I'm not sure how this moment happened. I can recount with imperfect clarity the actions I took that led to it, they just don't really explain anything. Afterall, how do you really describe the end of the world? It wasn't silent, that's for sure, and it wasn't heralded by screams and the death of millions. If anything it was extremely orderly. One morning I woke up to a phone call, I later learned that everyone in the world been interupted at that moment, some by bumping into a person, some recieved an email or message notification, apparently there was even one person who had a bird land on his hand while skydiving. I doubt the last one. It's not that it's impossible or evne implausable, it just makes too good a story and makes me suspicious. Or it would, if I wasn't the bird. 

You see, when I got that phone call it was to be interviewed for a job. Now I don't know what's going on in your lives as you're reading this but I was not happy with my career. Working third shift as the Janitorial crew for the local airport meant that I really wasted my education. So when opportunity knocks I said, "I'd love to come in for an interview. When" and promptly died. So did everything else. 

Of course that wasn't the end. We all wish there's something after death. Some of us hope for reincarnation, others dread it, and still more wish for absolution and are simply tired of living. Thus, it wasn't much of a surprise to find out that at least some of that was true. On the other hand, I did kind of expect a little hand holding. Perhaps an interview with an afterlife counselor or a court where I'm being judged by the Almighty. I definitely did not expect the afterlife to look like the lobby to a movie theatre. You know, large open areas, self-checkout ticket machines against the walls, and a large line full of vague existences too lazy or confused to use them who insist on meeting a person. 

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Normally, I'd have gotten on line as well, but I could literally feel the sheer annoyance as the being behind the counter reapeated themselves over and over again directing everyone I could see to the self-checkout machines. When I say literally I do mean it. For three thousand and five bucks in my bank account and a firm commitment to pay back the over one hundred thousand in student loans I could not have told you what they looked like, if they were male or female, black white, hispanic asian or if they were even humanoid let alone human. But I could feel with every forgotten sense the dead do not have that if I got on that line I would never get the job I was being interviewed for. So I didn't.

Instead I went to the machines, which immediatly lit up witohut seeming to recieve any input from me and provided me with a map. The map wasn't all that impressive, it only displayed one room, the lobby area. It clearly marked out the self-help kiosks, assisted afterlife counter and had faint footsteps printed leading directly across the room to a door on the opposite wall labled [Enter] or perhaps it was [Exit] by a glowing red neon sign above it. 

With grim resolve I championed forth. Or I would if I didn't have to wait in line as a shocking number of people were waiting to go through the door before me. A moment later it was finally my turn and as I pushed the bar I laughed at my anxiety as I realized that, for the first time in my existence, I had none.