The message system refreshed as Archibald stared at the screen. Seventeen separate reports, detailing the various issues with the system. Seventeen reports on how their ‘experiment’ was moving along. Seventeen messages, all marked unread.
Archibald was tired of wasting his time. It had been weeks since Tatiya ripped him from his comfortable job and placed him here, and he hadn’t seen a member of the Afterlife since. He’d tried messaging some of his old friends at the office, but the only messages that got through were the ones he sent directly to the board.
And not a single one had been read.
Screw it, he thought to himself as he stared at the blank email opened on his monitor. He closed the program and wiped away the visualization of the computer interface. If they have no interest in this system anymore, then I’ll run it myself. Screw their reports.
He paced to his bookshelf, one of the few things that had been transported to this new plane of existence, and withdrew a worn leather-bound book. Recorded inside were his thoughts about the system. How to improve things. How to run the system better. Hell, how to run the Afterlife better. Archibald was done trying to be a good little employee.
If they want to see an experiment, I’ll show them an experiment. I’ll show them what it looks like to be efficient.
He sat back at his desk and spread open the book. The pages projected around him, surrounding him with a concentration of his best ideas. He spread his hands across the desktop and a visualization of a keyboard appeared beneath his fingertips. A flashing cursor marked the starting point on the page.
Where to start…
Archibald spent hours - or days, one could never tell - debating the question. How do you make the end result fair? He could serve as judge for each individual situation-a God can always make more time after all-but that would be an endless amount of work.
Could end up pretty biased, too. I’ve seen the systems some backwoods Gods have devised.
Things were constantly dying in convoluted ways and their lives ended up an interwoven spaghetti of actions. A merit-based Afterlife was the optimal ideal, where the actions of one’s life were weighed at their death and the balance in turn, decided the next destination of the soul. Those measurements were always so arbitrary, though. Perspective is critical, a crime to one person might be an act of mercy to another.
I could balance the difference in opinion for any given choice… Let the perspectives weigh against each other, with the stronger side earning credit…
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
As he thought, a long, white beard grew from his chin and a glass of wine materialized on his desk. Archibald absentmindedly stroked his beard and sipped on his wine, contemplating the biggest question in the Afterlife.
What was the best way to properly serve souls after their deaths?
He pulled up a feed of a random individual on the list Tatiya had left him. Names had jumped around chaotically in the last couple weeks. Few remained from the first time he’d looked at the list. On screen, a faintly familiar dragon worked through the anguish of losing her clan while trying to raise a newborn and teach her the ways of her heritage.
Yes… maybe an entry modifier… start with a higher base score the more difficult your birth… or maybe scale up the awarded credit for each good decision based on the counter influences on the individual making the decision…
As he worked, sliders began to form in front of Archibald. He adjusted them and watched simulations of their effects on the world below.
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“Is he still sending reports?” asked Board Member Three. She hid her face behind a fan, only her eyes displaying any emotion to the rest of the board.
“Seventeen of them so far, more than we expected,” replied Board Member Five, Tatiya. “However, just this afternoon, he seemed to grow tired of our silence.”
“Seems the true test has finally started then,” Board Member Three said. “He took longer than expected. Are you sure he is an actual God candidate?”
“I’ll admit, he was more trusting than expected. Most snatch authority the moment they stop feeling our gaze,” Tatiya said. “That said, he has a good mind. There was no way he’d let a mortal take up the mantle of God.”
Board Member Three nodded. The rest of the members had skipped the meeting, deciding there were more important matters to attend to. An unending expansion of the universe did tend to keep one busy.
“As long as he doesn’t disrupt the development of the other candidates in the world he controls, let’s just let this play out,” said Board Member Three as she shut her files and rose to leave. Tatiya followed suit.
“I think he’ll end up producing far more competent talent than the other experiments we have running,” Tatiya said with a smirk on her face.
“Why do you say that?” asked Board Member Three.
“He’s invested in that world,” Tatiya explained. The pair strode to the door and exited into an ethereal hallway. “It was his home world before his promotion into Afterlife Management, and he’s seeded it with quite a few interesting characters.”
“Sounds like you put him there on purpose, then,” responded Board Member Three ominously. “You know we aren’t supposed to tamper with the experiments. This could cost you.”
“It was a worthwhile risk,” Tatiya replied. “And when my subordinates control the smoothest running departments of the universe, there will be little standing in the way of my continued ascension.”
Board Member Three glared at Tatiya. After a tense staredown, the senior ranking administrator stepped back, and disappeared into the fog of the Afterlife.