“Yep. Other than the lost souls. This is the system that we protect, the real center of all of the Dead Offices. If anything ever happened to this, the entire system could collapse. The afterlife would crumble. Souls would be lost to nothingness or locked on Earth and endless torture. Evil souls would escape Ayelala’s realm and wreak havoc on the living. Real apocalypse stuff.”

  My eyes were wide as I continued to study the tangle of tubes. “Yeah… we can’t let that happen.” I murmured, head still turning this way and that as I tried to absorb every single detail of the place. Even though I’d been awake for quite a while, it still felt like at any moment, I could suddenly wake up and everything would vanish like some sort of fever dream.

  “No, we do not.” Gildebrak’s expression was grave. “And that’s why Reapers take our jobs so seriously. We are the first line of defense protecting the system. Yes, we die often, but all of us would give our lives ten times over to make sure that this remains safe.”

  In that moment, the gravity of the situation really sank in for me. Sure, I was being whisked away on a mythical adventure that was the stuff my fantasy-loving teen self would have dreamed of, but it was so much more. I was now part of an esteemed group of warriors whose entire lives were dedicated to protecting all of humanity. The old, the young. The poor, the rich. No matter what race, gender, or creed, our responsibility was to make sure that the cycle of life and death remained unbroken.

  This is incredible, I thought.

  “This is what I died for. Never let yourself forget this image. I may not remember much about myself, but I know that this is more important than my life, your life, any of our lives. Whatever it was that killed me wants to hurt this, and we can’t let that happen.”

  “No, we cannot,” I replied resolutely, determination and an unusual sort of pride coursing through my veins.

  “What was that?” Gildebrak gave me a funny look.

  “Just talking with my disembodied voice,” I said, noting in the back of my mind that I needed to practice a way to communicate with the voice without speaking out loud. I’d done it before, but my natural inclination was to speak to it as I would anybody else. Definitely a habit I needed to break. “So, when do I start?”

  “Pardon?”

  “With the reaping,” I said. “With protecting all of humanity. When do I start? Now? Tomorrow? Is there an orientation?”

  “Whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, hotshot,” Gildebrak shook her head. “You’re not even registered yet.”

  “But you said . . .”

  “Look, you will definitely be a Reaper, but these things take time.” She sighed. “Bureaucracy is never fast, even in the Dead Offices. We’ll get you there eventually, but there’s a lot of steps beforehand.”

  It was hard not to feel disappointed, and I was pretty sure it showed on my face because Gildebrak actually looked a little guilty.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mislead you on the timeline. One of the effects of being part of this place for so long is you kind of forget how fleeting everything is on Earth sometimes. Why don’t I take you home and let you sleep on things? You don’t feel it yet, but you’re going to be exhausted. It takes a lot of energy to maintain a form in here, which is why humans usually can’t stay conscious in this realm. Besides, I’m sure that you have a lot of responsibilities you've got to take care of. Unlike the rest of us, you actually have an adult life.”

  Oh, there was definitely a story there. I could sense it. “What do you mean?"

  “I’ll explain later. For now, let’s just get you back home, alright?”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Sure,” I said flatly, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I really had worked myself up there, only to be told to wait.

  Ugh! The thought of going back to my barista job after being shown the secrets of the universe was pretty difficult to accept.

  My next shift was really going to suck!

  “Come here, take my hand and we’ll get you back to your place.”

  “What, from here?” I asked, looking around. “We don’t have to take the train to some sort of special launch station or something?”

  “Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that. We can leave the Dead Offices from pretty much wherever. I’ll need you to picture your home real clearly, but that’s really about it.”

  I squinted at her, trying to logic it all out in my mind. “And we won’t, like, collide with anyone?”

  Gildebrak smirked and it was almost condescending but had just enough genuine amusement in it not to be. “What are we planes? No, we’ll be fine. It’s more metaphysical than anything else, so don’t try to apply any sort of physics or rules of the human reality to it.”

  “You realize that’s exceedingly difficult to do, right?”

  The young girl shrugged, holding out her hand and wiggling her fingers at me. “We can snark all we want later, but for right now, I’m serious about getting you into bed. No human has ever been conscious around here, let alone so long, so I really don’t want to push it for your body.”

  “Fine.” I took her hand then closed my eyes. “You said picture my apartment?”

  “Yes indeedy. Don’t think about anything else but being right in the middle of it, surrounded by all of your things. Think of the places you like to hang out in the most, your favorite items…”

  I did as she instructed, and in the middle of her speech, I felt my stomach swoop in a way that was decidedly unpleasant. It almost felt like I was on a rollercoaster, except I wasn’t moving at all. My entire body felt like it was freezing on the border of actually turning solid, yet at the same time I was burning up. Part of me most definitely wanted to open my eyes and see what could possibly be happening, but my body wouldn’t let me, almost like my survival instincts were enacting some sort of override from my will.

  Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was all over.

  “We’re here!”

  I opened my eyes and, sure enough, we were in my tiny studio apartment, exactly as I had left it what felt like ages ago.

  “Oh, this is uh… cozy,” Gildebrak said, already having let go of my hand to look around. I felt like I was still getting my bearings when she was already in my kitchenette, poking at my hot plate then opening and closing my microwave door.

  “What are you doing?” I said, crossing my arms. But it was like the movement kickstarted my awareness of my own body because suddenly I felt as if I’d run a marathon and then some.

  “Just some casual investigating, no cause for alarm. What’s with all the costumes, anyway?”

  Normally I felt like I would be a bit more hospitable, but it wasn’t like I’d invited the strange woman into my house. Or even my life for that matter. “They’re not costumes, it’s fashion.”

  Gildebrak blinked at me. “What’s the difference?”

  “W-what… what’s the difference?” I sputtered, completely affronted.

  Normally I would love to infodump about the fashion world and its intersection with costuming, as well as all the foibles, follies, flaws, and victories within the industry, but I was too exhausted and suddenly all of my nerves felt frayed to the absolute maximum.

  “Don’t you need to get back to all your reaper friends?”

  She tilted her head to the side as if I was the odd one. And who knew, maybe I was. “I’ve upset you.”

  “Yes! No. I mean, probably? I dunno, suddenly everything feels like too much.”

  The woman retreated from my kitchenette and I almost felt a bit guilty for snapping at her. “It’s okay, I get it. Like I said, you’re probably exhausted and overwhelmed from everything you’ve been through. I’ll skidaddle out of here, and you can hit the hay.” She pointed to my bed. “That does look plenty comfy.”

  I had almost expected a snarky remark about my boxspring and mattress being on the floor, but her compliment seemed genuine and that did assuage the rush of negative feelings in me. Sure, maybe I couldn’t afford a nice bedframe or really have the space in my studio, but I had put a lot of effort into sewing a pile of custom pillows of all the softest and coziest fabric, as well collecting soft plushes whenever I could from thrift stores. Some would call it childish, but I would never feel bad for hoarding what little joys and comforts that I could.

  “It is,” I answered. “How will I contact you again?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll reach out to you.” She gave a wink and then there was a rush of wind out of nowhere, picking up some of my loose fabric and trims to whip around her. I shielded my face, and when the wind stopped, she was gone.

  Huh.

  The moment that she disappeared suddenly everything that I’d seen seemed so impossible, like I’d hallucinated it in some sort of fugue state. But I was too tired to poke at it one way or the other, so instead I stumbled over to my bed and collapsed into it, street clothes and all. I barely even had time to pull my weighted blanket over myself before I was out like a light, hoping that I’d just had the world’s most vivid nightmare.