Topher Bailey was very confused.

Two minutes ago, he'd been on the phone with someone from India, trying to figure out why his FreePictures.com account had been locked. He thought he'd been pretty patient with the guy -- he always tried to be nice to foreigners, Lord knows his grandparents had been immigrants -- but nobody's perfect, right? And then there had been some kind of bright light, a sort of falling sensation, and a weird sort of buzzing all through his body -- and now he appeared to be somewhere else, holding the plastic handset of his cheap landline phone with a bit of burnt cord dangling from the end. Also, he was extremely nauseous.

Trying not to throw up or pass gas, he blinked a lot -- things were very bright and busy here, and a bunch of short people kept jostling him -- and after a bit he transferred the phone to his elbow so that he could clean his glasses and squint a little bit more. Eventually, things became a little clearer -- it looked like he was in some kind of big hall, with a lot of white marble and a bunch of Asian teenagers in uniforms milling around. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to get a grip on himself.

Okay, obviously he was dead. He'd died. He'd had a stroke or something on the phone with "Jeff From Chicago" and now he was in some kind of post-mortem waiting room, presumably in line to defend his questionable choices on Earth to Saint Peter or Anubis or something. Or was it Osiris? Not that I'm all that religious, he mused, which probably wasn't a good sign for him if there actually was an afterlife. With his luck, the One True Religion would probably be some obscure monotheistic religion and he was going to go to hell for not worshipping Marduk or something. Typical.

But, if he was dead, shouldn't he be in less pain? His stomach was still pretty disturbed, and his back and knees and eyes hurt like usual. Maybe it was all in his head? He concentrated, but if anything, his daily aches got worse. He mostly just wanted to sit down.

"Excuse me, Foreigner-san? I think you're next?"

Topher blinked. One of the kids was talking to him? "Er... what? I'm sorry?" He looked around, finally picking out the person in question -- a black-haired girl with a shoulder-length bob cut and a worried expression.

"Excuse me!" She bowed sharply, looking embarrassed. Topher was very used to people looking embarrassed when they talked to him, so he was quite adept at spotting it. "The, ah... the authorities? They are having us line up?"

Topher glanced around -- it looked like she was right. The other kids were forming a queue in front of an old guy with a big beard in a robe, who was holding up some sort of mirror in front of each one. Okay. This must be the whole soul-tabulation thing. "I see. Thank you, young lady." Dutifully, he shuffled to the back of the line and waited impatiently, growing more uncomfortable and tired with each passing minute. Do they serve food in the afterlife? Maybe I can get a heaven-burger. Or a purgatory-sandwich.

"Ah, yes, thank you, hero! You there, next, step forward!"

Having finally reached the front of the line, Topher obediently stepped forward and squared his shoulders, doing his best to look presentable (well, as presentable as one could in a bathrobe and flip-flops, anyway). He gazed into the large mirror, cringing at his receded hairline and paunchy stomach, and hoped he wasn't about to get a first-class ticket on the Hell Express.

As he met his own gaze in the mirror, it flashed with a blue light, and a little blue pop-up window appeared:

Name: Christopher Bailey Level: 1 Class: Otherworlder Strength: Rank F Dexterity: Rank F Constitution: Rank F Intelligence: Rank D Wisdom: Rank D Charisma: Rank F Skills:

Literacy (Rank D)

Mathematics (Rank D)

Cooking (Rank F)

Customer Service (Rank D)

Data Entry and Filing (Rank B)

Packaging and Shipping (Rank D)

Home Appliance Repair (Rank F)

Pen Spinning (Rank A)

Special Skills:

None

Unique Skill:

Attract Object

Topher blinked, then groaned. Apparently it was that sort of record of your life. Nothing on here about any of the good he'd done, of course, that was typical. Still, there's nothing about Hell on here, he thought desperately, maybe I'll be okay?

The guy in the robe was muttering something to another man, who was very tall and regal-looking; he was adorned with a crown, a closely-trimmed black beard, and a disgusted expression. Finally, he nodded at Topher. "Thank you, Sir Hero, that will be all. You may join the other Rank F individuals at the red curtain."

Topher's shoulders slumped. He might not have done all that well in school, but he knew F was a failing grade. Off to the acid mines for eternity with me, I suppose, he despaired, as he slouched his way over to a corner of the room with a large burgundy curtain where a few of the Asian teenage kids were hanging about anxiously. At least now he could sit down.

"Excuse me, Foreigner-san?" It was the young girl from before. "Are you F-rank, too?"

Topher nodded, feeling very depressed. "I am. I guess I didn't do enough volunteer work in my life."

The young girl clutched the front of her uniform nervously. "Um? Do you... do you think they'll send us back? Because we're F-Rank?"

Reincarnation, eh? That hadn't occurred to him. Still, if he had done so poorly that he'd gotten an F in life, he probably wouldn't be coming back as anything good. Probably a dung beetle. Topher had always had a feeling, deep in the guts of his spiritual self, that he'd had the soul of a dung beetle. So no surprises there. "To be honest, young lady, I don't know what's going to happen." He fished a battered, nearly-empty package of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit it with a plastic lighter -- can't hurt me now that I'm dead AND going to Hell -- and took a deep breath, then let out the smoke in a long exhale. "In fact, out of all the people here, I think I know the least about what's going on." He gestured around. "I mean, why are all of you here at the same time? Did your school bus crash, or something?"

The young girl blinked, then shook her head. "No... no, we were at, an, um... an assembly? And there was a bright light, and... then we were here?"

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Probably a gas explosion. Poor kids. Look at 'em all, not a one over sixteen. Topher shook his head sadly.

"Hey! Hey, they're going to make an announcement!" A dorky-looking kid at Topher's elbow waved towards them, obviously trying to get their attention. Groaning, Topher struggled to his feet as the joker in the crown stepped up onto a little pedestal and gestured for silence.

"Heroes, attend me." Hey, this guy's a real orator, Topher thought, impressed. Probably did Toastmasters when he was alive. "As you all know, our Summoning Spell has brought you to our world, in hopes that you might be the prophesied heroes who can defeat the Invincible Demon King." Excuse me? "Using the Speculus of Distinction, we have analyzed your skills and latent powers, and classified you accordingly." Crowny McSmoothtalk nodded in the direction of the curtained alcoves, which Topher now noticed there were six of -- orange curtain, blue curtain, green curtain, yellow curtain, brown curtain, and red curtain (him). "Those of you who are classified Rank S are the prophesied ones -- the adventurers with the best hope of defeating the Great Evil. Each of you will be the leader of a party, and must select a number of the A-Rank and B-Rank heroes to assist you. The C-Rank and D-Rank heroes will join the castle guard, and train to lead our armies in the war should it come." He glanced dismissively in the direction of the red-curtained alcove. "Those of you who are F-Rank are free to do as you wish. Regrettably, you are too weak to aid us against the Darkness."

"Does... does that mean we can go home?" The girl next to Topher was the only one to speak up.

The crowned man shook his head. "I regret to inform you that is impossible. Our Summoning Spell can only bring heroes to our world, not send them to other worlds. I apologize, but there is nothing we can do for you."

"You don't sound too sorry."

Everyone turned, staring, at Topher. Oops. I didn't mean to say that out loud. He wanted to cringe and sit back down, but he didn't want to look like a coward, so he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Might as well try to look cool if they're all gonna stare at me. The effect was only slightly spoiled by his stagger when he discovered the curtain wasn't flush against the wall and almost fell over, but he felt that he recovered pretty well.

The guy with the crown -- King, maybe? Dukes probably don't have crowns -- frowned in Topher's direction. "I assure you, Sir Hero, that your plight is not meaningless to me. Nevertheless, the fact remains that I cannot assist you. The kingdom, and in fact the entire world, must focus on the threat of the Demon Lord." He turned away, apparently considering the conversation at an end. "You all have your orders. Thank you for your noble aid." Then, before anyone could ask any questions, he strode away, leaving everyone glancing around in confusion. Topher stared after him, a little nonplussed. He seemed like he'd given that speech more than once.

The girl with the bob cut was crying, and the three other F-Rankers looked like they might join in any moment; Topher, who still didn't understand much of what was going on but had at least started to get the gist, wanted to cry too. However, a number of factors -- his fear of looking weak in front of a bunch of schoolchildren, his formative traumatic conditioning as an American male, and his general reduced ability to give a fuck due to advancing age -- prevented him, and instead goaded him to take command of the situation. "All right, all right, settle down. Let's keep our heads." He gathered the others together into a seated circle, wincing at the absurdity of it all. "From what I'm hearing, it looks like these nutjobs kidnapped us with magic, yeah? Does that make sense to you kids as well?"

Another of the other F-Rankers, a fat boy with a runny nose, nodded. "He said it was a 'Summoning Spell', Foreigner-San. I've read about them in comics and stuff. We've been summoned to another world."

The fourth F-Ranker, a tough-looking girl with a bandage on her nose, scoffed. "You're just making stuff up, nerd. I think we've all been gassed, or something. This could all be a big hallucination!"

The bespectacled boy shook his head. "It's not. I experimented with my Unique Skill, and it works." He held up his hand, and a large bell pepper appeared in a flash of light. "It's Summon Vegetable. I made a tomato earlier, but I ate it."

Topher blinked. "You serious, kid? You ate a tomato that appeared from thin air? Without even washing it?"

The boy shrugged. "It tasted normal to me, Foreigner-san."

"Young people have no sense," Topher complained to the air. "And what's with calling me Foreigner-whatever?"

The four teens stared at him in confusion for a few moments, before the tough-looking girl laughed. "Typical foreigner!"

"No, wait." The fat boy was looking at him with dawning wonder. "They don't have honorifics in English, remember?"

"That's dumb," the tough girl retorted. "He's speaking perfect Japanese! Of course he knows the proper form of address!"

"No I'm not," spluttered Topher. "You're all talking normal, just like me."

The bespectacled boy adjusted his glasses, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The spell must translate whatever we're saying into a language we can all understand. If this really is some kind of magical world, they probably wouldn't be speaking any language we understand either."

"Well, I don't know how you kids talk to grown-ups in China or Japan or whatever, but in America, the kids in my neighborhood call me Mr. Bailey," pronounced Topher, getting fed up with all this nonsense. The scandalized looks they gave him in return puzzled him, but he plowed ahead regardless. "And if we're really stuck here with no way home, you'd better stop bickering and play nicely. There probably ain't any YouTubes or TikToks here for you to goof around with, and I get the feeling you're gonna have to grow up a little."

Shockingly, his admonishment seemed to have some effect on them, and they nodded. The girl who'd been crying wiped her eyes, then looked up at him with an expression of trust and hope he found vaguely unsettling. "Yes sir, Bailey-sensei. I'm Haruko Ikehara." After a moment, she added, "Ikehara is my family name," which confused Topher tremendously; after a moment, he decided to ignore it.

The fat boy snatched the pepper from the boy with the glasses and took a bite. "Well, I'm Noboru Taniguchi, and I'm starving."

"Whatever!" The tough-looking girl crossed her arms and looked away. "I'm Makoto Yoshihara -- not that it matters, or anything. But I think Bailey-sensei is right; we should stick together. Form a party, or whatever, since the others are doing it."

Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't sign up to babysit no kids. Topher frowned. Then again, I guess I can't just leave 'em if I'm the only adult around. He sighed, then turned to the boy with the glasses. "What about you, Kid Vegetable? What's your name?"

"I'm Hotaka Hirota. Kid Vegetable would be a pretty great sidekick name, though." He pushed his glasses up a little, smiling. At least they're cheering up a little, thought Topher reluctantly. "And speaking of that, I think we should all share our talents. You all know mine is Summon Vegetable, but what did the rest of you get?"

Makoto snorted. "I wish mine was that useful. I got Control Smoke." Waving her hand, she bent the thin stream of tobacco vapor wafting from Topher's cigarette into a circular shape, which gave Topher a sudden and inexplicable craving for a donut. "What about you, fatso?"

Noboru grimaced. "I got Destroy Paper. I guess that makes me scissors?" He smiled weakly. "I don't know how to use it, though."

Topher frowned. "The kid makes a good point -- how did you two know how to use your mumbo-jumbo? And how did you even know what it was?"

Haruko bowed a little, seeming embarrassed. "It was on our display in the mirror, Bailey-sensei. Did you have one, too? Something under 'Unique Skill'? Mine was Flower Magic."

"Unique Skill, huh?" Topher pursed his lips. "I think I did see something like that -- Attract Object, or something."

The boy with the glasses -- Hotaka, Topher remembered -- nodded. "I just tried to, I don't know, use the skill, and thought of the name when I did it. It seemed to come naturally -- like something I'd always known how to do. It almost seemed weird that I hadn't been able to do it before, back in the other world." He didn't say 'the real world', Topher noted ominously.

"Well, I guess I can understand why they didn't think our abilities would be useful," commented Noboru, chewing thoughtfully on the bell pepper. "Yours sounds like it might be a little stronger, though, Bailey-sensei."

"Kid..." Topher began, rubbing his eyes, but stopped with a groan when he accidentally knocked his glasses off his face. They bounced off his bathrobe and skittered across the floor, out of reach; his joints preemptively began to ache at the thought of having to get up and go over there to get them. He started to ask one of the kids to fetch them for him -- hey, how about you go get Uncle Topher's glasses -- but suddenly, the thought of Attract Object popped into his mind. And before he knew it, it had happened -- his glasses leapt into his hand, exactly like the ten million times he'd wished he could summon the TV remote into his grasp. It was precisely how he'd always imagined it happening, right down to the satisfying little smack against his palm. He stared at his glasses, unbelieving.

Jesus Christ. That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen.