Becoming Death: Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
As I descended into the darkness, down the stairwell, I followed a trail of glowing dust (similar to the effect of fireflies on a summer night). I could feel a heavy weight in the air, and a sensation that I believed to be fear; human fear. At the stairwell's base, a hellish glow kindled, burning brighter as I neared my destination. Finally, at the bottom, a dilapidated neon sign flickered incoherently above the cavernous entrance. It read:
"All hope abandon, ye who enter here."
Below hung a PDF printout with the modern translation, probably tacked up by management to be contemporaneous:
“Forget about hope—that’s what got you here.”
Seemingly on cue, a prerecorded message began to blast from speakers along the ceiling:
“Welcome to a new path, a path toward your new life. One with meaning, and filled with purpose. Having a new life can be confusing, but we here at Death&Co only have your best interests in mind. That is why we designed our cutting-edge Reeducation System, or RES for short. I know you’re probably teeming with questions, but it is best to leave those questions for your past life. We do hope you have a meaningful experience. Goodbye.”
The words hope and meaning stuck out to me. Had I abandoned hope? I thought so, but it seemed I was still obeying the last shred of human essence that was stuck to my shoe like gum.
The way I see things now, as an Immortal, having meaning or purpose with your existence is clinging onto hope; but if you abandon hope and meaning entirely, you can free yourself from despair. And feelings. Anything, really.
This place adapts to humanity’s current era: its tropes, inventions, and beliefs can shape its landscape. After all, the afterlife is a human construct. Your journey here depends on who you were and what you believed would await you.
I entered an enormous waiting area teeming with souls, all clutching seemingly important documents. Windows spread infinitely along the back wall, each attracting its own line of defeated figures. Overhead screens displayed numbers, evoking a familiar mortal purgatory: the DMV. They even had a robotic voice calling out “J-196, P-298” etc. The lines didn’t budge. I approached the line designated for rulers and politicians, and found the soul I had just seen at the amphitheatre, still sobbing, and I took the opportunity to glance at his paperwork. The first page, scrawled in a dark red substance, read: “SOUL REGISTRATION.” The text beneath itemized his entire lives—hopes, dreams, regrets, beliefs, TikTok algorithms, joys, crimes. Everything.
I noticed all of the lines were serviced to different archetypes. I was drawn to a particular window that served the Sage archetype, usually reserved to priests and ministers who devoted their life to a particular religion.
I drifted toward a soul being processed at Window J-316. The robed clerk glared up at me with glowing red eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Research. Job-related.”
“Hmph.” He turned back to the soul before him. “Father John Lorens. Occupation: Priest. Cause of death: Suicide. An interesting combination. You cited ‘discontent with vocation’ as your reason. Elaborate.”
The priest stared blankly ahead, mouth slack. Finally, he spoke:
“I realized I was wrong.”
The clerk leaned forward, like his answer had piqued his interest. “Yes, yes—go on.”
“I was wrong. I couldn’t bear the lie. We invent gods like children stitching dolls from rags—pathetic talismans to mute the silence. To be human is a desolate thing. But it appears that my Ego was my demise. Death was not the end. What more do I have to suffer through before I can be at peace? I wonder what Christ felt at Golgotha, when he was alone and forsaken. I talked to many in my life who felt abandoned by God, and I was to bring the lost sheep back to the flock. I was lying to them. I had doubts in my heart. And I died a fraud.” He turned to me suddenly. “Harbinger of Death—you can tell me. Is there a God?”
“I don’t know.”
“Death doesn’t know! Ha! HAHA!” He fell down and started to laugh. Kinda awkward to sit through.
The clerk slammed his stamp—a sickening thud—onto the paperwork. "Enough. You will be reeducated for your fickleness and doubt. According to my records, because you didn't truly believe yet accepted the gifts of your parish to live a lavish life, unfortunately you will also be reeducated for the imperfection of Fraud. You should find familiar faces during your reeducation. Next."
Interesting. The priest would be my ticket deeper into RES. I followed him to the elevator.
“Death himself as my guide?” he muttered. “What comes next?”
“That’s your prerogative.”
He stared ahead, hollow-eyed, the brief spark of hysteria spent. “I see.”
Silence swallowed us as the elevator plummeted into Death&Co’s Reeducation System—First Step: Penance.
END OF CHAPTER 5