PostLife is a short science fiction story I wrote for RPI's McKinney competition my senior year. It might not have won any awards, but Sachin Krishnamoorthy called it "pretty good," so I consider it one of my great successes. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Jessica sat on her bed, legs crossed neatly beneath her, her back to the headboard and her laptop taking its nominal position. She was chatting with Harper, as they always did whenever she couldn't make it across town to hang out.

"You, uhh... you look good."

"Erm, thanks."

"I’m- I'm so sorry, I don't know how I should talk to you now that you’re…"

Jessica stalled, grappling for the right euphemism. Harper chuckled, and then suggested lightly, “…dead?”

“Yes. Yes, that.”

An awkward hush fell over the chat, tears welling up in Jessica’s eyes.

"I don't think anyone knows how yet.” Harper said, with unsettling cheerfulness, “My mom keeps talking to me like I’m some sort of ghost haunting her tablet. I said Dad should go and buy a Ouija board, as like, a joke, but got yelled at for being insensitive. I mean, it’s my death! I’m the one who gets to be offended! Me! Harper the ghost!"

She paused pensively for a second, before shouting, "BOO!"

Jessica jumped, nearly sending her laptop off of her bed and onto the floor below. She grabbed it at only the last moment, holding perfectly still for a second, while her mind caught up to the moment. After her heart resumed its usual activities, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter- and with her, Harper.

“I could get used to this,” joked Harper, her smile widening, until a new thought crossed her mind:

“I suppose I have to.”

A long pause fell over their chat, before she began again, more seriously.

“I still can’t believe peanut oil was what did me in. A stupid fucking peanut. Like, really? Mom and Dad yelled at me all those times for forgetting my pen, and here I am. I really should have listened to them while I still had the chance."

 “You were with me, and…” Jessica trailed off.

“…and then I wasn’t.”

“I could have- I should have reminded you to take your stupid pen.”

“Yeah, that would have helped, wouldn’t it?” Harper jabbed, before realizing how poorly Jessica would take her usual, sardonic humor. Seeing the tears return, attempted to save her friend’s sinking mood.

“But don’t come down too hard on yourself- it’s on me, really. I never listened to you either!”

Jessica nodded, forcing a partial smile, and wiping her eyes. Harper was still her old self, at least.

“Fun as discussing the details of my little tragedy is,” Harper said, with a more measured sarcasm, “for my sake, let’s talk about something other than the worst few minutes of my life. I’m sure you’re terribly curious about what it’s like up here- assuming you’ll end up in the system one day.”

“Sure,” said Jessica, grabbing the lifeline, “What’s it like… in, uh… PostLife?”

“Well,” Harper began spiritedly, “there are a lot of people up here. Probably a good ten thousand. I got introduced to the place about a minute after my time of death… they have a tutorial of sorts… Since it’s an Aeterna plan, it’s mostly like it was back when I was alive. There are little neighborhoods, parks, movie theaters, apartments, shops.... Even jobs, for overachievers like you.”

“Jobs?” Jessica was perplexed. “Who would sign up for a million-million years of nine-to-five?”

“It’s not like that, Jess. People do what they want up here, and for some, it’s work. I’m not even, like, required to finish high school or anything- though I hear they might change that someday.”

Harper caught Jessica’s disapproving glance.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m still gonna finish. It’s not like I have anything better to do with my time. Let’s be honest- what am I gonna do until you get up here?”

The question struck Jessica as puzzling as any question she’d ever encountered. What would one do with an eternity? The whole of PostLife was only in its infancy, and she had not given it much thought. She hadn’t needed to. What will I do with an eternity?

 “I guess I’ll just haunt you…” Harper concluded. “Take up knitting… Finally find a date to prom...”

“You have a prom?”

“Of ­course there’s a prom,” sassed Harper. “There are probably two hundred teens up here. Mostly car accidents, though maybe I’ll meet someone with an interesting story such as myself. Does an allergy death sound interesting? Maybe not. Let’s say I died volunteering. If anyone asks, that’s what it was, Jess: a volunteering accident. And might I say- the boys look good up here.”

Leave it to Harper to already be on the prowl. Jessica rolled her eyes, almost involuntarily.

“I mean, you said I look good, and you’re always too nice... But I really do look good. Everyone does. I think the tutorial-person described it as ‘your ideal self’ or something. I look exactly as I want to. You’re lucky for being alive and all, but I don’t even have to pretend to exercise up here. I’m just as fit as I wish. So I have that going for me, as long as they don’t change that system. If they do I will be pissed.”

“Would they-”

“Goodness knows what they’ll change around here,” interrupted Harper. “It’s a pretty new program. Turns out this whole project’s still considered a very complex test run. Something about ‘post-scarcity, post-incentive, post-disincentive society-building,’ –their words, not mine.”

“Well, it sounds like they know what they’re doing up there,” said Jessica hopefully, before adding, “I can only imagine what it’d be like if your parents hadn’t…”

The thought pained her too much to follow through.

“I wish you were still here.”

“I wish so too. Unfortunately, that’s not how this works.”

Harper half-smiled, and gestured to the video chat interface, “Hey, at least we have this.”

Jessica half-smiled back. “At least we have this.”

For a moment, Jessica almost forgot that Harper was gone.

“Enough about me,” Harper said, brightly. “How’s it going with Eric?”

. . .

Jessica barely noticed the hour when lunchtime rolled around. She- along with most of her department- had been working diligently all morning on an issue regarding core consciousness segmentation. Allowing each Post-Lifer to think his or her own thoughts, remember his or her own memories, and sense his or her own sensations turned out to be a much more difficult problem once it left the textbook.

She had come a long way since her education- even if it had only been concluded a few years ago. After graduating with a master’s degree in Consciousness Science, she’d applied to nearly every PostLife provider in the country- Cloud9, Nirvana, Elysia, HereAfter, Lyfe, Greener… but she knew from the beginning where she’d work if she had the chance:  the provider of her parent’s coverage, her own coverage, and of Harper’s- Aeterna Technologies.

At each of her interviews, Jessica recited the story of the first conversation she had with poor Harper, dead at 16, but saved from the void by the very technology Jessica devoting her life to. Thank goodness her parents had been so among the first to pay for a plan- a rare luxury in those days. Needless to say, recruiters and hiring managers alike were enticed by the story of an early adopter’s devoted friend, and she received an offer from nearly every company she applied to (save Lyfe and Greener, which would be loath to ever hire an Aeternaphile). She accepted a job as a core developer at Aeterna, where she would work on the very heart of PostLife development: not on the various high-level virtual reality-like environments, but on the underlying simulated consciousness which made this all possible. Here she was, only three years into her career, and she had already been promoted- a rising star in the company for sure.

Disconnecting from her desktop screen, and logging out of her tablet, Jessica arose from her desk to peer around the room. Charles and Ryan were still there, but they always ate lunch late. She gave a little wave. They gave a little wave back. Everyone else was gone. Grabbing her tablet, her purse, and her lunch, she navigated her way down the long hallway toward the employee cafeteria.

On the way, she passed prints of great men and women, each of whom had died before the advent of PostLife. Jessica always found the hallway a little too small- not claustrophobic, but overwhelming. For a large company like Aeterna, with as many employees as were employed in this office, it seemed astonishing that this hallway should be so unquiet. When giving tours, the guides always said that Aeterna’s architects had left “no moment’s experience unconsidered” in the construction of its many corporate offices. Every minute of working for Aeterna was supposedly crafted to remind employees of the serious and inspiring work that they was done there every day, building everyone’s inevitable future. To quote the latest round of internet ads, “Life is a present, PostLife is your future.” Why the state of this hallway? Needless to say, to be flanked at by Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa and Nelson Mandela on the way to eat a ham sandwich every day was humbling.

As the hallway opened up into a refreshingly wide cafeteria, Jessica noted those in her department who hadn’t gone out. They waved, and she waved back. She wouldn’t join her coworkers today, however. She had a date with an old friend. Taking a seat at an empty table in the corner, she set her tablet across from her, propped up on her lunch box. A short ring later and there was her best friend, as she was every Wednesday.

“How are you doing Harps?”

“Oh…” Harper laughed, “Where do I start?”

“It’s one of those days, is it?”

“It is definitely one of those days.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, feigning disinterest. What day wasn’t one of “those” days? PostLife might be billed as paradise, but no human endeavor could ever run so smoothly. Even if Harper couldn’t go a day without some crisis or emergency, in truth, Jessica wouldn’t miss Harper’s drama for the world.

“So, you remember Jonathan?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well,” she muttered, under her breath, as if gossiping at a party. “It turns out that he was married back in his real life.”

Jessica gasped dramatically, partially from surprise, partially mocking Harper’s own dramatic nature.

“He waited until the third date to tell you that?”

“That’s what I said! He seems to think that it’s not a big deal, given that whole ‘til death do us part’ nonsense. I said that they came up with that back in the dark ages. Back in, like, his day.”

“You did know that he was older than you going in, though.”

“True,” she sighed. “Most people up here just aren’t my age, I’m afraid. Going to the movies still feels like bingo night, even if everyone looks thirty-five.”

“Well, I’m sorry dating for you has gone as bad as it did during your real life.”

“Oh, shut up. I’ll have you know I was popular back in high school. More than you, at least.”

“Not saying much there, Harps.”

 “Hey- there was Kyle! He was super into me, and… and…”

Harper’s face froze, expressionless for a second, as it always did when she had to look someone or something up. In a complex, segmented consciousness network like Aeterna’s, those on their PostLives could tap directly into the network for information as needed. Sure, they could look it up in a more tangible way, using a computer, a newspaper, a smart phone… but many- after a year or two getting used to the network- found that accessing information direct from the source was much more convenient than acting out their information retrieval in virtual reality. As Harper described it, it’s like Google, but you don’t ask the question. You just grab the answer. To say the least, it was fast, and within a split second, Harper’s usual countenance had returned.

“Reese and Kyle and that one kid who somehow still doesn’t have a Facebook.”

“You know I hate watching you do that, right? And also, you said Kyle twice.”

Harper groaned.

“You caught me- and goodness, Jessica, get used to it. It’s loads easier than that step-by-step thing you living people do.”

Jessica was livid. She strongly disagreed with Aeterna’s inclusion of such a feature, a relic of older systems. It was an exploit, really- an unintended consequence of old code in a 100% uptime system. If she was CEO, she would remove it in an instant.

“If you wanted to join a hive mind, your parents should have chosen Nirvana, not Aeterna.”

“Jesus, Jess, it’s just like Google, but you-“

“It’s not at all like that at all. I have a degree in ConsSci- I work here- I know how it works. It’s a direct connection to the core of our system that bypasses the regular simulation of your senses.”

“As if that’s a bad-“

“That delineation is the entire core of personal identity, Harper! I swear to God, I bypassing your senses is step one to losing yourself in the sys-“

“Oh my God, Mom. One day when you’re dead and gone, you’ll know exactly what I mean.”

“Don’t hope for it too soon.”

Jessica hadn’t realized they were shouting. Both of them had tensed up. A few of her coworkers were covertly casting glances in her direction. Whoops. She took a breath, and with it, a bite of her sandwich.

“I won’t,” remarked Harper, casually, “I have Jonathan to hold me over.”

Now it was Jess’ turn to groan. Harper really hadn’t changed much. Their argument over, if not resolved, it fell on Harper to continue the conversation.

“So, what about you Jess?”

“Not much. Work is work…. We’ve got a public relations disaster on our hands.”

“Juicy.”

“Just you wait-”

Jessica lowered her voice.

“As it turns out, someone with one of our plans was a child molester…”

“I mean, you guys cover like a billion people…”

“Seven hundred thirty million-“

“Jess, you know I could look that number up if I really wanted to-“

“Anyways, you’re totally right. He’s not the first undesirable we’ve carried. Prisoners can still have plans after all. God knows how complex that is from a legal standpoint…” she trailed off. “But, as it turns out, he got caught hanging around a school.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes.”

“And he impersonated kids?”

“You… you watch the news?”

“Well, I’m looking at it now. Goodness, this is awful.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, and then continued, “it’s a disaster, let me tell you… and rumor has it, they’re thinking about disabling his account.”

"...what?”

For someone recently so intrigued, Harper was visibly shaken. The thought of dying a second time- this time permanently- did not sit well with her. It was not a thought often considered.

“Surely they can’t do that!”

“You want a child molester running around up there?”

“Of course not! But can’t they, like, reprogram him?”

Jessica put her hand to her face.

“Harper, that’s the only thing on the books that we can’t do. Remember that whole court case from a year ago? The one that put Mynd out of business?”

Harper’s face suggested not.

“What if I could just go in and change your personality- your memories- your thoughts?”

“I don’t know, it seems awful that they could cut him off like that.”

“I suppose so. I’m not sure what we’re planning to do. Unfortunately- no, fortunately. Fortunately, that’s not my department. Damned if we do something, damned if we don’t.”

Harper looked distraught. Death was a scary subject in pre-PostLife days, to be sure. But in a world where one could opt- for a considerable sum- to live forever, the prospect of an involuntary end became all the more daunting. Jessica realized that it was her turn to resuscitate the conversation.

“So… uh… I broke up with Eric.”

The rest of their lunch continued without a hitch, although Harper’s expression never lost traces of her first real existential scare since high school. At its end, they said their goodbyes, and Jessica returned to work, passing the prints of great men and women.

. . .

A week passed, and a month’s worth of news had accumulated for their next lunchtime conversation.

“Wow, he seems like he’s really bottomed out,” said Harper, fully entranced by Jessica’s rare drama.

 “It’s pretty awful. It’s hard to believe I used to date him.”

“I know, right?”

“It’s like… he just stopped caring. ‘What’s it all for, if we get to do exactly what we want after we die?’ or ‘Why worry about doing anything in our real lives?’ I mean, who talks like that?”

“Nihilists,” dismissed Harper, shaking her head, and grabbing another slice of pizza. “Even in this era...”

“That’s not nihilistic at all-” started Jessica, before deciding it was not worth it. Besides, a new topic had come to mind, with the aid of a cafeteria television.

“Oh my goodness, did you hear about the attack?”

"Mm?” came the reply, Harper’s mouth full.

“On Cloud9’s servers.”

“What?”

“Someone bombed a Cloud9 server center- one large enough to compromise redundancy.”

“Wait… what?”

“They had to transfer something like a million accounts over to us because they couldn’t guarantee safety while their capacity is that low. Worse, we could only save about half of them, because their conscious systems had become compromised,” she said, shaking her head. “This is exactly why I warned Eric about them. Cloud9 is shoddy; it’s remarkable that anyone would still sign up.”

“I- I’m so confused, what happened exactly?”

Jessica cocked her head to one side, and stared at her friend.

“Are you drunk or something?”

“What? No, of course not! Not that it would matter- I could stop being drunk if I wanted to-“

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, of course I am! Jessica, what are you-“

Jessica interrupted, not sure whether she should feel offended or concerned, “Then, why can’t you understand what I’m saying to you? Haven’t you seen the news?”

Harper’s eyebrows furrowed, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I’m looking at it right now, Jessica. Like I always do when you go off on some new something-or-other story, so I don’t sound like an idiot.”

“Right, look up ‘Cloud9 server center’ or something. Should be right at the top.’”

Nothing. Harper’s simply seemed not to comprehend. Jessica, for her part, was equally confounded. Sure, interfacing with PostLife was imperfect- especially back in those early days while she was back in high school- but to misunderstand a basic concept… that was truly unusual. Usually, when some Aeterna system malfunctioned, a user contacted technical support. Unfortunately, Jessica, had no good contacts in that department to ensure a timely response. She did have, however, another idea.

"Alright, Harps, I don’t want to alarm you, but I think something’s stalled in your consciousness. Lemme head down to services to see what it is.”

Jessica hung up the call, and headed out of the cafeteria. Down the hallway with the great men and women, a little past her own department, she walked into the services development room, where a number of Aeterna’s higher-level PostLife services were developed: virtual-reality locations, puzzles, games, interfaces for use with the living… Jessica stopped in front of the first work station, staring its occupant, who was preoccupied with anything but work. Eyes glued to the screen, he was currently shopping for a new shirt to replace the one ruined on last Friday’s… adventure.

“Working hard, or hardly working?” she joked.

The worker jolted upright, caught in the act, and began assembling a cover story.

“I was… waiting on the… there’s a…”

It was then that Kenny realized who he was talking to.

“Christ, Jessica! Don’t scare me like that,” he scolded, feeling his blood pressure spike.

“Sorry, Kenny, but you make it too easy for me…” she said with a grin. “Anyways, I have a support problem to report.”

“But… you’re not dead!”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. However, my friend who is seems to experiencing a problem.”

Satisfied with his usual joke, and feeling a wave of relief wash over him, Kenny leaned back in his chair, closed his browser, and opened a note-taking application.

“Shoot.”

“You see, she doesn’t seem to be getting any news about the Cloud9 server attack.”

“Mm-hm.”

 “And whenever I talk to her about it, she seems to just become confused.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I would think it was a psychological problem right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Goodness, is it a psychological problem? Most of those got resolved in the January update…”

“Yup.”

 “…but she was fine last week, which is weird.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Are you writing this down?”

“Yes.”

Jessica looked at him skeptically. She could see he was taking notes, but could not for the life of her see what they were about. While he might be her one friend in the department, he wasn’t the sort of friend she’d normally ask for favors. Or- to be brutally honest- ever ask for favors. Unfortunately, he was all she had.

“Alright, well, you’ll get around to resolving this, right?”

“Absolutely. I’ll open up an issue right now.”

“I can always count on you, Kyle,” Jessica said, believing it even less than usual.

“Yeah, no problem,” came the reply, as she left for her desk.

. . .

A few more week passed, this time with only a few days’ worth of news. The public space was slowly supplanted with the private- Jessica learning every detail about Harper’s ongoing relationship with Jonathan. Alright, she thought, I’m a little jealous, so what?  It certainly did not help that Eric had gone even further off the deep end. When will he stop calling?

The strangest thing was how perfectly normal Harper had been at each lunch since mentioning the Cloud9 attack. Perhaps she had just not been herself that day. Perhaps Jessica had been a bit off. Try as she might to believe this, Jessica could not suppress her own curiosity. First every day, and then once a week, Jessica dropped by Kenny’s desk to check in on his progress, which is to say, observe a marathon of glaciers.

“Ahh- sorry Jessica, my boss has got me swamped all week. I’ll get around to it as soon as this lets up.”

“I was doing some research yesterday… didn’t really find anything.”

“I was just gonna call someone at HQ. I think they might know more than me about this, you know?”

The longer she waited, the further it slipped from her mind. Perhaps she had simply been mistaken.

. . .

Jessica had nearly forgotten about her inquiry when months later, she got a reply- not from Kenny, but one of the higher-ups. Much higher. It was an email from Jasmine, Vice President of Development. No one cc’d. Subject: “See me.” Body empty. Jessica became nervous in an instant. Why was the VP involved? Did she ask the wrong question? Had she done something wrong? Was she getting fired?

She exhaled slowly. Okay, she thought. Now I get my answer, nothing else. They just want to tell me what’s up with Harper. Jessica arose from her desk and strode toward Jasmine’s office: down the hallway of faces, past service development, at the very corner of the building. Outside, she raised her hand to knock, but halted before making contact with the door. She knew it was silly- she hadn’t done anything wrong- but she couldn’t help but wonder what she would lose if fired. Her salary, her insurance, her retirement savings… Would she lose her PostLife plan? Could she find another job in the industry? If she ended up on Cloud9, or on Nirvana, could she still talk with Harper? Surely, there were ways to cross providers- they had a whole project regarding that underway. She’d almost been assigned to it. Of course that would be finished within a few years. Of course, of course… The dizzying size of eternity dawned her, as it often had on late nights when she was unable to sleep, or when doubting her choice of- she rapped three times on the door.

A slim second had scantly passed when the Vice President of Development appeared in front of her, professionally composed, and offering a practiced handshake. Jessica accepted.

“Come in, Jessica- goodness, are you alright? You look as if you were about to join Harper.”

“How do you know-“

“On your company file. What a story you told the hiring manager,” she began, before dropping her voice, as if to gossip at a party, “Is it true?”

Jessica nodded, confused. Why was she here again?

“Lighten up, you’re doing admirably. If your friend Kenny was in here, maybe it’d be a different story. Does he work at all, or fake absolutely everything? If he put as much effort into doing something as he does into doing nothing, he might actually get somewhere here.”

Sensing that Jessica was in no mood to talk about her coworkers, Jasmine changed her tune. Turning her back, and walking over to her chair, Jasmine gestured for Jessica to take a seat. She did.

“So, I got a little note that you’ve been asking about the Cloud9 disaster.”

“Yes. My friend- um, well, Harper. She’s been-“

“You want the truth about that Cloud9 server center.”

Offset by her directness, she nodded cautiously.

“I shouldn’t tell you this, but…” she trailed off, seemingly making her mind that very moment as to whether she would consider the last words out of her mouth. She made her decision.

“Cloud9 is a disaster of a PostLife provider. They have about twice our user base- as you know, because they’re about half our cost. They cut corners wherever possible, and some people- Lord help them- are willing to accept that for all eternity just for a little extra comfort in this life.”

Jessica nodded, remembering that she’d made the same speech to Eric.

“As you are also well aware, it is difficult to keep minds- souls- separate when communicating at the speed of a computer’s processor. It takes a great deal of effort to construct boundaries between users- that is what you do these days, after all. Word is that Cloud9’s not respecting those boundaries. In order to save costs, they’ve begun running some users’ consciousness processes in pairs, substituting similar thoughts for similar thoughts… we’re concerned that they’re moving towards some sort of mixed-consciousness system.”

“As shocked as I am to hear that Cloud9 might be behaving so… unethically… I am not sure what this has to do with the attack on their data center.”

Jasmine inhaled deeply, her face strained.

“We supported the attack.”

“Oh my god-“

“We didn’t do it. Goodness, no…” Jasmine interrupted, “But you have to understand what we’re up against, Jessica: Cloud9 is falling into that Nirvana obliteration-of-the-self bullshit. Teetering at the edge of oblivion. No sense of individuality, just a huge mess of thoughts…”

She restarted, calmer. “We respect Nirvana’s existence, but those signing up for Cloud9 don’t want that. They want what we want- to be themselves after they’re gone. To talk to loved ones after they’re gone. To live and love and eat and sleep... and we know for a fact that’s not what they’re getting. So we did what exactly what was necessary to ensure their protection.”

Jessica’s head was spinning. Who was she working for, exactly? How could Aeterna, who had done so much good for her- for her friends- for her parents, do such a thing? Her head was in her hands, as she tried to rationalize it. Consciousness seepage was a scary prospect- Jasmine was right about that. Jessica had nearly broken up with Eric when he considered buying a Nirvana plan, and now… Pausing a moment, she chose her next words carefully.

“I understand the severity of Cloud9’s internal problems, believe me I do. But I can’t-“

Jasmine cut her off, a single finger raised.

“Before you finish that sentence, remember what you’ve built here.  We’ve given you a job and an excellent plan. We cover you- we cover your parents- your friends. We saved Harper. We can save you too.”

Jessica felt the weight of her impending decision fast upon her. The weight of a million, million years. The eyes of her children- if she ever had any, her grandchildren- if they had any, on and on until Aeterna’s dead outnumbered the world’s living. But then she thought of Eric. What if he’d been on that server? Aeterna had been willing to risk another provider’s users just to… what? Save them from their own plans? What if Harper had been on that server? What if someone else lost their own Harper? She chose her words again,

“I can no longer- knowing what Aeterna has done- work here.”

An intense silence broke out over the room. Jasmine, displeased that her gamble with honesty had not paid off, frowned and leaned back in her chair. She stared for a moment, head tilted to one size, attempting to understand the person across from her. Jessica had been so good up to this moment. So understanding.

“I am sorry to hear that, Jessica,” she began, sitting upright in her chair. “You were an excellent employee… could have taken this office one day, who knows?” A frown shot across her face. “I wish that things had turned out differently.” She arose from her chair, gesturing for the door. “You may leave now.”

Getting up from the chair, Jessica felt a blur of emotions. What had just… happened? What had she just done? Was Jasmine really just letting her go? Stalling only a few steps out of the vice presidential office, Jessica very nearly took everything back- said she had acted rashly- said she hadn’t thought it through first. She hadn’t. It had all been so fast. But she had made her decision. Not sure what lay ahead, Jessica continued walking down the long hallway back to her desk.

. . .

Jessica had only a few things to pack- she was never much of one to decorate her office space. With only a small bag of her personal belongings, she left the Aeterna office in which she had worked since college. Never again would she wander its halls. Never again would she pass those stupid prints. The further she got from her old workplace, the more she began to worry- about her career, about her life, about her PostLife… It was almost too much for her to handle.

On the train home, she attempted to call Harper. No response. That was alright. She was probably busy. Jessica left a short “In a bad place. Call me later.” In a moment of weakness, Jessica even called Eric, but hung up before he’d have the chance to answer. No, no- she was not that desperate. Was she? She had not been this alone since Harper died- since before that first PostLife call. Where was she to go now? What was she to do? Everything in her life had been so planned up to this point. So perfectly planned. She returned to her apartment, stopping outside the door to collect her thoughts.

It will be okay, Jessica thought. It will be okay.

Jessica opened the door and took a few steps inside, placing her purse on a side table as she always did. With a deep exhale, she made her way toward her kitchen. As she looked up, she noticed an intruder sitting at her kitchen table. He was unkempt, and clearly intoxicated- a wild look in his eyes. She knew that face. She knew that man.

“Eric… Wh- what are you doing here?” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have called you. Look- I’m just having a really tough time, I don’t-”

A gun emerged from the man’s coat, pointed straight at Jessica’s chest. Her voice lost a decibel, as she began to back slowly toward the door, her hand up defensively.

“I- I know you’re upset, but we can talk-“

Jessica’s chest was pierced twice, and then her neck. She fell backwards, slammed against the wall, and then collapsed into a slump on the ground. The man, shaking, and with tears in his eyes, turned the gun on himself, promptly ending his own life.

. . .

Jasmine returned to her corner office from a virtual meeting with the rest of the Aeterna’s upper leadership. It was a dreadfully long one- one of many to come with Cloud9’s management. Acquisitions were tricky business, after all. Luckily, she was nearly done for the day, with only one small remaining matter: a bit of damage control before the long weekend. She closed her door, and sat down at her desk, setting her tablet opposite her. She had three calls to make.

One.

“Hello Harper.”

“Do I know you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Do you happen to know anything about an attack on a Cloud9 data center?”

“There was an attack? No, I-” she froze, her eyes expressionless, and her face entirely at peace.

“Excuse me, do I know you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Jessica?”

“Jessica?”

Her face went blank, and Jasmine hung up. One down, two to go.

“Hello, Eric.”

The man looked ashamed.

“No need to worry.”

Jasmine pressed a button, and his face was instantly relieved. Jasmine ended the call.

One more call, and she was free for the weekend. Jasmine let out a long sigh. She did not like this part of her work. She had greater things to attend to- projects that would make PostLife better for everyone. Still, unpleasant work needed doing, and she was not about to delegate this away. This was her responsibility. She began the call.

“Hello.”

The face on the tablet gave away little, but its eyes spoke volumes.

“I know I’m the last person you’d like to see now. In fact, you’re the last person I’d like to see, if we’re being honest. I’ll make this brief.”

Those volumes did not end well.

“This is nothing personal. I don’t have anything against you- we just can’t take any risks with this sort of endeavor. We’re talking about millions of people’s futures here- their eternal futures. That’s serious enough to warrant serious- perhaps- excessive precautions.”

The eyes burned.

“I know you’re not going to take any of this well. I’m not sure I would if I were in your position- although, I’m not sure I would end up in your position. But don’t worry. You’re here now. In a system built exclusively for your enjoyment. Make the most of it.”

The eyes blinked, and broke focus, as the reality of eternity donned upon their owner.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll even come around to work for Aeterna up there. The CEO’s been toying with the idea of having an office for employees within our PostLife system itself. Wouldn’t that be cool? We only have to get a bill through Congress. I’m sure we could sway a few of our prized premium plan holders.”

The eyes returned to hers, calling out desperately for help. Uncomfortable, Jasmine averted her own.

“Ah, well. Enjoy eternity. Sincerely.”

In an instant, the eyes gazed off into the distance, and Jessica’s face fell still.