Strange Things Happen in High Places

“How is it complicated?”

“Oh, you know, destiny, karma, kismet, the big man’s ultimate plan. Boring corporate stuff.”

“Okay… well, why can’t we just ‘delete’ bad souls so bad things don’t happen?” I say, proving I can also do air quotes. “That seems in our realm of ‘clicking.”

“We don’t have a button for that.”

“And another department does?”

“You’re learning.”

“Great.”

“Yup, just another reason why they,” he points upstairs, “decided to cut out all ‘creative’ aspects of our job. Now they use algorithms. Sure, let’s let the AI have all the visionary freedom here. That sounds very promising.”

“Gee,” I say. I shouldn’t have asked.

“Now, back to the matter at hand,” he scolds. “We can’t leave Elenor walking around as a soulless body bag. We have to get rid of her completely and that’s because…?”

“Because she is a zombie and will… eat other people’s brains?”

“What is wrong with you? No. Let’s just say a soulless body bag falls through the cracks, and it happens far more frequently than you’d expect,” he whispers the last part, “or worse, the bag falls victim to your pity. Then you’d get what we call ‘crooked embodiment.’ They become the whackadoos. You know, Alzheimer’s, dementia, lunatics, drug addicts. We want to avoid long-term suffering for everyone involved. It’s no bueno.”

I look at him, somewhat dumbfounded.

“I’m trying to help you, here. You should really be taking notes,” he says while slamming down a pen and paper in front of me.

“Right.” I scribble, “Body bag, brain-eating, no bueno, el smartass-o.”

“And say your scrawny, little finger tries to click a soul back into Elenor after we removed her old one. Trying to save her from becoming crooked or killed. It’s not going to work. So don’t try it. The new soul will bounce out of her and stick to some kid in the vicinity. Kids are susceptible to anything, even years after we’ve attached their new soul. They’re vulnerable.” He spits again, partly missing the trash can this time.

“Two souls in one body?”

“Yup, that’s the worst. That’s when you get little kids saying, ‘Mommy- mommy- I can see the bubbles coming up from my mouth. I’m in the water. I see the bridge above me. The day I died mommy, the day I drove off the bridge and died.” He tries to imitate a sweet, little girl’s voice but ends up sounding like someone punched him in the throat. Did I punch him in the throat? “We don’t want mommy being hysterical and thinking reincarnation exists.”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing here, isn’t it?” My voice lightens at the thought.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh.”

Eyebrows whips his head back to the computer and clicks randomize again. “Time to kill Elenor.” A list of possible causes of death scroll rapidly next to her picture. He clicks the mouse again.

“What did we land on, Ms. Elenor?”

“Choking!” I say, coughing up the word as it solidifies on the screen.