Of all the gods, only death does not desire gifts. - Aeschylus

  Medical was surprisingly exactly how I expected it to be.

  Gildebrak hurried me out of the offices on the same path we’d taken on my very first visit and I was half expecting us to hop on the tram, but she tugged me through one of the many doors leading out of that massive congress area. There were just as many people walking around as there had been the last time I was there, affirming that there indeed wasn’t a sleep cycle in the Dead Offices. Or at least not one that everyone stuck to.

  But almost as soon as we were through that door, we were in a large, white room that could only be described as an ER lobby, but the cleanest and blandest I’d ever seen. No art on the walls. No televisions in the corner, just seats and a reception desk behind glass. I knew why human waiting rooms needed that, but it did make me curious why they’d have a protective barrier for an intake nurse for Reapers.

  “Ey, got some talon scores from a level five phantasm for clean up,” Gildebrak said, giving a little salute without so much as stopping. So, while it may have been like a human emergency room in looks, clearly there was a stark difference in function. Plus, I was pretty sure that no one was going to ask for my insurance information. “What room you want us in?”

  “Seven!” the woman behind the desk called back, not even looking up from her book. I tried to focus on the cover to see what she was reading, but whenever I thought I was just able to catch the title, my eyes would slide away, and I’d have to recapture my train of thought.

  Freaky.

  “Seven. Thanks, Florence!”

  “Just keep your head attached, Gildie.”

  Gildie? That was a new one. Despite Gildebrak’s rather flippant nature with everyone, it seemed that most still spoke to her with the same business casual professionalism which helped to make everything seem so banal.

  “Tryin’ my best!”

  And then we were through the double doors and standing in an insanely long hall that stretched on for at least two dozen doors on each side. It was ridiculous in a very Dead Office kind of way, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as Gildebrak lead me toward door number seven.

  “Something funny.”

  “Just this place,” I answered honestly as we stepped into what looked exactly like a doctor’s waiting room. I’d been in hospitals for a lot of my life, especially toward the end of my mother’s life, and I found some of the similarities fascinating and some of the differences amusing. Like whoever had built these things had wanted to be accurate in how they reflected life on earth, but they’d probably never actually been there themselves.

  It was yet again another thing that just made me wonder about the why of it all. Why make things similar to how they were on earth if they weren't going to be entirely accurate? Who did it help to have those similarities? Would it help to have those differences? Was I thinking too much about it? Possibly. But it was the only thing that distracted me from wondering what the induction hall was and what exactly was in store for me there.

  “Is this going to hurt?”

  “Hmmm, no, I don't think so. Most wound healing doesn't. Occasionally they'll have to extract something if a lost soul really gets something into you, but your wounds are pretty superficial.”

  I shook my head, trying not to get distracted at wondering what exactly a lost soul could get into me. “No. I meant this making me a Reaper thing. That's what we're doing in the induction chamber right?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Oh! Yeah, we are. And no, it shouldn't really hurt. Everyone's experience is a little bit different, but I've never heard of anyone being too shaken up by it. It helps that you've already dealt with multiple spirits. Most of us don't have that advantage when we get the call.”

  “The call?”

  “Right, right, I forget that you’ve just… um… not gone through most of the steps the rest of us have.” I knew that she didn't mean anything by it, but wow, what a way to make me feel even more like an outsider. “You see, for almost every Reaper here, we’ve all been able to see the dead since we were old enough to understand what other people were. Some of us see them as monsters, some of us see them as they were common and some only see echoes of people that once were, but no actual spirits.

  “But all of us, at one point or another has had the ability to both see and talk to the dead. That's how we get found actually.”

  “Wait, so every Reaper naturally has the ability to interact with the dead?” Now that was truly mind boggling to me. I couldn't imagine being five and seeing a phantasm running down the street.

  “Yup! We don’t know what causes it, or why, but that’s why the very first Lord of the Dead made the first Reapers long, long ago. Long before the rest of the gods showed up on Earth.

  “The first Lord of the Dead declared that they were a natural part of the cycle of life and death, and not to be ignored and nobody disagreed. There weren’t even Dead Offices way back then, so I have no idea how being a Reaper worked at all. I guess they just… manually tried to guide people to their afterlives?”

  Again, with every question answered, a dozen more queued up to be asked. But, as usuall, I never got the chance ask, as what I assumed was a doctor stepped in, and I found myself going through what felt a lot like a general checkup.

  “You’re a bit anemic, could use some more protein, and I would like you to start a Vitamin D regiment,” the doctor said as they stepped back from me, placing their stethoscope back about their neck.

  “How do you know all that?” I asked. While none of it was surprising, that kind of information usually required a blood test. Or at least it did on earth.

  “I scanned you,” they said like that answered anything. Clearly, I needed to be a lot more specific with my questions in the Dead Offices.

  “This is Asclepius,” Gildebrak said, thankfully picking up on my confusion. “Being able to tell what’s wrong with people without any special tools is kind of his thing.”

  Wait… I knew that name. Scouring my mind, I remembered something about a demi-god who was such a good healer that…

  “Didn’t Zeus kill you with a thunderbolt?” I asked the moment the thought came to me.

  “That’s what the myths say,” the man answered, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “But in reality, I was just enlisted here as the first medic for the Reapers.”

  “There were Reapers all the way in ancient Greece?” I asked. “What even needed Reaping?” For some reason I figured that the issues with souls getting lost was a more modern thing, historically speaking. It would make sense that our natural processes were being disrupted on all levels by technology, density of population, and the incursion of monsters into our realm.

  “There has been a need for Reapers to guide souls for almost as long as man has had souls.”

  “Really?” That didn’t sound right.

  “I suppose I’m simplifying things,” the doctor answered. “It’s really since the dawn of society, but otherwise, yes. Don’t worry, though, I have kept up with my continuing education throughout the years. I’m not going to put any leeches on you.”

  That was a whole boat and a half to think about. If I could just take a six month vacation and rot in my bed then maybe, maybe I could ponder through everything that had been revealed to me in the past couple days. But I didn’t have that kind of time, so instead I just had to nod and laugh before Gildebrak started hauling me off again.

  Time for the induction chambers, or whatever they had called it. It seemed like I was finally going to become a full-fledged Reaper!

  It was exciting, but also terrifying. I still felt the conviction about helping the dead blooming in my chest, but nerves were starting to ramp up more and more. I’d only had a peak of this whole supernatural world so far, and I already felt so out of depth. And they wanted to give me more responsibilities? Insight? Power? It seemed like a mistake.

  I liked myself well enough; I’d fought a lot of metaphorical ghosts to end up being a person with a relatively sunny disposition, but the truth of the matter was that I was just a waitress-barista-wannabe fashion designer. I didn’t do college. I’d barely finished high school. Who was I to guide anyone? Let alone the dead!

  Such thoughts continued to swirl through my head as we moved back through the main traversal room. I thought we were heading back to the Dead Offices, but instead, we cut all the way across to a different set of doors.

  The change was so stark it was jolting. While the massive room that worked as a sort of hub to the tram wasn’t loud by any means, it was lively with the sound of so many people moving through it. Footsteps. Soft talking. People breathing. Briefcases clanking gently against the side of strong legs. Watches ticking.

  But the moment we stepped through the doors? Silence. Complete and utter silence. It was so quiet that I could hear my heartbeat in my own ears, my breathing bordering on comically belabored.