The thing about endless lines is that they tend to feel more endless the longer you stand in them. But Line 8 wasn’t just long—it was outright impossible. It stretched through the space in a twisted, glowing loop, folding back on itself like some kind of ethereal rollercoaster. Souls shuffled forward at odd intervals, muttering as they stared at the shimmering floor. Every now and then, a ghostly intercom voice boomed overhead, announcing unintelligible directives: “Applicant 137-ZX, proceed to Grid Lambda. Urgent correction required.” No one seemed to react.
I tapped a metaphysical finger against my ethereal form and tried to ignore the growing dread in my chest. What time was it? 2:30? 2:40? The thought of missing Eden’s school pick-up made my chest tighten. Come on, Simon. Keep it together. Lines end eventually… don’t they?
Nearby, a small kiosk floated above the ground, glowing with soft blue light. A cheery sign above it read: “Time Tokens: Trade Your Soul Patience for Speed!” Beneath it was a scrolling disclaimer in tiny text. I didn’t have to read it to know it wasn’t worth the risk. Something about trading “Soul Patience” felt like a slippery slope. Still, the idea of cutting to the front was tempting.
“Don’t bother,” said a voice to my left. I turned to see a soul wearing what could only be described as a toga made of crumpled forms. She had a clipboard tucked under one arm and was carefully folding a piece of paper into a crane. “The tokens are a scam. You trade your patience, and they just make you wait in a different line. Classic bait-and-switch.”
“Good to know,” I said, wondering if she could hear the weariness in my voice. “I don’t suppose you know a faster way to get through all this?”
The soul gave me a look that was equal parts amusement and pity. “Oh, there’s always a faster way. Just depends on how much trouble you’re willing to get into.” She smirked and held up her paper crane, which flapped its tiny wings before bursting into flame. “Name’s Gwen. Been here… oh, a few decades, give or take. I’ve learned a thing or two.”
“A few decades?” My stomach—or whatever souls had in place of one—did an uncomfortable flip. “How are you still… I mean, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Oh, I’ve had plenty of places to be,” Gwen said, waving a hand dismissively. “Appointments, trials, heroic missions. But the Bureau’s a master at making you forget why you’re in a hurry. Pretty soon, you start folding cranes just to pass the time.”
Her words hit me like a gut punch. “Well, I don’t have decades. I’ve got minutes.” I glanced at the line ahead, where the souls were inching forward like lethargic slugs. “Do you know any shortcuts? I need to pick up my daughter by three.”
Gwen’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “A daughter, eh? That’s a rare motivation around here. Most folks are too busy worrying about their destiny or their fate.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “There is one way. But it’s risky.”
“Risky how?”
She tapped her clipboard, which I now realized was covered in dense, illegible scribbles. “Have you heard of the Hero Disqualification Wing?”
“No,” I said, dreading what was coming next.
“It’s where they send souls who don’t quite measure up.” Gwen’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If you can slip in there, you might find a loophole to get out of this whole hero business. But getting there means breaking a few rules. And the Bureau really doesn’t like rule-breakers.”
I frowned. “And this loophole… it would get me back to Earth?”
“Possibly.” Gwen shrugged. “Or it might land you in administrative purgatory. But hey, it’s better than waiting in Line 8 for eternity, right?”
Before I could respond, the line suddenly lurched forward. I stumbled slightly, surprised by the movement. Ahead, a glowing sign flickered into view: “Heroic Aptitude Calibration: Prepare Your Soul for Greatness!”
“Looks like your time’s up,” Gwen said, gesturing to the line. “Good luck in Calibration. Try not to lose your patience. Or your mind.”
I hesitated, torn between following the line or taking Gwen’s cryptic advice. Before I could decide, a soul barreled past me, giggling maniacally. They were holding what looked like a glowing yo-yo, spinning it wildly as they skipped toward a side corridor marked “Lost and Found (Heroes).”
“I found my courage!” the soul shouted, disappearing down the hallway.
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“What the—” I began, but Gwen cut me off.
“Don’t mind them. Lost and Found attracts all sorts. Half the stuff in there is cursed, anyway.” She waved me forward. “Go on. Calibration won’t wait forever.”
Reluctantly, I shuffled back into the line, glancing over my shoulder at Gwen. Her paper cranes were fluttering around her like tiny, burning butterflies. Part of me wanted to stay and ask more questions, but the clock was ticking. Eden needed me. If there was any chance Calibration could get me out of here faster, I had to take it.
The line moved steadily now, leading me toward a glowing archway. Beyond it, I could see flickers of light and hear the faint hum of machinery. My gut told me I wasn’t going to like what came next, but I had no choice. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the arch and into the unknown.
-----
The glowing archway sealed behind me with a faint hum, leaving me standing in what I can only describe as an interdimensional exam room. The walls shimmered like liquid mercury, rippling with ghostly reflections that seemed to watch my every move. In the center of the room floated a spherical console, bristling with strange protrusions—levers, dials, and buttons that glowed in colors I didn’t even know existed.
“Applicant 407-X,” a clipped, authoritative voice announced. I jumped and spun around, only to find the source: a stern-looking woman with translucent skin and an air of militant efficiency. She wore something that might have been a uniform if uniforms were designed by bureaucrats obsessed with flair. Her name tag read Ms. Fenwick.
“You will now undergo Heroic Aptitude Calibration,” she said, her voice like a whip cracking against my nerves. “This process will assess your physical, mental, and metaphysical capabilities to determine your suitability for heroic deployment.”
“Right,” I said, trying to sound confident. “And, uh, how long does this… calibration take?”
“Time,” she said with a sharp glare, “is irrelevant in the Bureau.”
“That’s comforting,” I muttered, though internally, I was screaming. 2:45! You’ve got fifteen minutes, Simon. Focus!
Ms. Fenwick didn’t seem inclined to wait for my existential crisis to pass. She waved her hand, and the console in the center of the room sprang to life, its protrusions whirring and spinning. A glowing panel emerged, displaying a series of rapidly shifting symbols that made my head spin.
“Step forward,” she commanded.
I hesitated. “And if I don’t?”
Her glare could have melted steel. “Step. Forward.”
With a sigh, I shuffled toward the console. The moment I got close, tendrils of light shot out from the machine and wrapped around my form. I yelped as they lifted me off the ground, suspending me in midair like a bug in a web. The tendrils began to pulse, scanning me with a series of bright flashes that made me feel like I was being dissected under a microscope.
“Physical calibration initiated,” Ms. Fenwick announced. “Brace yourself.”
“Brace for wha—” My words were cut off as the tendrils yanked me into what felt like a vortex. Suddenly, I was in the middle of an empty battlefield, the sky an ominous shade of red. A glowing sword appeared in my hand, and before I could process what was happening, a monstrous figure lunged at me from the shadows.
Instinct took over. I swung the sword wildly, barely managing to block the creature’s attack. It snarled and lashed out again, its movements impossibly fast. I stumbled backward, my mind racing. This isn’t real. It can’t be real.
But the pain in my arm as the creature’s claw grazed me felt very real. Panic surged through me, but then—almost without thinking—I reached out with the sword and slashed at the creature’s side. The blade connected, and the creature dissolved into smoke.
“Hmm,” Ms. Fenwick’s voice echoed in the air, clinical and unimpressed. “Adequate reflexes. Poor strategy.”
Before I could retort, the battlefield dissolved, and I was back in the exam room, still suspended by the glowing tendrils.
“Physical calibration complete,” Ms. Fenwick announced. “Initiating mental calibration.”
“Can’t I at least catch my breath?” I asked, but she ignored me.
The tendrils pulsed again, and this time I was plunged into what looked like a maze made entirely of light. The walls shifted constantly, rearranging themselves in ways that made navigation nearly impossible. A timer appeared above my head, counting down ominously.
“Your task is to find the exit before the timer runs out,” Ms. Fenwick’s voice instructed. “Begin.”
I groaned. Of course it’s timed. Because why not?
With no other choice, I started moving, trying to map the shifting pathways in my mind. But every time I thought I’d figured out a pattern, the walls would shift again, forcing me to start over. The timer ticked down relentlessly.
Then it happened. A faint shimmer caught my eye—an opening that wasn’t part of the maze. I reached out with my thoughts, and to my surprise, the shimmer responded, bending the maze around it. The exit appeared directly in front of me.
“Interesting,” Ms. Fenwick’s voice said as the maze dissolved. “You have an intuitive grasp of ethereal data manipulation. Rare, but unpolished.”
I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or insulted.
“Calibration complete,” Ms. Fenwick declared. “Your results will be sent to the appropriate department for further evaluation.”
“Wait, that’s it?” I asked, as the tendrils released me and I floated back to the ground. “What about getting back to Earth?”
“That is not my department,” she said curtly. “You may proceed to Line 9.”
“Line 9?!” I felt my frustration boil over. “I don’t have time for another line! I need to get back to my daughter—”
A loud crash interrupted me. The wall behind the console exploded inward, and Trevor stumbled into the room, his ethereal form crackling with chaotic energy.
“Simon!” he shouted. “I’ve found it!”
“Found what?” I asked, even as Ms. Fenwick shrieked in fury.
“No time to explain!” Trevor grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the hole in the wall. “Just trust me!”
I glanced at Ms. Fenwick, who was already summoning reinforcements, and then at the clock in my mind. 2:55. With no better options, I followed Trevor into the chaos.