TERMINAL Page 3

  What the hell wrong with this guy? I wondered.

  He smiled a wide, excited smile at my genuine confusion.

  His step was measured, cautious as he strode toward me, and I straightened. His walk was catlike, and his movements were fluid, he wholly owned his body, and therefore, he wasn't embarrassed about nudity at all. Abruptly I was overcome by the feeling that he bragged about his spectacular appearance as if he found the most prudish person in this place as a victim to mock.

  With another step, the distance between us reduced, and a moment later, I was staring right in his dark eyes, refrain myself from recoiling or stepping away, though that closeness was way too intimate for me.

  "What a gaze," he said, but I kept silent, lost in shock.

  With exaggerated slowness, he stepped closer.

  "My league," he whispered, his eyes piercing.

  "I seriously doubt that," I replied tensely.

  "But that your look was so... so agonizingly long."

  I froze for an instant as I realized what he must have meant.

  "I was hoping to see something worthwhile," I said calmly.

  He bit his lip and leaned over to exhale in my ear, "Ouch."

  His gaze lazily slid over the name tag on my chest.

  "Sven Amery Reinsch," he commented with a silky tone and then widened his eyes to suggest innocence. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

  I was sure my expression was apathetic.

  "No," I said dryly in even voice.

  He gave me a huge smile; his eyes brightened at my word.

  "I want to follow you around until you fall in love with me," he said softly.

  "Go for it," I answered rigidly. "If you're looking a good way to waste your time."

  "You sure about this?"

  "Wh-what the hell?" I stuttered as he suddenly grabbed my waist and yanked me against him.

  "Let go of me," I snarled. "Now."

  Rationally, I knew my lungs — if I had ones — are useless, yet I gasped for air, unprepared to deal with the unexpectedness of his movement: he dipped me sharply and leaned over me to press his lips against mine.

  I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears and didn't feel adrenaline jolts through my veins, but the rage was real, it was clear, aching intense, and burning.

  My hand clenched into a fist met Hassler's jaw ferociously at the gasps and shocked hissings of other transfers in the terminal. Hassler pulled away as I broke his grip, I staggered but managed to hold myself upright.

  He obviously didn't expect my blow; his expression seemed bleak.

  "Crack ass," I stammered as his eyes flashed over to meet mine; he was smiling crookedly at me.

  "Such a perfect punch," he said, running his fingers down his cheek. "Not too much, but without doubt, without pity or remorse, without hypocrisy."

  "You're sick," I said obnoxiously.

  "I sure am."

  I turned on my heel sharply but stopped as Hassler spoke again.

  "By the way, Amery Reinsch, I have a lot of time here."

  "Even if I had the whole eternity, I wouldn't waste it on psycho like you," I commented and gave him one last contemptuous look before heading back to the break room, ignoring the sidelong glances at my direction.

  4. AUTOPILOT

  I cleared my throat more as a habit, but not a necessity.

  "Welco... I mean, hello."

  "Where am I? Who are you?"

  I didn't have a decent answer to this question. What was I supposed to say? That I am the one who sends the souls of people to the afterlife? Like, hello, you're dead, I haven't accepted my death either, but I'm not good enough to die properly, so I should make sure you go to the right door to earn my ticket to Paradise.

  Ugh...

  The old lady was waiting for an answer, so I had to say at least something.

  "Elizabeth Asch?" I decided to clarify.

  The woman nodded.

  "Follow me, please."

  "Are you a doctor?"

  I wish I was.

  "No," I answered.

  "Then what happened? Where am I?"

  I rubbed my shoulder nervously.

  "I'm sorry... you died."

  "But... I'm only sixty-nine years old."

  Only? I wasn't even over thirty, I thought.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "There is good news: you're going to go to Paradise."

  Unlike me, I almost added.

  I led the old lady along the jet bridge to the terminal entrance, where Evi was waiting for me to make sure I could handle my first 'escorting' by myself.

  "I'm okay," I said, and she folded her arms across her chest, her expression impassive. I guess she was still angry at me for that scene right in the middle of terminal I was dragged in, against my will. For some reason, she decided to rebuke me for being 'quick-tempered,' but not that asshole for being an asshole.

  "That's not the right time and place for hate and fighting, you know," she said, and these words made me even more furious, especially after Moritz asked me if Hassler was my ex-boyfriend, which disgusted me by the thought.

  Well, my first experience of escorting as a transfer turned out to be quite... prosaic? All that was required of me was to meet the deceased, to get them to the right door, and put my signature on their dossier, so Evi's supervision turned out to be useless.

  Transfers were still glancing at me with curiosity, and now I knew the reason: Evi was considered to be a kind of legend of the Terminal, and, of course, everyone was wondering who that lucky one became her protégé this time. According to Evi, she signed more than fifteen thousand profiles, of which more than a hundred belonged to her protégés. Before my first deceased, I had a dismal talk with Evi about the rules and maintaining the order in the Terminal.

  "So, any transfer can sign the dossier of arrival?" I asked then.

  "Yes, except for those who have a mentor — who became transfer. For example, only I am entitled to sign your profile." Evi answered patiently.

  "What about you? You've been here the longest, but your mentor..."

  I stopped short, realizing that I touched on Evi's less favorite topic, but she only shrugged indifferently.

  "If a mentor gets a place of departure earlier than his protégé, then a new mentor is assigned to this protégé. We don't know how this selection process works; we just see it on the display board."

  "So you had..."

  "Forty-eight mentors. Matthias is my forty-ninth."

  So that's how I stopped wondering why this woman always had such a gloomy expression. Although, in fairness, all the people here were already dead, and that was enough of a reason to walk around with frowny faces.

  "Here we are," I said to old lady, stopping at the door under the sign PARADISE, which, despite its mysterious contents, was no different from the rest doors here.

  "Well, have a..." I stammered.

  Have a good time? Have fun?

  "Have a rest," I said reluctantly and waved my hand toward the door.

  The old lady looked uncertainly at me, and then at the door. Her fingers gripped the doorknob, and I tensed.

  Maybe I could look behind the door and see… the Paradise?

  The door opened, and my jaw clenched in hopeless frustration. All I could see was just another corridor with white panels along the walls.

  The door slammed shut, but I still could not tear my eyes away from it. I looked down at the doorknob and reached out to touch its metal surface with my fingers.

  I squeezed the doorknob, tugged on it cautiously, and... nothing happened. The door was locked. It obediently opened for the arrival, but it was obstinately locked for me.

  "You can keep yanking as much as you like," Evi's mocking voice sounded behind me.

  I started and recoiled from the door.

  Evi looked at me with pity, leaning her shoulder against the jet bridge wall.

  "Is it opens only for… the chosen ones?" I asked.

  "For those who have the
right to enter there. For those who should."

  Evi waved her hand toward the entrance, and I nodded.

  "I saw... I think I saw..."

  "Let me guess, the white office walls, right?" Evi said. "All the transfers see the same behind those doors. But it looks different for arrivals."

  "What do you mean?" I asked as we stepped through the threshold.

  A faint smile touched Evi's lips.

  "Just look at the faces of arrivals as they open the door, at their gazes when they see the Paradise."

  "And what are those gazes?" I asked.

  "Relaxed, I guess," Evi said simply.

  We went back to the South Gate, and I decided to ask another question until the topic closed.

  "What about the people who opened the door to Hell?"

  "Hm... I would say they look rather sulky. There is no fear or despair in their eyes, which gives some hope, right?"

  I could not disagree with her. I doubted that seeing Hell as a location where sinned souls experience absolution by tortures — which is customary for most religions — can only be accompanied by a sulky glare. I bet I'd mutter some swears.

  "Let me show you the Archive..." Evi stumbled toward the sudden short sound, which reached our ears from the high ceiling.

  Those signals simulating a dainty strike of the bell clapper invariably reminded me of working days in the bank — with a very similar sound, the electronic queuing system informed visitors of their turn.

  "Well, l suppose it can wait; this is your Gate again."

  I looked up at the FIDS.

  NICO OLAF KIEHL MCMXLVII00781492 SOUTH GATE. DEPARTURE: HELL

  I nodded and stepped toward the check-in counter, which was operated by a welcomingly smiling, middle-aged woman.

  "Ms. Angerer, do you have the dossier?" I asked politely.

  "Wait a minute, dear," she said maternally, and I looked around the terminal again.

  One of the things I struggled to swallow was the carefree faces of my newly-minted colleagues. The fact that they all so readily accepted their fate instilled both horror and distrust. I looked at the smiling face of the beautiful Judith and suddenly wanted to pinch myself to check that I'm not dreaming, and all those people were really dead. I looked at the guys discussing some Canadian hockey players and struggled with the hysterical desire to burst out laughing.

  "How long is that going to..." I started to ask, but I fell silent when I heard an odd sound. The sound startled me because I knew very well what usually makes it, but I was definitely not ready to hear it here, in the place of temporary habitation of souls after death.

  "Is this..." I glanced at Ms. Angerer. " What is that... a printer?"

  She nodded casually, and I could feel the shock on my face.

  I stepped closer to the counter and leaned forward, peering behind the transaction shelf.

  There was a monitor display on the desk, it looked like a quite old-fashioned large tablet, without any input devices.

  "A computer?" I stuttered.

  "Sure, dear."

  I glanced at the glittery label in the right down corner of the display.

  LIMBUS XVIII OS

  "Is this a joke or something?" I mumbled, still stunned.

  Ms. Angerer's eyes were full of pity.

  I watched her fingers pulled out a stack of paper from a laser printer, which was built into the desk shell under the tablet.

  "Nico Kiehl," she smiled at me warmly, handing me the papers fastened with a large black paperclip.

  I shook my head, incredulous, trying to reassemble my dazed thoughts.

  I guess I had no choice but to accept voluntarily the delusional madness reigned here.

  "Thank you," I muttered, casting another glance at the tablet.

  Not a big deal, I scoffed to myself, just another dimension's computer, huh?

  "Where am I?"

  I turned around sharply.

  Damn it.

  There was a man in the doorway of the South Gate leading to the jet bridge; he looked at me in panic, waiting for someone to answer his dozen of question occurred.

  "Mr. Kiehl?" I asked as I ran up to him.

  "Yes," the man answered weakly.

  "Sorry for the wait," I said blandly. "Follow me, please."

  "Where am I?" Kiehl repeated, he clearly was not going to follow me, the stranger, blindly, and I didn't dare to condemn him for mistrust.

  I patiently pulled my polite working smile onto my lips.

  "I am very sorry," I said. "But you died. I'm here to accompany you to your next destination point."

  The man's glance hardened; I think if he were still alive, his face would turn red with fury.

  "What the hell?" he yelled at me. "My two daughters are home alone; you think that's funny?"

  This is bad, this is very bad, the voice in my head whispered.

  "Um... Sir, I'm sorry, I just..."

  Suddenly, the man grabbed the collar of my shirt.

  "Who the fuck are you and where am I?" he growled.

  "Mr. Kiehl, calm down, please, you..."

  I didn't expect that.

  Even though my body, as Moritz claimed, was just a projection of my soul, I felt very clearly and vividly the heavy blow of a man's fist on my jaw. No, I doubted that he managed to broke my jaw or a tooth, but the pain was wholly corresponding, astonished me with its force.

  I heard a few gasps and alarmed exclamations from the transfers somewhere nearby; Evi and three guys ran up to me to help.

  "Mr. Kiehl, calm down, please," Evi said, but it was obviously not the right time for respectful conversations.

  Kiehl rushed at me again: this time, he grasped my neck and squeezed it. Of course, I could not suffocate, although the pain didn't diminish of realizing this. Stiff fingers gripped my neck tightly, but after a minute of an obscure struggle, transfers dragged him off me, and I finally felt relieved.

  "You are all crazy!" the man yelled, trying vainly to yank himself off the hands of transfers. "Psychopaths! Let go of me! What the hell is going on here?"

  "Sven," one of the transfers turned to me, "sign the dossier; we'll throw him out."

  I shook my head, trying to clear it and snatched the wrinkled papers from the floor.

  "You're trembling," Evi said, gazing at my fingers as I was placing my uneven signature above the empty dotted line next to the departure destination. "It's so unnatural. You're out of breath..."

  "It is natural," I grumbled, emphasizing the second word.

  Evi was grinning at me. I could imagine how it looked like — as if I still didn't want to accept my situation. And that was true. Of course, I wasn't shaking deliberately — I guess that was a reflex, which remained from the memories of my previous, real body. But I resolutely denied the idea to change the habit of breathing. I wanted to have at least something human in me because I felt I was slowly but surely becoming a goddamn robot.

  "So, does this happen a lot?" I asked.

  Evi shook her head.

  "Not really. The normal response to death is shock so violent impulses don't awaken immediately. That's why it's very important not to slow the whole process down, meeting new arrivals right away."

  I looked at the dossier in my hands; my gaze lingered on the word HELL in the destination line.

  It wasn't difficult to understand why his shock so quickly gave way to the rage.

  "... My two daughters are home alone; you think that's funny?"

  It seemed that this man had two colossally good reasons to fight for his life.

  5. UNACCOMPANIED MINORS

  "I felt pain... It's gone as soon as he let me go, but... it was real."

  I was in the break room again, in the place I involuntarily considered the safest here. This time I was accompanied by a girl named Annika, who witnessed that fight between my newcomer and me.

  She smiled wistfully at my words.

  "It's all real here. As much as it can be and even more."

  "More?" />
  "Hmm," she murmured as if carefully choosing her next words. "In the Lower Level, any increasing pain you feel will finally end up killing you, right? But here, you won't die. You can feel its whole range and suffer as long as the cause of it exists."

  "Oh," I could only say, looking at her and wondering if I really want to know how is she knows that. Her voice was subtle, and her facial features hinted at the lack of a legal right to drink alcohol.

  "How... how old are you?" I asked bluntly.

  "Seventeen," she answered, and I nodded.

  As I thought, she was just a kid.

  "How long have you been here?"

  "About a month or so... But it feels like ages."

  She looked down at her hands; her hair almost completely hid her face from my gaze.

  "Hypoglycemia," she answered my mute question. "And here I am. It seems like it was an eternity ago. Here time feels a bit different."

  I nodded; it was pretty clear what she was talking about. I did not know how much time I spent here, and my guesses ranged from one night to a couple of days.

  Hiding my face in my hands, I shook my head in disbelief.

  "I don't understand... I still don't understand," I muttered.

  "What?"

  I looked at Annika.

  "Kids... They also obliged to 'work' to get their place in paradise?"

  Annika grinned bitterly.

  "I guess. Those are the rules."

  "The rules," I echoed. "Seriously, who made up these rules? Why everyone blindly follows them?"

  "I've been wondering the exact same thing," Annika said. "Because... You know, it doesn't make sense. Even following all the rules do not promise us Paradise. Evi has been here for six years, although no one knows a person who would be more loyal to their duties then she."

  We both were silent for a moment.

  "You know, I'm not surprised that some people here went nuts," I said after a second of thought.

  "You mean..."

  "That naked guy."

  Annika started laughing.

  "He's not... He's not nuts," she finally said with a smile. She seemed to be laughing at my expression. "Actually, he's kind of fine guy."

  "I hope he didn't dare to..."

  "No. He was definitely taken aback when he found out that there are minors in here."