1. Welcome to the Temporary Afterlife (Population: Suffering)
Ne Job stared at the glowing red number on the wall:
> CURRENT SERVING: 0000000000000002
He checked his ticket again.
> QUEUE NUMBER: 14,382,991
He exhaled dramatically.
"If I die of boredom in the afterlife, does that count as a second death?"
The cosmic clerk behind the floating reception desk—an ethereal entity shaped like a glowing jellyfish with glasses—did not look up.
"Sir, all temporary deaths are strictly single-count. Additional emotional deaths are not reimbursable."
Ne Job leaned over the counter.
"Is there, like… express processing?"
"No."
"Premium lane?"
"No."
"VIP subscription?"
"No."
"Okay, but what if I—"
"NO."
Ne Job slumped.
"So how long is the queue?"
The clerk tapped their tablet.
"Estimated wait time: five hundred ninety-nine point seven years."
Ne Job screamed internally.
"This is worse than the Mortal RMV line."
The clerk nodded sympathetically.
"We get that a lot."
---
2. The Afterlife Queue Has Its Own Society. Unfortunately.
Ne Job wandered to the back of the line—a glowing pathway stretching through infinite white nothingness.
He passed:
A man loudly complaining he shouldn't be here because "I died ironically, that should count as bonus points!"
A demon on coffee break.
A cloud spirit knitting an existential scarf.
A skeleton filling out a customer feedback form labeled "HOW DEAD ARE YOU TODAY?"
Finally, he reached the end of the line:
A cluster of ghosts playing cards.
One looked up.
"New guy?"
Ne Job nodded.
"How'd you die?"
"Temporary training accident."
The ghosts paused.
"…Oh. You're one of those interns."
Ne Job bristled.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
A ghost patted his shoulder, hand passing through him.
"You poor thing."
---
3. Year 1: Ne Job vs. Bureaucracy
Ne Job immediately tried to file a complaint.
"I'd like to speak to management."
"You cannot."
"I'd like to speak to the manager of management."
"You cannot."
"Then bring me the manager of that manager."
The jellyfish clerk sighed.
"Sir, this is the afterlife. There are no managers."
"…That explains a lot."
He filed a complaint anyway.
It was eaten by a void shredder.
He filed again.
Also shredded.
By Year 1, Ne Job had filed 1,200 complaints.
All shredded.
He began naming the void shredder.
He called it Chonky Boi.
---
4. Year 42: Ne Job Invents Customer Service Warfare
The queue had not moved.
Ghosts had grown beards.
Somebeards floated.
Ne Job stood on a glowing cube, holding a megaphone.
"LISTEN UP. THIS QUEUE IS A LIE. WE CAN RISE UP AND—ACK—"
A cosmic bouncer dragged him away like a misbehaving toddler.
"Sir, please refrain from inciting an Afterlife Union."
Ne Job pointed dramatically.
"But the people need representation!"
"There are no people here."
"THEN THE DEAD NEED REPRESENTATION!"
Pause.
"…Also denied."
Ne Job wept.
---
5. Year 130: Something Changes
The clerk blinked at their tablet.
"Oh."
Ne Job perked up.
"OH? OH WHAT? DID I MOVE UP?"
"Yes," the clerk said. "Your number advanced."
Ne Job looked at the giant display on the wall:
> CURRENT SERVING: 0000000000000003
He screamed.
"That took ONE HUNDRED THIRTY YEARS?!"
The clerk shrugged.
"Congratulations, sir."
"I WANT TO FIGHT GOD."
"You are in the wrong queue for that."
He considered switching lines.
There were no other lines.
---
6. Year 300: Ne Job Becomes… Different
After three centuries, several things were true:
Ne Job no longer blinked.
He no longer flinched at void screams.
He had memorized the Afterlife Customer Service Handbook.
He had also eaten it (accidentally).
Ne Job stared into the endless white.
"…I understand everything."
The card-playing ghosts looked concerned.
"New guy," one said, "you're scaring me."
Ne Job turned slowly.
"I can see the fabric of the queue."
The ghosts panicked.
"He's gone queue-mad! Somebody fetch the jellyfish!"
---
7. Year 599.7: The Ticket Turns Silver
The clerk gasped.
"Number 14,382,991—your turn."
Ne Job rose from his meditative floating posture.
A silver glow emanated from his ticket.
The void parted.
A door formed—made of overlapping forms, receipts, and unsent emails.
Ne Job stepped forward.
The clerk gave a little bow.
"Thank you for waiting."
Ne Job whispered:
"I regret everything."
He walked through—
—
---
8. Return to the Archive (with Trauma)
Ne Job crashed back into the Archive with a gasp—
"HHHHHHHHHHH—"
He faceplanted into floating ink.
Qi-Yun sat calmly, sipping tea.
"Welcome back."
Ne Job lifted his head slowly.
"I was… dead… for six hundred years."
Qi-Yun nodded.
"Did you learn anything?"
Ne Job's left eye twitched.
He spoke in a low, emotionless whisper.
"I learned every customer service policy ever made."
Qi-Yun blinked.
"…Unexpected."
"I also learned how to file a complaint directly to the void."
Qi-Yun paused again.
"…Very unexpected."
Ne Job leaned closer.
"I named the void shredder."
Qi-Yun set the tea down.
"Enough. It is time for the next stage."
Ne Job recoiled.
"THERE'S ANOTHER STAGE?!"
"Of course."
Qi-Yun stood.
"You have died. Now you must learn to un-die."
Ne Job blinked.
"That sounds worse."
Qi-Yun smiled faintly.
"It is."
---
9. Outside — Yue Feels It
Back in the Void Storeroom, Yue straightened abruptly.
Ling noticed.
"Yue? What's wrong?"
Yue stared upward.
"I… felt something."
"Ne Job?" Ling asked.
Yue nodded slowly.
"Yes.
He's alive again."
She paused.
"More importantly…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"…he is annoyed."
Ling shuddered.
"That's never good."
---
END OF CHAPTER 186