Jake shifted in his chair, which was exactly as uncomfortable as it looked, and looked again at the employee sitting across from him.
I wonder if they ever run out of wind-up. What happens then? Do they shut off? Do they need someone to wind them again? Is there a department for that?
"Mr. Jake," the employee began, "you have been selected."
"Selected?" Jake repeated, raising an eyebrow he didn't have. "Selected for what exactly?"
"Our internal system performed an automatic evaluation of your profile upon your entry into Hell. That evaluation determined that you possess the necessary aptitudes to perform the position of Debt Collector."
Jake blinked.
Or at least he did the skeletal equivalent of blinking, which was basically staying completely still for two seconds.
"Debt collector," he repeated slowly. "Me… a debt collector?"
"Correct."
"The guy who, in life, couldn't even pay his own rent."
"Correct."
"The guy who had all his credit cards maxed out, an unfinished student loan, and a debt with his landlord that had already generated interest on top of interest."
"Correct."
"That guy... That's who the system considered QUALIFIED to collect debts."
"Correct," she repeated for the fourth time, without her expression changing by even a millimeter.
The universe has no sense of humor… this is less comedy and more brutal cynicism dressed up as a joke.
"Excuse me, but…" Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "What debt are you talking about exactly? We're in Hell. What kind of debt can someone have when they're already dead?"
The employee looked at him with the expression Jake was starting to recognize as her version of I'm going to explain something that should be obvious but clearly isn't to you.
"Karma, Mr. Jake."
"Karma?"
"The karma each individual accumulates during their life does not expire with death. It is, so to speak, an outstanding debt. Bad actions, wasted opportunities, harm caused by action or omission—all of that generates a negative balance that must be paid."
She paused, as if she were reading from a script she had recited ten thousand times.
"Hell exists, among other reasons, as a collection system. Residents work to pay off their accumulated karmic debt. Once that debt has been paid in full, the individual obtains expiation and, with it, the possibility of ascending."
"Ascending?" Jake frowned, or at least his skull did something like it. "Ascending to where?"
"To Heaven."
Silence.
A long silence, heavy with an incredulity so dense Jake could almost feel it sitting on his shoulders.
"…To Heaven?"
"Correct."
"You're telling me I can go to Heaven?"
"If you pay your debt in full, yes."
"And how much is my debt exactly?"
The employee typed something on the touch panel beside her. A holographic screen appeared in front of Jake, displaying a number.
A very long number.
An obscenely long number.
Jake stared at it.
He read it once.
He read it twice.
He read it a third time just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Is that… is that for real?"
"Completely real, Mr. Jake."
…What the hell?
Apparently Hell is a collections office, and it turns out I have a karmic debt so huge I'd need several eternities to pay it off.
But if I pay it, I can go to Heaven.
And the job they're offering me to pay it is… collecting other people's debts.
Jake leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling of the room.
This is so absurd I can't even get mad… It's like someone designed the most bureaucratically perfect system to screw people over and then tied a pretty bow on it with the word "redemption" written on top.
"Work for us collecting what others owe, and you'll pay what you owe."
Hell is a fucking pyramid scheme…
But then another thought crossed his mind.
Although… honestly, what other option do I have?
Stay here sitting for all eternity? Wander the wasteland until I go insane?
At least it's a path… even if it's a shitty path designed so you never reach the end.
Besides… Heaven.
Going to Heaven.
When was the last time I had anything like a goal in life?… Never.
And now, in Hell, for the first time I have a clear objective.
"Mr. Jake."
The employee's voice yanked him out of his mental spiral with the delicacy of a hammer blow.
"Hm?"
"Do you accept the position?"
Jake looked at her—or rather, he looked without really seeing her, because his mind was still processing everything he had just heard.
"Yes."
The answer came out before his mind could process it.
It was exactly the kind of answer you give when the supermarket cashier asks if you want a bag and you say "yes" without thinking because you're looking at your phone.
"Excellent," the employee said, and for the first time, something changed on her face.
She smiled.
It wasn't a big or expressive smile. It was a slight curve of her lips, so subtle anyone might have missed it. But it was there.
And Jake, for some reason he couldn't explain, got chills from that smile.
Wait...
Wait a second.
"Hey, when you say accept, what exactly am I commi—?"
"Congratulations!" the employee exclaimed, and before Jake could finish the sentence, she brought both hands together in front of her chest.
And clapped.
CLAP.
"Welcome to the team, Mr. Jake. We wish you great success in your new position."
"Wait, I didn't—"
"Goodbye."
"I didn't accept anything! I only said yes because I wasn't payin—!"
But the employee wasn't looking at him anymore.
In fact, the employee wasn't there anymore.
The desk wasn't there anymore.
The chair wasn't there anymore.
The cubicle wasn't there anymore.
Jake was standing. Alone. In a completely different space.
The transition had been instantaneous—so much so that his brain took several seconds to register that he was no longer in the same place.
What…?
WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?
Jake spun around, searching for something familiar, anything.
But the only thing he found was fog.
A thick fog surrounded him on all sides. He couldn't see more than a meter in any direction.
"Hello?"
Silence.
"IS ANYONE THERE?!"
More silence.
Jake took a step forward, then another, the echo of his footsteps against the ground becoming the only sound in the place.