Three knocks of a gavel rang out into still air. Callum’s eyes snapped open, having not realized he’d fallen asleep.

“All right. This session of pre-processing for Afterlife Assignment is now underway. Starting from the left side of the front row, would each candidate please step up to the desk one by one for screening. Come on now, you first.” The man sitting behind said desk coaxed the first person into coming forward. Name, date of birth, and manner of death were the primary questions asked, with some elaboration on the last point requested as needed.

Callum was in the back row, which gave him some time to look around and ponder his circumstances. He was in a moderately sized rectangular room with blank walls and a concrete floor. Four benches held ten people apiece, all facing the front of the room where a wooden desk was occupied by a professionally attired man. Each of the motley collection of people in the room were either looking around like him or quietly trying to ignore the fact that they were dead.

Callum cleaned his glasses off with his shirt— a nervous tic. Whatever we are now, it’s a pretty convincing simulation of being alive. The difference was still readily apparent to him, though; sensations were slightly muted, like the taste of canned fruits versus fresh ones. Being able to hold his breath indefinitely was also a dead giveaway.

He pinched the fabric of his t-shirt between his fingers. I guess I look the same as before... minus the bloodstains. His thoughts soured. He’d died, and nothing would change that. Although... there was an option.

The first person in the third row was called up.

Not long now. Callum forced himself to focus on what he would say. Specifically, what no one else in the room had said when ‘pre-processed’ thus far.

The words had just finished assembling in his mind when he was called.

“Next.”

Callum walked to the desk on slightly unsteady legs. Apparently being some kind of spiritual construct didn’t spare him from the physical symptoms of nervousness.

The man behind the desk pulled another legal-looking form out of nowhere with graceful ease, pen at the ready. “State and spell your name.”

“Callum Anderson.” He spelled it.

“Date of birth?”

Callum complied.

“Manner of death?”

“... Shot to death.”

The man nodded. “Do you know by whom?”

“No. He was an armed robber.”

The man nodded again. “Alright. You’ll be sent to unnatural causes, sector one— violent means. Walk through the door to your right and another personnel will assist your further.”

Callum stood still.

The man glanced up at him for the first time. “Did you hear me?”

Callum pushed his reservations out of mind. “I would like to petition for a return allowance.”

The man arched a brow. “Not that uncommon, given your situation. You are aware that the chance is still quite low, and that you will be required to bring your petition before the Arbitrator?”

“Yes.”

"Alright." The man jotted something down on Callum's form. "Step through the door, and you will be transferred to a waiting area where you will be assigned an adviser to help prepare your petition."

Callum did as instructed. The door was plain white and unremarkable, and opening it lead him to a rather generic lobby area. Near the back of the room sat a receptionist at a wooden desk identical to the one the pre-processor had used.

"Take a seat and your adviser will be here shortly," the woman called out to him.

He found his way to one of the squishier chairs. The weight of the situation was finally starting to settle on Callum's shoulders. He remembered the last hour of his life in far more vivid detail than he wanted.

An idle summer afternoon. School was on the horizon again. Callum finished reading a chapter of a book in the silence of his family's empty house. The main character was in trouble; he wanted to find out what happened next. He got up to get a glass of water and settle in.

The back door opened in the kitchen. It should have been locked. Callum watched as his surprise was reflected in the stranger's eyes. The stranger scrambled for something at his waistline. Callum turned to run. He needed to get his phone, a bat, anything. He needed to run.

Two shots. They were louder than anything he'd heard before.

Callum was lying on the floor. Air wouldn't enter his lungs no matter how hard he breathed. It was cold. It was getting dark.

His promise...

Three knocks of a gavel rang out.

Unsettled. Callum felt unsettled. He like that word; it put everything into one box so he could set it aside and think about the task at hand. Namely, getting a return time allowance. Never did he think one promise could mean so much to him, even if it was to Sarah...

"Mister Anderson?" Someone was standing over him.

Callum looked up. Hm... it appears every Afterlife Assignment employee is blandly professional. He figured there was probably more at play than just a dress code. This place was supposed to be the domain of the god of death, after all.

"Yes?"

Polite-and-professional male number two smiled. "I will be your adviser throughout your petitioning. If you would follow me, we'll move to a better location."

They walked out the same door Callum had used to enter the lobby, only this time it lead to a hallway.

"These rooms will allow us to take our time in preparing your petition." The man opened the third door on their right, motioning Callum in. "Once your statement has been written and you're ready for what comes next, you'll be given a rest period before presenting your request to the Arbitrator."

“... Okay.”

They sat down at opposite sides of a small table. If it weren’t for the carpet and lack of a one-way mirror, Callum could almost mistake the place for an interrogation room straight out of a police drama. Maybe the god of death is fond of bland furnishing?

The adviser pulled a pen and paper out of thin air, breaking Callum from his fugue. “First and foremost, we need to go over your time and manner of death more thoroughly. This will be the basis of your petition. The more unnatural and abrupt your death, the more likely you will be granted some return time, however brief it may be. If I believe your case to be a solid one, we’ll go over the rules of return time to further refine your argument. Now, what was the sequence of events leading directly to your passing?”

Callum gave the adviser a recap of that fateful afternoon.

The adviser nodded. “Yes, that fully qualifies as violent and rather abrupt. Almost entirely misfortune...” A copy of Callum’s pre-processing form appeared in his hand. “... and you were, hm, sixteen? Yes, you have a fairly strong case for return allowance. My condolences.”

Callum watched the adviser scribble down notes. He privately wondered about the circumstances. The adviser was being nonchalant, sure, but why was Callum taking this so well? He felt that dying should be more distressing. He’d left Sarah behind! What had the world come to?

The adviser finished whatever he was writing. “Alright. Thank you for your patience. Based on your account of things, you should be able to petition for at least half an hour of return time. If your argument is particularly well composed, you might be able to push for an hour.” He peered at Callum. “Before we start discussing the specifics, however, I need to go over the rules. Are you aware of what a return allowance is?”

That’s easy. “Yes. It’s a period of time granted to a worthy soul so that they can settle affairs with the living.”

“Good. The first key point is that it is a finite amount of time. You will petition for an allowance and it will or will not be granted. Should it be granted, the living listed in the petition will be notified and you will be allowed to interact with them in the living world for the allotted time. No more, no less. The Arbitrator takes these agreements very seriously.” He pulled another sheet of paper out of nothing. “The second key point is that any actions you take during your return can and will affect your afterlife assignment, since you will not be assigned an afterlife until you go through processing. You obviously cannot go through processing until your ties with the living world are completely cut.” He smiled, handing Callum the newest paper. “This is a basic explanation of what is considered during primary assessment. Nothing you haven’t heard before, I’m sure, but it’s for your reference nonetheless.”

Callum accepted the giant block of text, verbal and printed. He was pretty sure the adviser didn’t take a single breath throughout all of that. “... Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now—“

“Can I ask something?”

“Please do.” The adviser took the interruption in stride.

Callum swirled his thoughts around for a moment. His mind kept returning to a particular memory, the memory that pushed him to actually attempt a petition.

He took a useless breath. “I made... a promise. A really important promise to someone while I was still alive. Would fulfilling that be allowed as part of my return time?”

“What was the promise?”

“I promised my girlfriend to take her somewhere she really wanted to go. Would I be able to do that during my return?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Well, that depends on how long it takes. The longer your requested return allowance is, the less likely it will be granted, since returning is— in itself— a violation of natural order. The Arbitrator grants return time as a mercy, not an obligation.” He tapped his pen against the table. “What would you be doing?”

“Going to the summer fair.”

The adviser arched a brow. “Hmm. Asking for more than an hour is inadvisable. Would that suffice?”

Callum pursed his lips. There was a chance... “... The thing is, I may have sworn on my life that I would do it. Under the watch of the Arbitrator.”

Surprise came over the adviser’s expression, the largest deviation from ‘calm and polite’ thus far. “You made... a life oath to take a girl to a fair?”

“Yes.”

“... Well, that does change some things. I can’t say it guarantees anything— the Arbitrator cannot enforce oaths made outside of his domain— but... asking for more time is not unwarranted. You would still have to make justifications for the extra time, since there was no amount of time specified in the oath, no?”

Callum confirmed that there was not.

“Alright. Let’s start wording the petition.” Another paper slipped into existence.

Now here was where Callum was comfortable. “Yes. I have an idea...”

After they finished writing his official petition, the adviser guided Callum to a room where he could relax and review his petition for a while. By his best guess, the advising session had lasted for another hour after he explained his oath to Sarah.

Callum flopped onto the couch with a great, pointless sigh. Breathing isn’t entirely useless here. It makes me feel better, if nothing else. These thoughts are more useless.

Recalling the exact wording of his oath only agitated the memory of making it further. Callum let the moment return to his mind.

They were sitting on a bench together in a park. It was her favorite place to go after receiving treatment at the hospital; not too far from home, but surrounded by little shops and cafes to visit. She always wanted to go somewhere new, but visiting this park was a constant. Wrappers from the random sandwich place they’d gone to for lunch covered part of the bench.

“We should do something.”

Callum glanced over at her. “This isn’t something?” They were not quite cuddling. He thought it was a decent way of passing time.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I mean this summer. We should do something special.”

That didn’t sit well with Callum. Doing something together was fine, but the timing... and ‘special’...

“... What do you want to do, then?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

Callum huffed. “Okay... how about going to an amusement park?”

She snorted. “Cliché.”

“Then you pick something.”

“Hmph... how about the summer fair?”

The shyness in her voice didn’t escape Callum’s notice, however subtle. He looked at her more closely. “Any reason why that in particular?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She smirked.

“I would, actually. And I will use lethal force if necessary.”

“Oh?”

He poked her in the ticklish spot on her side, eliciting a jerk in response.

“That’s cheating!”

“No, it’s necessary.” Her pout wouldn’t get past his stoicism anytime soon.

A breeze blew by, carrying with it the last traces of spring. School wouldn’t keep Callum from being by her side much longer. He worried that much more permanent things would, however.

“... I’ve kinda always wanted to go.”

“To the summer fair?”

“Yeah.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “My dad promised to take me, before he took off. Never really got the chance after that.” She looked up at him with glistening, imploring eyes. “And you’d be such a good dad stand-in, what with your dumb jokes and unfashionable—“ Another poke to the side cut her off before she could get going. She just snickered at him instead.

Callum knew she was trying to hide something. She’d been getting thinner over the last couple months, after the bad news. He knew the possibility of the worst news had been hanging over her head. But for now...

“Sure.”

She looked up at him again. “But like... really really?”

With the best deadpan he could muster, Callum told her, “Under the judgment of the Arbitrator, I swear on my life that I will take you to the fair this summer. Like... really really.”

“You’re so dumb.” Sarah smiled.

A huge set of double oak doors loomed imposingly in front of Callum, and his adviser stood behind him. Intricate ever-changing carvings with no apparent subject covered the wood. Supposedly it was tradition for the petitioners to open the doors themselves, but he couldn't help but think it was a final test of his resolve. The atmosphere was starting to creep him out for no discernible reason.

Setting aside his thoughts and feelings for the umpteenth time, Callum heaved against the doors, finding even more resistance than he expected. They slowly swung open into a sparsely furnished study. Only a large rug and antique wooden desk occupied the floorspace, while more animate carvings slid and curled along the oak-paneled walls.

Like so many of his subordinates, the Arbitrator sat behind the desk, pen and paper at hand. He wore a simple black robe and delicate half-moon glasses. One could almost mistake him for a slightly thinner, younger Santa Claus, if it weren’t for his absolutely oppressive aura.

“Callum Anderson, yes? Come in, come in.”

Callum took measured steps, carefully making his way to stand in front of the Arbitrator’s desk. “Hello, Arbitrator.”

The god of death smiled. “Hello indeed. I hear you have a petition for me?”

“Yes, sir.” Callum handed the Arbitrator two sheets of paper on which his petition was printed, courtesy of his adviser. “I hereby formally request a return allowance of two and a half hours so that I may settle my affairs with the living. The terms and justification are as listed in print. Page two contains an itinerary detailing the exact usage of time, broken into five minute segments.”

The Arbitrator’s eyes flicked over the words before arching a brow. If he actually read them, it was impossibly fast. “I must say, I’ve never had someone come in with such a detailed plan. It says here you have dedicated five minutes to... ‘walking hand-in-hand’?”

Callum remained unflustered. Sarah broke him of his embarrassment long ago. “Yes, sir. I understand that things may not go entirely to plan, but I will swear to follow it as closely as possible. I know Sarah well.”

“Hmm, I imagine.” The Arbitrator’s eyes suddenly bored into his. “And you believe yourself not only capable, but worthy of this?”

It took ninety five percent of Callum’s courage to hold that gaze unflinchingly. The Arbitrator’s attention was not a light burden to bear. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, then. Sign this contract and your return allowance will be granted, per the terms outlined in your petition.” Much to Callum’s surprise, the god didn’t pull papers out of thin air. Instead, he reached into one of his desk’s drawers, opting to do something physically possible rather than make a show of it. “Take your time reading this, although it mostly states that you understand the limitations imposed upon your return time, namely its effects on Afterlife Assessment.”

Callum read through the contract thoroughly, doing his best to ignore the Arbitrator’s presence. It was as he’d said; the main point was to not try anything stupid, else he submit himself to very, very harsh punishment. Harsher than even the rumors about the lowest afterlives one could be sorted into.

He signed with little trepidation. Sarah was waiting. That being said, when nothing visibly occurred after it was all officially done, Callum couldn’t help but inquire about something that seemed out of place.

“... If you don’t mind my asking, why did you grant my petition so easily?”

The Arbitrator had been taking their meeting quite lightly, disregarding his... influence on people.

“Oh? Several hours' worth of paperwork and questioning was easy?” He showed more amusement at the inquiry than anything else.

“... Well, no offense, but yes. You weren’t present during most of that anyways...?” Something about this conversation was starting to bother Callum.

The Arbitrator's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “Dear adviser, why don’t you explain it?” He addressed his pleasantly stoic employee for the first time during the meeting.

“Of course. Every spiritual entity working within Afterlife Assessment reports directly to the Arbitrator on all matters. We are extensions of the Arbitrator's will. Tools, in more crass terms. We exist to serve.” He dipped his head at the end of that unassuming bombshell.

“Mm, yes. It also helps that this is my domain, of course. I may not call myself a god, but the title shouldn’t be unearned, no?” The Arbitrator’s mischievous expression displayed no weaknesses.

It seemed... that things were not entirely as they seemed. Seemingly. Ugh. Too many unknowns. In what presented itself as bureaucracy, no less.

Callum didn’t like this conversation at all. It was a good thing it was time for him to leave.

Showing no sign he’d read Callum’s thoughts, but leaving that impression nonetheless, the Arbitrator bade his farewell. “I believe I’ve kept you for long enough. My clergy has notified the persons listed in your petition, and in a few hours everything should be set up for you to have your, ah, date. I wish you the best.”

“Thank you.” Callum restrained himself from sighing in relief.

In a few short hours, everything would be settled.

Callum stepped through the plain white Afterlife Assessment door and into what was supposed to be a temple of the Arbitrator. Not that he could tell, since the instant he entered he was engulfed in a smothering bear-hug. He hugged back.

“Hi, Mom.”

She didn’t respond for a few seconds. “I’m so sorry. I’m so— I just—“

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But you’re not—“

“I know. Believe me, I know.” It hurt. He’d had hours to come to terms with it, but with the rush to get the petition through it wasn’t enough. He doubted a week would be enough, and that was what they’d been given— the Arbitrator’s domain floated a little more freely through time, or at least portions of it did at the god’s behest.

Callum’s mother finally released her embrace. She refused to move away from him, though, so Callum’s father had to wedge his way in.

“What she means to say is that we’re glad to see you, even if it’s temporary.”

“I know. I mean— yeah.” Callum was still a spiritual construct, but he didn’t doubt for a moment he was capable of crying if he let himself. For their sakes he couldn’t. I don’t have the right.

“Callum?”

She was there. He’d only listed three people in the petition, after all.

“Hey, Sarah.”

Sarah squeezed in for a hug as well. He had one ready for her.

Callum apologized reflexively. “I’m sorry I left—“

“Shut up. You don’t get to apologize.”

“That’s not very fair.”

She scowled at him, brow scrunching under the effort of keeping herself together. “Shut up.”

So he did.

They had thirty minutes before Callum and Sarah were to fulfill their portion of the petition. It wasn’t so much a time for talking as it was a time for being together; they simply sat down in the reception area the temple had set up for them and let what words they had for each other flow.

Callum learned the police had caught the robber and his accomplice. They were looking to serve life sentences, for what it was worth to him at that point.

He was... glad he got to see his parents again. He wouldn’t be seeing them for a very long time. He wouldn’t be seeing anybody he knew for a long time.

Who would’ve thought the worst part about dying young was having to reconstruct a social life? Social afterlife...?

Jokes aside, thirty minutes passed in a flash. Callum and Sarah were driven to the summer fair by a member of the clergy. The fair was only a few minutes from the temple Callum returned to. Still, he had to admit... it was pretty awkward. He and Sarah sat together silently in the back seat.

Once they arrived at the fairgrounds, the atmosphere started to smooth out. Callum encouraged her to go wherever she wanted; that’s why he was there. From livestock shows to games to a Ferris wheel, it was an unforgettable blur of being with her for a while again. Callum was also proud to say he accurately predicted which three things caught her interest first— he’d done his research, thankfully, so the night roughly followed what he had planned in the petition.

The last traces of sunset vanished as their time came to a close. Her frail hand was firmly clasped in his as they walked back to the car.

Sarah acted like she was hiding something, or perhaps avoiding saying something by the way she was tossing glances at him for the past few minutes.

“... What’s on your brain?”

She huffed. “More than what’s on yours...” She trailed off, mulling over her thoughts for a moment. A rare sight. “... It was supposed to be me.”

“What?”

Sarah glared at him. “You heard me! I was supposed to go first. It’s not... it’s not fair. You weren’t...”

“Sarah. Don’t say that.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re not being fair to yourself,” Callum insisted. “You didn’t know what was going to happen, and you still don’t. So don’t go drawing conclusions about who was supposed to die when. Especially don’t give up now.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “Why not?”

Callum sighed. “I would’ve been in the same situation as you. Left behind...” Bitter words, even in hindsight. “... and I bet you would never have forgiven me if I just gave up. So I won’t forgive you either.”

“I’m already halfway there, Callum. They told me it’s a matter of when, not if.”

He was starting to not like this conversation. Positives, come on... “So? I’m dying with plenty of regrets, you know. Make the best of what you’ve got. And when it’s your turn... I’ll be waiting. Very patiently.”

Sarah graced him with a halfhearted chuckle. “Yeah. You would.”

The quiet drive back felt a little less tense.

Callum said his final goodbyes to his parents. He and Sarah shared one last moment of understanding before he stood at the door in the temple. Normally it would just be an ornamental door standing freely in its frame, opening to nothing, but the ever-unruffled adviser and drab surroundings were waiting for him on the other side.

“Are you ready for afterlife assignment?”

Callum sighed, the last weights having fallen off his shoulders. “Yes.” I’d never hear the end of it if she somehow beat me to it, anyways.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, nor an unpleasant one, but Callum felt... waiting for her wouldn’t be so bad, no matter where he ended up.