump out at them from a darkened corner and now the world was a frightening, confusing place.

  Considering that the apocalypse had just happened, Ellie understood this reaction.

  Perhaps a better question was—Why had everyone else been celebrating?

  As Ellie followed Niles, not unlike a duckling, she glanced back at the two groups. The mentors were in a football huddle, talking in low voices. The workers were jumbled behind them. Anna Woodsworth was trying to create some sense of order, but judging by the murmuring and jostling she had her work cut out for her.

  It did not help that Anna Woodsworth had died when she was ten years old, so she was half the size of almost everyone.

  Why are they over there, receiving orders like this is just another reaping assignment? Ellie wondered. This is the end of the world. And yet, they’re not concerned.

  Even as she watched, one of the reapers in Anna’s group gave another a high five. Someone nudged his friend on the shoulder; another pair gave each other thumbs-up as Anna tried to push them into a semi-circle. Part of Anna’s problem was everyone kept milling about, hugging, patting, chattering. A faint sound of laughter.

  They were still celebrating.

  Even when being given a major increase in their workload.

  But not for long, Ellie realized. Because this is the last work we’ll ever do. The rest of humanity, then the Earth. A lot of work upfront. But then... no more work. Done.

  We are now in a demolition phase, Susan had said.

  And Niles’s voice: The sentence is without pardon and without parole. What part of that suggests that time ending will put an end to your commission?

  Ellie stumbled a bit, caught Niles glancing at her with concern.

  Again, she thought: What happens to reapers when there is nobody left to reap?

  The walking was working. She could feel strength back in her legs, her knees locking with every step, but keeping her upright. Behind, she could hear Shawn’s ball and chain: clink, thump, pause as he moved his free leg, and then clink, thump.

  That will be annoying, came the thought. Poor Shawn. Reaping the world on a ball and chain. It’s tragicomedy. And then: but he deserves it. Yet then: but he wasn’t celebrating the end of the world, not like those jerks back there. Even a wacko like Shawn knows that the apocalypse is a bad thing—so what’s up with them?

  “Niles,” Ellie said, before she realized that she was speaking.

  Her mentor slowed down, but so imperceptibly that she herself did not slow in response, despite that she was following him. He was walking beside her now, said, “Yes, Ellie?”

  “What happened, back there?” she asked. When he only raised an eyebrow, prompting ‘what do you mean,’ she clarified: “Why was everyone so happy?”

  “Ah,” said Niles, nodding. “I suppose it could seem a little confusing.”

  “A little,” said Ellie, her voice dry.

  Niles sighed. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you think?”

  “I can’t think,” said Ellie. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “No,” corrected Niles, “it doesn’t make sense to you. In general, people’s actions make sense to themselves. So try placing yourself in their shoes and seeing what they see.”

  Ellie frowned at him. Just tell me, she wanted to say, don’t make me work. But Niles was terrible about giving answers to questions or tasks he asked of others—or, rather, from his perspective he was good at waiting for you to do the work yourself.

  Ellie snorted.

  Her mind circled, re-wound back, to replay the event: everyone heard the chime. Time stopped. Reapers on layovers, suddenly all the living freezing, and then not un-freezing. Reapers on assignment, watching their assignments turn to statues. Confusion.

  Returning upstairs. Lots of reapers coming at once. Everyone reports the same. Those in satellite cities and regions too small to have their own upstairs—far up as Castle Rock and far down as Pueblo—they would have come here, to Colorado Springs.

  They would have realized: this is more than a local event.

  And yet the announcement about the end of the world had surprised them.

  Ellie knew that there had been disasters in the past, like a mass death event, or a reaper rebelling, or souls getting loose, or trapped in the past, or mobbed by demons. Scratch that one—from wh
at Ellie had heard, that last event had been kind of hilarious.

  So they had probably been prepared to fix whatever was wrong, Ellie thought. But then... when they were told the apocalypse happened... they celebrated.

  Why did they not think about fixing the apocalypse?

  Her mind honed in on that question and would not move. Ellie tried to continue on the train of thought, trying to answer the question and continue on to asking, Why celebrate?—but instead she kept circling back to the question itself.

  Why don’t we stop the end of the world?

  Why are we following orders?

  Why are the orders to demolition the universe?

  If the universe is broken—if this ‘Spindle of Necessity’ is broken—why not fix it?

  Why not just re-start time?

  “Ellie,” said Niles, interrupting her thoughts. His expression was like a parent who was aware of mischief afoot. “You look like someone who is about to get away with something. I trust you aren’t thinking of anything fandangle or dangerous.”

  He knows, Ellie realized. He knew all along where my mind would go when he asked the question. Maybe he even wants me to discuss this, more than them celebrating.

  “Okay,” Ellie said. “I’ll say it. Why aren’t we trying to stop the end of the world?”

  “That is a different question from your first one.”

  “You probably planned I’d ask it anyway,” Ellie accused.

  “I am not a mind reader,” said Niles, placidly, “but I suspect that this is the sort of question one asks at the apocalypse, yes.” He stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, and glanced up at the golden ceiling, his walk becoming more of a stroll.

  “Well?” Ellie prompted.

  “I thought you were going to answer the first question. They are related, you know.”

  Ellie felt a little explosion inside of her, which made a way to her mouth. She ranted:

  “How should I know? Because they’re idiots. Because they’re a bunch of suicidal maniacs commissioned to reap souls because God’s petty and wants to remind them of the lives they threw away. Because reapers are in the highest circle of Hell and this is a way to torment them. Because half of them are criminals and psychopaths who are lazy. They’re thinking this is the end of their work. Am I right?”

  Niles bowed his head, eyes scanning the tile floor as if searching for patterns in the marble’s black-and-white tie-dye. His face had the look of someone who had said something wrong and was regretting it, but was unsure of how to apologize.

  At last he said, “Haven’t you ever completed something that was a lot of work? Something long and hard and complicated? Like a school assignment. And when you completed it, did you not celebrate? Even though you knew that you had to get up and back to work the next day. And you weren’t stupid or foolish for celebrating.”

  Ellie did not quite know what to say, so she let Niles continue: “It’s the same with them. Many have reaped now for centuries, and this is the end of their work. They celebrate because the end is in sight and they are happy for all their success. That doesn’t make them scrimshanks who want to avoid work—that makes them quite the opposite.”

  “But this isn’t a school project,” Ellie said, the first thing that came to her. “This is the whole world and everyone in it. There’s nothing more important than that.”

  “Is there?” said Niles, and he sounded as though the question had another answer.

  “Of course not! You’re talking about the end of everything—and everyone dying, all the people on earth. No more humans. And my family—they’re going to be reaped, dead.”

  “Ellie,” said Niles, and his voice was gentle. “Your family would have died anyway.”

  “But not now!” Ellie felt another explosion spilling from her. “My dad is like forty-six, my mom is not even forty, and Robbie’s about to be my age! They would have lived for years and years and done things and seen things and—and—”

  And they were finally happy—the words were raw on the back of her throat, but she felt too hoarse to say them. Instead, after a moment where Niles waited for her to recover, she ended with, “They deserve to live their whole lives. Not ones cut short by... this.”

  “Death,” said Niles, “is the end state of all living creatures. All are born knowing this, from the elephant to the man to the tiniest worm. This is not a burden, it is a gift.”

  Ellie sucked out a breath, let out the air as a harsh sound, not quite a laugh.

  Niles glanced at her, but did not stop. “Life is not the point of existence. It is only a single minute on a much larger scale, a preparation for a banquet, not the meal itself. To consider life the most important thing in existence is to fall into the great trap.”

  Gazing up again, Niles continued, “It is to mistake the inside of the egg for the entirety of reality. To look backwards rather than forwards. Life is merely a shadow, an echo, of all that will come after. That life is short is what gives it meaning at all.”

  “Stop it,” Ellie interrupted, not able to listen any longer.

  Niles paused, his foot midair. “Stop?”

  “This,” Ellie said. “You’re giving me your ‘reaper talk.’ The one you give to souls that just died.” She did not need to add that Niles had modeled it for her, demonstrated it to her, during her training. She would recognize the words and the sentiments anywhere.

  Niles seemed to be considering what she was saying, and nodded, as though he was acknowledging the unintentional insult. “I suppose I am.”

  “Then you know everything you just said is hooey,” said Ellie. She crossed her arms, glared at him. “Like, actually listen to what I’m saying, Niles.”

  “I am listening,” Niles responded.

  “Then why are you giving me your ‘more important things’ talk?”

  “Because while I am listening to you, I am not certain that you are listening to me.”

  Ellie scuffed her boot on the tile with such force that she felt the joint of her knee pop, like a cracked knuckle. “I am. I heard everything. And I’m saying it’s junk. It’s what people say because they feel bad at a funeral. It only makes you feel better, it doesn’t actually mean anything. You can talk and talk about meaning and eternity and whatever, but that doesn’t change the fact that my family is going to die.”

  “What do you want, Ellie?” Niles said, and he sounded tired.

  I want you to help me, Ellie wanted to say, but that sounded too needy, overdramatic, especially the next words: help me save the world. Because Ellie was not a movie star. She was a grunt. A worker reaper three years into her commission. And now she was having trouble thinking about how to phrase her request. Her demand.

  Not without begging. Please, Niles, you need to save the world. Everyone listens to you.

  “I want you to go over to the other mentors and tell them to think of a way to stop this,” Ellie settled on the words, trying to find some kind of balance between need and necessity that did not also sound insulting—because of course someone like Niles should have thought about this possibility already, it seemed so obvious.

  But, as she thought back, Niles had been smiling. Only a little. But he had smiled.

  And Niles was smiling now, too, but this time he did not look relieved. He looked sad.

  “You can disagree with me all you want, Ellie,” he said. “It is your right. But I’m not saying this because I don’t have anything better to say. I’m trying to help you learn what I’ve learned without putting as much of the hard work in.”

  He paused, seemed affected, somehow, by her now-unyielding glare.

  “But I suppose it’s also true that it’s impossible to learn all this without putting in at least some effort,” he amended, and seemed to be talking to himself as much as her.

  “How lovely,” said Ellie. “Are you saying I’m stupid, then?”

  Niles shook his head. “I’m saying I remember the days when I
was like you are now. And I’m sorry that it all hurts. I remember—” he seemed to search for words— “I remember that everything hurt, back then. But it does get better, Ellie.”

  Ellie did not know what to say. She thought about ranting at him, but she had already said her piece—she thought about striking him, but that seemed childish—she thought about throwing up her hands and just howling, but that seemed unspeakable.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Niles said, and he lifted his arm to nudge her shoulder and turn her around, “I promise, Ellie. If you need to talk, you can dial me, you know.”

  Then he raised his voice: “Very well, all of you, go join Anna for new orders.”

  The five worker reapers turned and trudged back, passing the mentors’ huddle on their way. Shawn’s ball and chain clunked in dull echoes past the many doors of Hells. And Ellie dug her chin into her sternum, thinking on the only true thing she had learned:

  Niles was not going to help her.

  More importantly, without his help, she had no idea how to stop the apocalypse.

  Chapter Ten: Three New Rules.

  Ellie stood with Shawn among the semi-circle of worker reapers, watching Anna Woodsworth explain how to set their reaper’s tools for the new reaping method.

  With this dial setting, they could withdraw the souls, grab them, and click the knob. The soul would be sent to the waiting room, but there would be no weighing of the heart, and the reapers would not go along—it was a sort of one-and-done maneuver.

  “You just keep going,” Anna said. She had a gap in her teeth and eyebrows thinned more than necessary. Anna had died in the prairie days; rumor said her white family had been killed, she had been taken by the Ute, and later other settlers retrieved her. She had then hung herself—the loss of her second family was too much.

  Even thinking about that made Ellie tug on her scarf.

  “Most souls are gonna be confused, so relatively easy. Try to avoid conversation. Dump em, move on. For those of you in the suburbs, we’re looking at twenty an hour. But working in the city limits, I’m expecting one hundred souls an hour.”