Becoming Death: Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
I didn’t even know I was dead.
It felt sudden and quick—probably hit by a truck or something. Pretty standard as far as deaths go. I figured that was it, the end. Unfortunately for me, a new job opened up upon my passing, and I woke up as Death incarnate. Or colloquially, the Grim Reaper.
Sucks, right?
No training, other than those fucking onboarding videos. Oh, and the sudden realization that I would have to watch everyone I know and love pass away. That was hard. The infinite knowledge of all existence was tough to swallow, too. It was all a bit overwhelming.
Other than that, it’s a job. Since I no longer have my mortal coil, I don't need to sleep. Or eat. Or anything, really. I am the optimal employee, considering it’s now been so long that I don’t remember any of my hopes and dreams, wants, needs, name, bank information, or my sexual preferences. I’m never late, because, well, I only had to clock in once. That was as soon as I died. I was late for that, though, I’m told.
I gave up a long time ago on asking “why?” I’ve found that it just confuses things. What is, is, and I have to exist. I can’t quit. I was told there aren’t any other jobs. That it’s “just the market” right now. Not really sure what they meant by that.
I collect souls. I am the last thing people see, the bridge to the most important part of existence. Yet, I feel so empty! My job is important, but I can’t help but to not give a shit. Maybe I’m burnt out? I don’t know. Did I struggle with this as a mortal?
Being immortal looks great on paper: live forever (even though technically I am not “alive”; I simply am—the idea of being alive exists only in the material world) and keeping your consciousness instead of melting into the void…when all of that's said out loud, it sounds pretty cool, right?
That’s until you realize you miss out on all the good parts of that. Sure, you can “live” forever, but you’ve already experienced mortal death (not fun). Also, as I stated previously but cannot emphasize enough, you have to watch every single person you know and love die. Bummer. Guess the apathy can be funny, at least. Gallows humor keeps me going, although the jokes fade away too. It just becomes.
The Greeks called me Thanatos—that’s a cooler name, I think. You can call me that. I don’t remember the name my mortal parents gave me.
I decided to start journaling because, well, there’s nothing else to do. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I think I want to share some experiences. I do believe whatever I end up scrawling out will be my last shred of humanity. My final cry into the universe. Very human indeed.
I want to share my first time guiding somebody across to Oblivion.
The case seemed simple: a suicide.
At the time, I thought of suicides as weak, broken souls, and I didn’t feel much sympathy for them. I’ve grown to respect them. I got his report and headed down to the mortal plain.
My job isn’t to entertain anybody’s preconceived notions of death. I just take them where they need to go. I didn’t get that back then. I learned later that I had residual sympathies and other stuff sticking to me from my life.
He was a young kid. Probably mid-twenties, right around the age I was when I died. Seemed fitting for a first job.
The work site was in Barstow, California. It was a dusty town that served as a pit stop between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Known for its meth and gas stations. Surprisingly enough, it was an overdose case.
I showed up at the gas station the kid worked at around 3:30 in the morning. The bathroom was locked, so I went behind the counter and found the key attached to a wooden stick.
“Pretty dirty bathroom,” I said to him, propping open the door with a stopper. “Didn’t clean much, huh?”
He looked up at me with a dazed face.
“Am I dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh...”
I felt pretty bad after that. I helped him up and got out the script I had to read to him, which sounded like a corporate training video.
“Sorry, first time. Uh, so, yeah, you’re dead! You are no longer in the physical realm. You may be asking, ‘How did I get here?’ Let me explain to you what the Next Step is now that you’re dead…Who wrote this shit…”
I trailed off and didn’t notice he was trying to make a break for it.
“Aw shit…buddy, there’s no use! You’re dead! Dammit.”
I ran after him. I was told that this exact scenario would happen, but you’d be surprised at how many people actually do it. He got to the door and tried pushing it open to no avail. He was making a really peculiar noise, almost like a balloon slowly letting out air. It was pitiful.
These days, nothing really gets to me, but back then, with my humanity still fresh and not at all faded, I empathized with him.
I walked up and put my hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, man. It’s gonna be alright.”
“WHO ARE YOU!? GET AWAY! IT’S A DREAM!”
Then the tears came.
I suddenly remembered all of the social workers I knew in my past life and felt a kind of somber respect for them. Seeing souls process the fact that they left the material world is pretty emotionally taxing. I wonder what my job was in my human realm.
I tried to calm him down.
“Hey…buddy…uh, it’s gonna be alright. I mean, it can’t get much worse, right?”
He wasn’t really listening.
“Alright, well, I have some other appointments, it looks like...”
I took a crumpled-up schedule from my pocket. It had 6,000 other names. They told me it would be a light day.
I sighed and put it away.
“Um…look. I don’t like doing this, but we gotta go now.”
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he said pitifully, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I didn’t know…”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t know what else to say. It was all so dark! I felt like I didn't really have the training for dealing with the gravity of what these dead people were saying. But also...there was something else. Normally, I would've been crying with him. I was a very sensitive guy. But I couldn't even squeeze a tear out. In fact...when I thought about it, I didn't feel anything. I felt nothing. Not just for this guy, but...in general. I just remembered feelings, and I thought I should be feeling sorry for this guy. But I didn't. And I thought I should feel bad about that.
I read him the terms and conditions, making sure he signed everything after he accepted the fact that he was really dead. I offered him the post-mortem warranty option in case he wasn't fully satisfied with his experience in the afterlife. He looked a little hopeful when he read that there was an afterlife, but I had to reiterate that it wasn't anything like he probably thought. He said he was an agnostic, so that was cool.
Then I took him in to get processed.
It was a bright white room, that kind of nasty fluorescent lighting that makes your head hurt. I always feel nauseated whenever I enter the offices in Limbo. I think it's that vague memory of doctors' offices and job interviews from my mortal life that makes me want to puke. Then there's Cerberus, a really fucking annoying dog. He's not at all like what he was in Dante's Inferno and Greek mythology, the giant two-headed beast that struck fear into the hearts of the deceased at the Gates of Hell, the literal jaws of Oblivion. No, not that. He's just a Pomeranian. Yeah.
After Cerberus is done yapping at us as we exit the elevator, he takes us over to the check-in table.
"Nice to see you, Newbie. Getting used to the gig yet?" the dog said without moving his mouth.
"I guess so."
"You'll get used to it, kid. At least you're out there on the front lines, getting in on some of that sweet action."
He licked his chops.
"At least you're not like me, confined to this office like some kind of desk jockey. I'm an outdoor dog; it's humiliating! I used to be someone, ya know, HUGE! Big dog. Then I got in trouble, and corporate sends me down here. It's pathetic. I hear the new guy they got at the Gates don't even bark at people. Always on his phone. Kids these days just don't know how to work. Not you though, you'll do great, bud. You got big shoes to fill though. Don't forget that."
The dead guy (his name was Dan) cleared his throat.
"Oh yeah, you. Recently departed. Or whatever we're supposed to call you now, you come with me. We got some business to handle. Alright, run along, Death. You got 5,999 more souls to bring me today. Make it snappy, too; I'm getting hungry. And most people don't choose the 'getting eaten by me' option for the Next Step."
Cerberus walked Dan over to sign some more paperwork and ultimately decide the eternal fate of his soul. I didn’t stick around for that. It felt a little invasive, and I learned more over time that most people weren’t satisfied with their options, and the situation could escalate. I hopped back in the elevator.
It was one of those see-through glass elevators where the lights from all of the cubicles of Death&Co scattered along what seemed to be an infinite amount of space. I hate this ride. It takes forever. On the screen inside the elevator was the weather person for Limbo. I really don’t get why they have a weather person. It’s the same every day. Perhaps the mundane nature of this place is the low-level torture the designers were going for. Nevertheless, I reached the top and exited back out onto the Plains.
That was my first experience in being the Grim Reaper. I collected 5,999 other souls that day: parents, kids, doctors, lawyers, sanitation workers, social workers, soldiers, rich and poor...I took them all to their destinies. And I became less and less interested in the job at hand.
That was until I got the first work order to take the soul of somebody deeply connected to me from my mortal life...
my Father.
END OF CHAPTER 1