Aylsh'r and the Afterlife

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Aylsh'r has a new job, in Purgatory. It comes with a 6000-year probationary period, meaning no "intervention rights" until he qualifies. For now, all he can do is watch. The afterlife isn't what he expected but one of his bosses is about to demonstrate an Earthly theory, in practice.

Submitted: August 09, 2017

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Submitted: August 09, 2017

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Aylsh'r sat at his desk and rearranged the pencils in his caddy, the paperless office was still a myth it would seem. He swung from side to side in his chair taking in the dull, grey cubicle around him and set his eyes on the globe in front of him. He should do some work. Aylsh'r opened the drawer to his right and removed an ornate brass spyglass. He twiddled it between his fingers before raising it to his right eye. He scanned around the scurrying “termites” under his gaze. His stomach made a brief roll at his attitude to his former brethren before his mind corrected it. Detachment was a requirement of his new position. An emotional investment made the job impossible, Aylsh'r had 6 billion charges under his “supervision”. He couldn't afford to play favourites his boss did not like that one bit.

 

After a few aimless sweeps, Aylsh'r settled on a pair that sat together. He turned the bottom section of the spyglass counter-clockwise, to zoom in. They were an elderly couple sat together feeding the ducks, he was telling his wife about a trip he was planning. The sky was blue and the sun sat high in the heavens. Aylsh'r could almost hear the ducks quacking for more scraps. He watched as the woman clutched at her chest and then fell limp beside the love of her life.

 

“You coming to lunch, bud?” Loptr, from accounts, popped his head over the top of the cubicle.

 

“Nah, lost my appetite. Had another one die on me”, Aylsh'r sighed. Loptr clicked his tongue at the roof of his mouth.

 

“Yeah, sucks not to have intervention privileges. How long you got left?” Aylsh'r didn't want to talk about the five thousand, seven hundred, and sixty-two years before he'd finish his probationary period. Right now, he was brooding. He made his excuses for lunch and sat with his head resting on his left knuckle, elbow on his desk. He spun the globe around with his right hand, idly, and adults across the Northern Hemisphere watched their summer holidays evaporate into thin air and cursed the onset of Christmas. They'd swear the summer holidays lasted forever when they were younger!

 

Aylsh'r fiddled with the filigree work on his spyglass before resuming his work. It was a balmy summertime in the Southern Hemisphere, cloudless sky, melting ice creams, and temperatures you could cook an egg on the pavement with.

 

“Storm's coming.” Loptr appeared from nowhere, nodded to the globe and pointed to the bottom of it. Aylsh'r couldn't see how that would happen, the weather seemed perfect. Loptr smiled a little too widely.

 

“How do you know that?” Aylsh'r screwed his eyes up. “You don't work for Accounts do you?” He'd known something was off the first time they'd met. Damn!

 

“Nope.” Loptr shook his head slowly, still grinning. “I work for one of the bosses upstairs, Kaos.” He plonked his fat finger down on the globe towards the top left, grinning even wider. And a butterfly took flight.

 


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