Strange Things Happen in High Places

“Don’t mess up, new guy,” a voice drones over my cubicle wall. My eyes dart to the top of it, though all I see are the hints of two feral animals slinking out of view. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, waiting for them to attack. “Did you hear me, new guy?” My head snaps up. The source of the voice shows itself, revealing that the two feral animals are actually attached to a man’s face, right where his eyebrows should be.

“W-what did you say?” I squeak out.

“I said, don’t mess up,” Eyebrows repeats.

“Yeah, thanks.” I force out a half smile.

Appeased, he lowers himself out of sight with a stenchy grin on his lips. It lingers.

I redirect my eyes to my computer screen. It stares back with a bouncing, rudimentary screensaver, taunting me with distant memories, nothing but fog in between. I wiggle the mouse and click the only icon on the desktop. It’s a map of 9 square miles. An unspecified city with a population of 24,000.

That’s a lot of souls.

Ding. The sound erupts from my computer in an ear-splitting pitch.

“Jesus,” I mumble. My jaw unclenches just in time for more dings to fire off from other cubicles. Ding, ding, ding…

Twelve red dots have appeared on my map. What does that mean again? I look back at my notes. The scribbles don’t look like mine. Fortunately, that means I can actually read them. I scan my finger across the paper for useful information. Red dots indicate today’s… deaths? Okay. I hover my mouse over each of them, causing small windows to pop up.

“Old Age… Heart Attack… Coma… Stroke… Old age… Old age,” I mutter. Fair enough. All causes of death are natural. It happens.

Ding. Now what? My mind reverts back to the training this morning. It wasn’t thorough enough. Ding. More dots, green ones this time. I flip through my notes. These indicate today’s… births?

Twenty-seven of them. Ding. More green dots. Ding. “Well, this town sure is busy.” Ding.

I didn’t drink enough coffee for this. But wait, did I drink coffee? I check my breath. Can’t tell. If I had, I would have peed by now. I don’t remember getting up. I look down at my pants, then roll my eyes. Like I could really pee myself in broad daylight – sober? Wait, is it daylight? There are no windows. Hopefully no one saw me checking for pee. I tap my fingers and look at my watch, though all that’s there is an unsightly pale spot.

“Big first day, huh?”

I jump. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

Eyebrows is peeking above our shared cubicle wall again. His big, lollipop eyes have morphed him into a life-sized jack in the box. Nonchalantly, he builds up the silence between us, twitching and staring at my nose. I wipe it, thinking it’s bleeding – something that is all too common for me.