Death's Calling

Meet Death

        You know how the story goes; a guy in a hood with a giant farming tool swoops into the homes of the dying and with a flick of the wrist, the soul is collected and taken wherever. This always messed with my mind; of all the things to intimidate people, why a scythe? It's impractical, ungodly heavy, and it isn't even that sharp unless you jabbed it into your leg somehow. At least, it never felt sharp enough for me to consider for use in my line of work, but I know some of my employees don't mind that stereotype and can actually use those gardening sheers extremely well.

        Of course, I'm not the only one running the show when it comes to the business; there is the other cofounder, Darkness, or D for short. He's actually really talkative, not just towards me, but to everyone. Then again, he's probably seen all of us at our worst, so he knows us best. He helps get information to use for later; he doesn't even need other people to work with him. D is kinda everywhere at once, so it isn't all that bad working with him, especially since he's the gentlest being I know. Just don't mention his sisters around him; they're not all fond with each other, let alone when it comes to him.

        As for me, I have as many workers out there as the population cut in half at any given point. When there were a few thousand people present, it was easy to keep track of their timelines; now, there's more people born a minute than I could keep up with later down the road. But recruitment won't be happening for a little while yet, especially since we just had that not too long ago. So for now, it’d be better for me to handle the more troublesome clients and let the new recruits handle those that are simpler in comparison.

        Normally, I would employ a secretary to ensure that everything was in order once the date of meeting approaches. However, the previous one was not exactly what we were looking for, considering they were not allowing certain persons to meet with my employees or myself (specifically the younger audience; some folk don’t always understand how to deal with those ones in particular). So until that role can be filled, I have to file the paperwork and get the harder-to-meet clients in my schedule. Lots of overtime, but at least things get done.

        In the midst of setting up a first date with a client, I received a message from one of my younger workers. It was a journal that landed in front of me with a thud. They could just manifest a sticky note or something along those lines, but at least there were records I could read up on whenever it got sent back to me at a future time. The name on the inside cover was Melinda; she was nice, only a couple decades of experience behind her. Not a bad worker, really, but she did not stick out that much, either. At least the jobs she did got done.

        D wants a meeting with you ‘bout your next meeting. Would the normal place work for you? The note was written in one of the middle pages of the slightly worn down journal. She kept it well preserved, that’s for sure. But it figured that D wanted to meet about the situation in regards to the next meet-and-greet. Perhaps it was about time to visit him again; he only reported in four times a normal human year, so it figured that he would want to visit. Since he always knew where my agents were at any given point, this kind of communication between her and D was not uncommon.

        Normal place and time is preferred. Today if at all possible. -Death I wrote underneath the original note and tossed the journal into the air. It vanished just as it touched where a normal ceiling would be. In reality, it was just a gaping void where the rest of the universe was imprinted, Earth at its center. It was a quick reference to where everything and everyone was at any given point, though I know Melinda would cringe at the sight of it. It overwhelmed most people to know where everything was, but I had grown used to it over the millennia. It was the only part of the job that was “normal” to me.

        But enough stargazing; if I was to get to the meeting with D on time, I would need to get myself together. Normally, whatever other people saw me as would do just fine, but for occasions like this, witness testimony had to be consistent, otherwise people would go mad wondering who or what I was. I would rather not send someone to their premature meeting with one of my employees; that would be difficult to explain to them and I would inevitably have to set the record straight with everyone. That was a headache I would rather avoid.

        I stood in front of the hole in my wall and focused on myself. I had to build a body out of nothing, after all, but thanks to D’s insight in the past, I knew I could mimic the look of another person and get away with it, since visual copies of a person exist on a normal basis. I imagined myself as someone a bit younger; few people would suspect an innocent face to be the same one that belonged to the thing that many people feared, to one degree or another. Once I had the image set up, I headed through the hole, prepared to meet with my coworker in whatever schemes and information he had to deliver to me.