Upgrades

He just knew that it wasn’t going to be a good day the moment he opened his eyes.

He hit the button on the alarm clock to stop the thing jangling. Despite the way he felt, it would probably turn out to be a day just like any other. He washed and dressed, made breakfast and ate it, walked to the bus shelter and found a seat. The 47b came on time. He sat for twelve minutes and he got off in town. He was crossing the street to get to the office when he heard someone shout. It sounded like ‘look out’, but he couldn’t be sure. The next thing he knows, he’s looking up into the morning sky when he hears the swish and thud of doors closing. He suddenly found himself in an elevator, going up.

As he stepped out, an attendant wearing jeans and t-shirt approached. He was chewing gum.

Looking around frowning, the newcomer said, “Hello. What do I do? Sorry, I’m new to this.”

“Course you are, mate. You’re dead.”

“Yes, you’re right; of course. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. It’s quite natural to feel nervous.”

Taking another look around, he said, “Sorry, but… sorry, I said sorry again.” He shrugged. “I’ll try not to tell you I’m sorry, despite the fact that I really am, of course, to be here, I mean.” He shrugged again. “Anyway, I was expecting to find some nice old man with a beard standing in front of pearly gates, deciding whether he should let me in or not.”

The attendant chortled. “No. No. Nothing like that. Not anymore. We’ve had upgrades.” He chewed for a bit. “Management has decided on a two-pronged approach; we’ve gone both digital and layback.” He dropped his voice. “I don’t mind telling you, we on staff are very happy with the changes.” He took his gum out, looked at it and put it back. “Personally, I think it’s really great that I can chew gum.”

“Yes. I can see that. So then… mate, what do I have to do?”

“Ah! I thought you get around to asking. Simple really.” He jerked his thumb sideways. “Just step over to the machine there.”

The newcomer turned to see a machine that hadn’t been there before.

The attendant went on, “Just log in and answer a few simple questions. Any problems, just yell and I’ll materialise and give you a hand. My name’s Clive, by the way.”

With that, he was gone.

“Oh! OK, Clive. Sounds good. Thanks,” he said, to the space where the other had stood a moment before. He stepped across to something that looked like a jukebox and read the instructions that automatically came up on the screen as he drew close.

It read: If you feel that, during your time, you’ve not done anything really wrong, press ‘A’.

Looking down at the alphabetical keypad, it only had three buttons marked ‘A’, ‘B’ and ‘C’. He pressed ‘A’.

After a few beats, the instructions faded and a new message came into focus.

It read: ‘Yes. That tallies with our records. What was your cause of death? If the cause was natural, such as one that comes about as a result of an internal factor that causes the body to shut down, press ‘A’. If the cause was unnatural, such as accident, homicide, suicide, drowning, poisoning, et cetera, please press ‘B’.

He thought for a moment, then pressed ‘B’.

For a while, he stood waiting. Finally, the new text appeared. It read: Confirmation of data provided is now complete. You may now return to the elevator.

As he approached the doors, they opened with a swish. He stepped in and it began to rise.

He was happy with that, but couldn’t help wondering what the ‘C’ button was for.