The Uncertainty of Death

by Y. K. Greene

  “I have always been what each person needed most to see at their death. It was a small comfort and usually all I could give. Today I lacked even that. I followed the Path as always, it took me to the dying and they looked at this face. And none of them seemed to care.” A single tear leaked out of her newly opened eye and caught on her upper lip. “I am trapped in this form that you gave me and it is broken and strange. It bloody leaks!” Mitei swiped at the offending tear with one hand. “And it hurts all over, all of the time. And it seems to have a mind, no, several minds of its own. And then, just when I thought I was going to get a few hours of rest at an office, the Path dumps me here and you, somehow, find a way to make everything worse.”

  Mitei gave a surprised wail and started crying in earnest which seemed to provoke another stream of magnificent swearing; this time swimming in and out of English so fast that Leo couldn’t follow it. For some reason the whole scene struck him as funny and though he managed not to laugh Leo had to smile at the spectacle before him. Mitei was still a wreck, most of the wounds had closed themselves but her suit was just as ruined as before and now her face was streaked with silvery tears and squished up in comical ways by some of the strange things she was saying.

  Looking at her so nonplussed, it was hard for Leo to find even a trace of the loathing of a minute earlier. He couldn’t hold back the laughter when he was caught off guard by a venomous curse in English about Io’s great lactating teats and was surprised to realize he was pleased to see Mitei smile cautiously at him through the remainder of her tears.

  “I bet I know some of the things your body has been bugging you about,” Leo said standing. “Part of it wants to rest and another part is complaining loudly for food right?”

  She nodded up at him and started to rise but Leo motioned for her to stay sitting. “I tried eating some chocolates at the London office but that just seemed to make things worse.”

  “Alright then, I’ll go make you something that should shut up at least one of those nagging voices for a bit.” He started for the kitchen and looked back at her. “You stay put on that sofa ok? I don’t want you popping out of here on an empty stomach.”

  Mitei nodded her ascent and Leo headed into the kitchen to throw the steaks into the pan.

  ***

  Mitei leaned against the back of the couch, trying to get comfortable. Finding it mildly difficult to do, since the couch had no arm rests or even any fluffy pillows, she settled for lying down. Getting up was out of the question, with the Path being so out of sorts lately she was likely to find herself half way around the globe the second her toe hit the floor and right now she was curious about what Leo was up to.

  From the kitchen there was only clanking and sizzling sounds, an occasional curse sprinkled in for good measure, there was a rising smell of something cooking and for a moment she puzzled over what it could be, but it soon resolved itself into the smell of coffee. There was an indignant sound from her mid-region and she turned over to poke at her stomach. Poking did not seem to reproduce the sound, but she was sure it had come from around there. She brought her fist down into her stomach and this did produce a sound, though the sound of all the air rushing out of her did not seem to match at all the grumble she had heard a moment before. What is going on with me? The thought was interrupted by a particularly ominous series of crashes and bangs from the kitchen and unpredictable path or not, Mitei decided it was probably a good idea to get in there before Leo hurt himself terribly somehow.

  Leo was hunched over inside of a cabinet beside the stove; something was sizzling in a pan on top of it and perched way too precariously close to the edge for Mitei’s comfort. Moving quickly she shoved it more firmly on top of the burner, getting a sharp pain for her efforts. She gasped and stepped back even quicker than she had stepped forward, bumping into the center island as she did. Leo hearing her startled and bumped his head on the roof of the cabinet; there was the sound of something falling over in there and his fervent cursing.

  Her attention absorbed by her still smarting hand Mitei did not notice the tirade, though she did notice how the pan on the stove jumped when he hit his head on the cabinet. If it had been closer to the edge she was sure it would have come crashing down on top of him as well. Of course, if it had still been closer to the edge I would not have touched the thing and then made a sound that startled Leo in the first place. She shook her head and could not help but smile even as she regarded her hand; it was almost red with little white spots rising all over it.

  “I am sorry to startle you Leo,” she said, “sorry to interrupt whatever you are doing down there as well. But, I-I seem to have burnt myself. Yes, I think it is a burn.”

  This time when she spoke Leo extracted himself quickly from the cabinet without hitting his head or knocking anything over, though he still came out swearing. She smiled as he descended on her hand, the sensation not exactly pleasant but seeing his expression when he popped out of the cabinet had been; then he was grasping her hand gently pulling the fingers back to get a good look and suddenly it was the unpleasant sensation that she was concerned with again, she hissed in a breath.

  “I guess that hurts then?” Leo said, with his head bent over her hand like that she could not see her own fingers, probably a blessing.

  “Is this what pain is?”

  He looked up at her, a lock of hair hanging over one eye made it hard to read his expression. Did I say the wrong thing again? Things are not usually this difficult with my secretaries.

  “Considering how bad this is, yeah I’d say this is what pain is.” He poked her, gently in the middle of her palm. Mitei hissed and tried to snatch her hand back. “Yup, that’s a typical pain response.”

  Straightening up, he went to the refrigerator, picking up a towel on the way. “Will that heal on its own?”

  Looking down at her palm again Mitei could see that it was still a rather odd color, the white spots seemed actually bigger rather than smaller. “I do not know.”

  Leo returned with a dish towel full of ice and took another look at her palm, then sighed and rubbed the rolled up towel between his hands. “I can’t tell, it might take some time, but you said this wasn’t healing but part of the immortal invulnerable thing?” She nodded and he pressed the towel into her open hand, there was that sharp sensation again but then the soothing chill of the ice seeped through and she smiled at him, surprised. “This should help with the pain. Give it a few minutes and if it’s not healing on its own we’ll have to put some stuff on it.”

  He straightened quickly and turned back to the stove, poking whatever it was on there with a fork and turning it over with a grunt. “You should go sit down, on the other side of the counter where you can’t get burned.”

  Mitei did as she was told, settling into one of the high stools. Not high enough to keep her feet from touching the ground though, so she put them up on the bottom rung of the stool and watched Leo tap the pans handle with a finger. Just a tap and he withdrew his finger quickly, sticking it in his mouth for a moment.

  “Did you touch this?”

  “Yes,” she said, picking the towel up out of her hand to check those bumps again, not really paying attention as she replied. “Was that bad?”

  There was an exasperated huff from Leo on the other side of the island and she looked up from her palm. “You don’t know much do you?”

  He made the comment over his shoulder and was not looking at her as if he did not expect her to reply. But, “no Leo, I do not know much of anything.”

  He turned from the stove to give her a searching look then. Unsure what he was searching for she met his gaze, expecting more questions but he did not ask anything. Just stood there looking at her for a long moment, then went back to poking the meat on the stove. For a while it was relatively quiet in the kitchen as he bustled around, doing rather cryptic but somehow soothing things. Relishing this peaceful time to herself she played a mental game, trying to identify everything in the room that he touc
hed or used in as many languages as she could before he moved onto another object.

  There were a lot of small things she did not seem to quite have the right words for, or things that seemed to just be larger versions of other things she was not sure she had the right names for because it seemed odd that there could be so many versions of fork that had different names for each but not spoons, when each of the spoons were obviously different in shape and function from each other. All in all a good opportunity to brush up on her language skills, but as she watched him (rush, bustle?) yes bustle about the kitchen she found herself being distracted from her studies.

  It was unusual that she had the chance to watch anyone besides herself work at anything. Never once had she ever seen a secretary prepare more than the end stages of a meal or snack for her. She had seen Megan crochet a blanket once, it had been a particularly good winter and the woman had taken to bringing her crochet in while Mitei had practiced her reading.

  It had been Shakespeare that winter, at Megan’s request, sonnets mostly. After the usual meetings Megan would come in with a bag full of colorful yarn and the partially finished blanket, they would get comfortable on the overstuffed chairs and Mitei would read while Megan would crochet. She had thought about asking the woman to teach her, but there had not been time and for the most part Mitei preferred her other activities. But watching her make that blanket had been really nice, it had made that particular blanket seem special to Mitei in a way that few things did.

  Watching Leo bustle around the kitchen now, was also really nice. Warming, even with the ice still clutched in one hand, Mitei smiled absently and looked at her hand again. The palm was returning to the previous pale shade, is this what they call my “normal” color from now on? The white spots fading as well, her hand seemed quiet cold and that painful sensation seemed completely replaced with the chill. She set the ice aside and flexed her fingers, a bit stiff but definitely not as painful as they had been.

  “So, you’re still doing that invulnerable thing,” Leo said setting a plate down in front of her. There was a piece of that meat on it and a steaming potato.

  “Are you going to be mad at me again?”

  “Not until after you’ve eaten at least,” he handed her some utensils wrapped in a piece of paper towel. “You know how to use these things right?”

  She smiled at him and nodded. “What is this stuff?”

  He laughed from the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a couple glasses out of a cabinet. “Aw, come on, I know I over cooked it a bit but it’s still recognizable as a steak. Mostly anyway,” he set down the glasses on the island and winked at her, before turning back to the cabinets, “here, this should make it more palatable.”

  This time he came back with a bottle of red wine and filled both glasses. She smiled at him, but waited till he sat down at the island and started tearing into his steak before she touched hers. Just to be on the safe side she took her queues from him, cutting her potato open and slathering it with butter and bits of bacon, using her fork to pull the tender meat away from the brown skin and mixing it with the melting butter and bacon before finally taking a bite. Oh, my – it was good, rich with the butter and crunchy with the bacon. She could almost feel that mouthful hit her stomach, not exactly in an unpleasant way; rather she could feel the sharp pain that had been bothering her there seem to subside a little as the food hit her.

  Next a bite of the steak and a sip from the wine glass to wash it down. Leo might have thought it over done, but she thought it was wonderful, the flesh was tender and there were these little bits that had been blackened in the pan that seemed to burst with flavor in her mouth. The wine was not a surprise, she had had wine often enough before. The people in some of her European offices seemed to prefer to see her sipping wine now and again to coffee or tea. It was not nearly as good as what she could get at the France offices actually, but what did surprise her was the way it hit her head. By the time she had finished the food and the wine she felt slightly fuzzy. Both more alert than she had been before the food and more tired.

  It had definitely done the trick though, one of those conflicting voices that her body had seemed to have earlier was definitely silent now. So she would need to remember to eat next time she felt those urges she had noticed seemed to associate with that voice. Next time? The idea of having this particular feeling happen again was not exactly pleasant. How am I going to explain this to the other secretaries, this sudden need for full meals instead of candy and cheese?

  “Feeling better?” Somehow she had forgotten about Leo, “you shouldn’t be hungry after that but I might have some ice-cream or something if you want dessert.”

  “Hungry?” Was that what that was? “No, I do not think I am, hungry, anymore. Thank you Leo.”

  “No problem,” he said, though after all the cursing and fussing he had done earlier she suspected that could not exactly be true, and began clearing the dishes. “What happens now?”

  Good question, “I do not know. There are other things that this form seems to be telling me…”

  “But you don’t know what they are?” He put the dishes in the dishwasher and then leaned on the other side of the island, meeting her hazel gaze with his purple one, seeming to search for something in them again. She took the moment to study him as well, his face seemed a mask that she could not read, but the eyes – the eyes seemed – well she was not sure what they seemed. She tilted her head to the side in frustration; some things always seemed to slip her ability to understand. “You’re probably tired.”

  She blinked, startled, and took a mental inventory. Tired was something familiar or at least she thought so, but whatever this great beast was inside her right now it seemed both similar and completely different to what she was used to. “Are you sure?”

  “Nope,” Leo said and smiled. “But it stands to reason that if you’ve been on your feet all day you’re probably dead tired now.”

  She tilted her head, and then nodded. If it stood to human reason perhaps it was right, “what now then?”

  “I suppose you go home and get some sleep.”

  “Oh,” somehow that did not seem to be the answer she wanted to hear. It was dark outside the windows of the kitchen; it would still be dark at some of the offices too. No one to notice if she came in now and slept at one of them, though she had probably missed several morning meetings, she reached for her List and it came to her hand properly. It was blank, which could mean she had a few hours for sleep or it could mean she had next no time at all.

  Grasping the short empty scroll in both hands, one top one bottom, she took a moment to try to find her internal List. The paper scroll was not really for her, but for the people she came to and for her employees. A manifestation that some needed to see in order to not feel like they had been singled out unfairly, in reality she did not really need the list. The names and times on it where already inside of her, deep inside her, a part that she was usually not aware of, subconscious or maybe more like a muscle she used without needing to know how it worked or even exactly where it was. She reached for it now, filtering and flexing it, trying to force the List to appear before her a bit in advance.

  Eyes unfocused, she did not notice the List begin to glow with a black light. Did not see the names, times, dates and locations appearing on it; just felt them in that deep part of herself. The scroll grew in her hands, from a few empty inches to a good foot of fine writing. Because there where appointments of course, lots of them, in the next eight hours several thousand people around the planet where supposed to die. Peacefully, no more disasters, not in the next few hours, the light faded from the list as her vision cleared. Only the names themselves glowed now, a faint shimmer almost like the sheen of fresh ink, but a little too silver.

  Focused on the List and the task at hand, Mitei could not see the look on Leo’s face, the warring horror and fascination in his eyes. Now grasping the filled list before her one handed, she began to shunt the names to the va
rious offices. It was not something she liked to do from a distance, though she had done it often enough on a daily bases that it was fairly easy. She pulled a few hairs and used them to reach along the Path to the offices. It was not exactly a Pall, but it was unpleasantly close, as she set the assignments in their proper offices and felt the accompanying drain on her being that was the various agents being assigned a small amount of her ability for a short period of time, just long enough to fulfill their appointments and only for their appointments.

  The scroll rolled up in her fist, shrinking, the hairs in her hand seemed to dissolve into her palm. She looked up at Leo then, “I think I have time to sleep now.” It did not seem like the matter was entirely up to either of them though, because she slumped off the stool, exhausted.

  Leo swore and came around the island fast to catch her. “Well, I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere tonight,” was the last thing she heard before her eyes closed completely.

  ***

  Jules sat and looked at the business card that Mitei had given her five days ago. All around her in her students union the other students went about their lunches, or studied, in more than half instances they did a mixture of both, they all still seemed to manage some extra time for being social. She was seated alone where all the others seemed to have gathered in noisy clumps, all the better to contemplate this improbable card.

  When she’d been at her father’s farm, shortly after Mitei had handed to her, she’d been sure that the card had referred to an office located in Harrisburg, probably the closest city of reasonable size to the farm. But now that she was back at her college in Lehigh, the location of the office was in Philadelphia. Other than that the card was unremarkable. It didn’t even have the name of the company on it, just an office address and the office hours on one side, nothing on the back.