Saturday, March 15, 2014

The Department of Reprocessing

We appeared at the edge of a chasm so expansive that it defied measurement in every dimension.  It spread out far enough in front of me to give the impression that it continued well past the limits of my vision.  The edges of the cliff similarly extended beyond visibility in both directions.  After its size, the other thing that I noticed about the abyss was that stuff kept falling into it.

I watched a Prius tumble past us and disappear into the depths.  Then a teddy bear.  And a hospital bed complete with sheets, pillows, IV tubes and bags of fluid.  Then what appeared to be a dresser spilling out the contents of an elderly woman's underwear drawer.  Everything descended slowly, floating gently down toward the bottom of Hell like that whole nine-point-eight-meters-per-second-squared thing was merely some kind of suggestion. 

"What am I looking at?" I asked, staring at a rubber ducky that leisurely cartwheeled past.

"The Department of Reprocessing," Jaelin said tersely.  She nudged me from behind to steer me away from the cliff and over toward a small rocky building that was little more than a hollowed-out protrusion from the wall behind it. 

"Maybe I'm not clear on what, exactly, 'The Department of Reprocessing' means," I said.

"It's the department that reprocesses objects from the world of the living," Sylnie supplied.  Though her response was marginally more helpful than Jaelin's, I still struggled to make sense of how it related to the bizarreness I'd just witnessed.

Jaelin pushed me into the building, which was made up of only one room.  Despite the fact that I almost collided with a foosball table in my attempt not to trip over a bean bag chair, it was easy enough to tell from the figure behind the desk that this was probably the office of the Director of Reprocessing.  

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