Long Live Death: Welcome To The Afterlife

by Mercott, Joshua

  “It is all so tedious, Helidon. The city that should never even be on the after-map is one of the most populated. And that isn’t an interesting discovery or a compliment. It’s a disgusting lack of order. What doesn’t life offer you life-forms that even humans think they can take matters into their own hands? I’ll never understand it. You souls are so much more useful in actual appointed forms in actual life-infused realms like Earth and Orionus, Kertah and Jrthamnla.” It was the first time I heard him sigh. It sounded like the huffing of a bull. “don’t wish to away so much information, especially not to the likes of you, Mr. Reincarnator.” His hand seemed to gather heat on my neck. “Your six-month term is already half over on the day of Soul Ferry. Consider your innocence stripped. You have no idea the things that are coming for you and trust me when I say that sturdier and more capable Reincarnators have fallen under the force.

  “I don’t know why I chose you, Helidon.” He gripped my neck hard. I stifled a cough. His grip returned to normal. “It was my opinion against a machine’s. When you died and your soul went through processing, you were shipped to the suicide department, and a full soul scan was run on each of you low-worth take-life mongrels. The intelli-gram created an aptitude matrix based on all your emotions, circumstantial decisions, fight or flee responses and other qualities. I don’t care enough to see these things, which is why I wrote the intelligent program so it can see for me. You came out number one in its output charts, and for the life of me I don’t know how or why. The program said it so it must have some credence. A casual study of more than eighty candidates made me expect about a dozen or so others to be at the number one spot, and none of them human. Still you’re all life-takers and as such undeserving of honor, so don’t let the whole number-one concept go to your head. You as Reincarnator? Four times I fed the data through different matrix simulations. Four times it kicked you to the top. I ran side-research but your life was so boring the outsourcers almost died from Vaark.

  “What I’m coming to say, Helidon, is that my instincts are one thing but a program is another. You were chosen for this office. As much as you have dishonored it as you have your own life by taking it, there is still work to be done and a world’s worth of it. I for one will not tolerate any more laxes on your part. I...” he shouted and my knees buckled. The whole city was privy to my shame. “...will not let you dishonor my status as King Death, ruler of all that lives and fears me. You are a disgraceful Reincarnator and I will not take any more nonsense. You have three more months in your first term to show results or else. I determine who lives and who dies. I may not create but I take. Fail me and I will show you and anyone else who doesn’t get their fassthalia together what it truly means to be dead!”

  He threw me bodily from the balcony. I fell twenty stories to the square below. Traffic screeched to a halt, a few minor accidents happened and all who were nearby gasped, screamed and pointed. The Press chronicled everything with red-lit cameras and a series of horrified flashes.

  9

  Boremasta is the scum of the universe. I say it again, right here in black and white, Courier Boremasta, head of the Credit Finance, Revenue, Taxation, Funding & Budget Department is the scum of the universe. The immense life-form has fed off the lives of thousands of people even on his home planet of Ferxes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the reason for that planet’s major impoverished population was Boremasta himself who, unconventionally so, has mastered the art of money without even having any. He was to be murdered execution style when more than five billion Ferxians signed a consentual agreement to have him killed. He had hung himself by his fat neck and half the ceiling had hung with him. He put the over in overweight. They had discovered proof of his crimes against them and how he’d robbed them blind.Their law bodies refused to bring such a powerful member of the financial sector to justice, and so the people took justice into their own hands. Ironically, here he is serving in the financial sector again, and I’m guessing it’s His Majety’s program to blame.

  That dratted aptitude matrix or whatever the bloody hell it is has appointed this parasite to such an important post in the City of Suicides. Why that stupid program chose me, four times no less, to be Reincarnator and working for the same entity who chose this piece of work called Boremasta is beyond me. The Ferxian is a sucker for power, which is why it came as no surprise to me when I heard rumors of his association with the vampiric Von Heisens. The Baron and Baroness must certainly have felt ill at ease to be in the presence of someone as ugly in body and heart as this thing. At least the Von Heisens hid their burned hearts inside fair rib cages. I am angry and frustrated with Boremasta because with all the pressure that I am facing, his potential treachery would only reflect on my office. It’s not my fault that even his afterlife was a parasitic one.

  In addition to learning of Von Heisen power plays and desire to usurp His Majesty’s throne—an idiotic ill-spent investment, if you ask me—Boremasta working with them, probably telling them court secrets, planning a coup in future, and vying to place a Von Heisen, I’m sure, in my office if or when they find a way to get rid of me... I didn’t sign up for any of this. Where in my aptitude matrix did it show a poor uneducated farm boy wanting an afterlife filled with pointless politics? Why would Death’s program make me suffer? At least if the King himself chose me, no programs involved, I’d have blamed his lack of judgement and found several reasons to help me sleep at night. But where do I start blaming a program?

  My only ally at court is Natalew, the courtier I’d met when I’d returned after the mishaps following my tiff with the homeless man. I wouldn’t call Natalew a friend because as you’ll remember we’re all after each other’s jobs, even inter-departmental, to stay in Death’s favor. However, with two offices as far apart as Food & Agriculture, which is Natalew’s domain, and Reincarnation, which is mine, we sorta kinda most of the time get along, making us silent allies.

  “Natelew, I’m going to be honest with you. If I had to count myself a living human being, you’d be way older than me and wiser too.” I had his attention. I needed to make a good first impression even though Natalew and I had crossed amiable paths many times in the past four months. This courtier needed to be courted, to be honeyed into a deal. Being a southerner where he came from, Natalew was so polite he followed rules of courtesy that made normal people think overkill. Odd, southerners everywhere seem to be like that. So, here I am in one of the poshest cafes in town, buying coffee and pie for Natalew who could never say no to the twain. Ever since he’d savored Earth’s chocolate pie not to mention smelt the rich aroma of coffee enter his cavernous nostrils and the hot fluid course down his thin throat, he was hooked. “Now, I’m not saying that because we’re souls, my experiences outweigh yours, not at all Natalew. My point is,” I waited for the noise of his chewing and slurping to abate, “I need your advice. I told myself this morning, I told myself ‘Helidon, if you’re going to do what you’re going to do, don’t you dare do it without asking Natalew what he would do’.”

  “Go ahead, Helidon, I’m all ears.” One nice thing about this courtier, he never said anything he didn’t mean. If he wanted no part of something he’d say, ‘I like your idea, I’d love to help you accomplish it and see it fulfilled, but I’m afraid my duties take me down a different road. My apologies, friend, coffee and pie anytime’, and he’ll be off. I was therefore quite glad that after fifteen minutes, maybe more, he’d given me the go ahead. He was willing to listen.

  “This concerns Boremasta.”

  “Ahhhh,” he said. He nodded his head and smiled at the same time. He turned his attention back to a fast disappearing pie.

  “I had tasked the paige with confirming the rumors. He said he saw Boremasta take the isolated road out of town, the one off Highway 57.”

  “That’s the road that leads to the Von Heisens. Their castle is the only thing at the end of that road. Nobody else would build there even though the civil works dep—”

  “You’re so right, Natalew.�
�� I tried to make it sound as casual as I could without making it seem like I was desperate to have his ear on only this topic. “Don’t forget the whipped cream,” I passed it to him and he eagerly reached for it. “Now, what would our head of all things credit related in Quadrant do all the way out there?”

  “Taxes!” he exclaimed, his mouth full. “Have you seen the castle?”

  “That’s all well and good, Natalew, but tax season isn’t for several months. I’m still getting used to the fact that fifteen months make a year in this dimension.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” he said and moved fast as if he had eaten something spicy. He gulped down some water. If there was one thing all the life-forms I know had most in common, it was their need for water. “Where I come from, the life-system Ut, we have precisely twenty-two months in a year.”

  I gave a low whistle and pretended to be impressed. “Those are some long days in the sun.”

  “Oh yes.” He went back to munching and gulping. I waited for the awkwardness to pass. I looked around at things on the table.

  “So, no taxes. What then would Boremasta be doing?”

  “Rumor has it he is up to his usual underhanded politics, Helidon. He might be in cahoots with the Von Heisens on court matters. We’re all familiar with the ambitions of the vampire family.”

  “You hit the nail on the head, Natalew. Now how am I as Reincarnator going to do my job if he, according to rumors of course, is planning on taking over management? This city, according to His Majesty, should be empty and gone, no souls left, all reincarnated. But by the looks of things, if Boremasta has his way, he’ll take over and keep things going. After all, there’s a whole city at stake, in fact a whole dimension. Suicides will always keep coming and they’ll augment the population until Boremasta and company have the largest dimension under their thumb. With his skill for numbers, he’ll make the rest of the dimensions come under Quadrant City’s economical rule. Whether it’s taxes or tribute, he’ll go on being the parasite he is. And since he isn’t dead, an immortal soul, he has all of eternity to be so called ruler. And he’s already been in Quadrant City for over five years; he’ll know every nook and cranny, making him book smart as well as street smart.”

  Midway to his mouth hung a fork. On the fork sat a chunk of pie wth some whipped cream on it. Natalew looked at me for a few seconds and then ate the last piece of pie. “I like your idea, I’d love to help you accomplish it and see it fulfilled, but I’m afraid my duties take me down a different road. My apologies, friend, coffee and pie anytime,” he said. “Seeing as how you haven’t eaten yours yet, I’ll keep you company. It’s the polite thing to do.” He readjusted his weight on the chair.

  “Thank you for your consideration, Natalew. As always, I’m eternally grateful.” He made a ‘oh nevermind’ gesture and stared at corporate life-forms dining around us. They completely ignored the two of us, their way of saying ‘we hate courtiers and your income tax raids, to us you don’t even exist’. I gestured to the waitress, a shapely life-form whose home planet I couldn’t recall at the moment. I’d already prepared her on what to do long before Natalew had arrived to meet me in the cafe. She brought over another plate of chocolate pie and a mug of steaming cappuchino, both loaded with whipped cream and this time she’d added cherries.

  No sooner had they arrived than the gleam in Natalew’seyes made me wonder if he understood what I was doing and that he was okay with it. “Seems to me, Helidon, that you need to keep things simple. Think down to earth in politics and turn the heavens to make it happen.”

  “What do you mean?” I liked what he said but it didn’t make any sense to me.

  “Just go on over to the Von Heisens at the same time Boremasta does. If there’s any sinister dealings going on that we don’t know about, you’ll have picked up some body language. If they’re really good at hiding it, at least you were there to subtly let them know that you aren’t to be trifled with.”

  I was nervous to agree. I’d wanted to return to the Von Heisens even when I knew the whole warren was vampiric. But vampires with aggressive political ambtions? That made me cringe. “I’ll be sure to do this, Natalew. You’re a good friend, thank you so much.”

  “I accept your gratitude, Helidon, but it’s best we refrain from friendship.”

  “I understand. But out of curiosity, let me ask... You don’t believe in friendship?”

  “There was a time when I did,” he said promptly. “Helidon, friends are more valuable than family. Before you question the thought, let me explain. Family loves you because they’re genetically linked to you and are, whether they’d believe it or not, predisposed to loving you. Of course, it’s only normal that life throws up circumstances to break some family ties. On the other hand, when it comes to friends, they have no reason to love or care for you. But when they do, the relationship goes above natural laws of biological familial bonding. The very idea extends along a whole new branch. This is why we see marriages—oh yes they’re there even where I come from—last longer if there’s a ‘friendship’ between the couple. Best friends are therefore the most valuable relationship when it comes to social ties. When circumstances push two friends apart and if they don’t fight for each other what they’re doing—whether they believe it or not, Helidon—is committing the purest most unadulterated form of betrayal in the universe.” He went silent and stared at his pie. “If you don’t mind, Helidon, may I have this to go?”

  I called the waitress over. “Of course, Natalew. So, I’ll take care of business, follow up on your suggestion, and keep you updated. I’m glad we’re allies. Your words have been most invaluable.” I gave him my best smile and joined him as he got up to leave. We waved to each other and parted ways. Unlike inside the corporate cafe where people hated courtiers enough to ignore them, out on the street fame followed a fickle path. News, along with high-def photos and video scenes, of my humiliation in the King’s court spread through every available mode of communication, even a rudimentary internet that I’ll explain in a more comfortable moment.

  Being Reincarnator after the Soul Ferry was not a great thing. People gawked, gossiped, gabbed and griped. Some gave me a look and didn’t even bother to turn away when I spotted them. It was like high school all over again, from back when I was human. I had to drop out because my parents couldn’t afford school for me anymore. I made up my mind when I overheard dad talking to a man about selling his kidney. Education as shitty as the one I could access wasn’t worth that.

  Just because we were his courtiers didn’t make us special in Death’s eyes. He used a controlled form of cruelty and was in possession of the darkest threads of wisdom. We couldn’t hope to understand His Majesty, and His Majesty sure didn’t care to understand us. That’s why us courtiers walked where we went, took cabs, were helped from emergency funds and a very meager one at that, had no security detail to protect us from the masses, lived on average incomes, worked like horses and ate like birds, and as I’d recounted earlier weren’t given the privilige of living in castles, mansions or manors, and were banned servants, even a maid to cook and clean. It was us, only us, all us, all the time, squirming under the thumb of Death.

  I took a cab—for a moment I thought it’ll be Nolan, the driver who was always there when I needed him, but it was another life-form entirely. I asked to go to the Von Heisens a minute after he revved the car. He’d braked hastily and asked me to exit the vehicle. Without so much as apologizing he drove away. I hailed another cab. Another cabby who wasn’t Nolan came along. “Are you capable of taking me to Castle Von Heisen or should I just stand outside the car until you make up your mind?” He looked at me funny, like I’d gone off my rocker, and drove away. I think I gave him the wrong impression.

  I headed back to the pavement. People recognized me as I passed by and gossiped about what happened recently to the poor Reincarnator. I dropped my hands into my coat pockets and kept walking, staring at the polished tiles like they held a map. To be honest, I had
no idea where I was going.

  10

  After much walking I had finally arrived at the train station. I didn’t intend to get here. Spending all that time in the office the only route I knew in Quadrant was the way back to my apartment. This was on a whole other side of town. The train station connected all major and minor segments of the city, in essence linking all seventy-three quadrants. I wanted to travel and learn more about the life-forms I shared existence with when I was back in my body on Earth. There was so much to see and explore in Quadrant City. But my first orientation month when I was being trained for Reincarnatordom took away curiosity and replaced it with routine.

  In less than a month all my youth was burned away and even though I was thirty-two years when I’d taken my life I felt like an old man. My body ached, my head pained and I didn’t have a clue where I was most of the time. I’m afraid in a lot of ways I am still weak. For one thing, I hate speed, it scares the living daylights out of me. Any vehicle that so much as grazes fifty miles per hour frightens me, makes my stomach churn and knot up, and my head spin with bloody possibilities.

  This is why I kept as far away as possible from Quadrant City’s train network. This was the first time I was going to take it, in my life as well as afterlife. I was left with this one option if I needed transport to the Von Heseins. Each minute I delayed was one more minute for them to scheme and prepare. I didn’t want to invest time and money in Reincarnator duties when I knew that a thorn like their plotting would bleed my work away. If they were out of the picture and if I found proof of foul play, I could prove it, do my duty to the fullest and retire. King Death demanded nothing short of excellence and his courtiers, as he himself put it, ‘...are about as useful as snakes with no fangs, wolves with no packs, tigers with no stealth, and elephants with no tusks’.