Episode Notes
Most people fear death, but that is only the beginning. We learn all about the life of a Reaper, the trials, tribulations, and of course paperwork... Lots and lots of paperwork...
Reaper Requisitions by Christopher Dowell
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcription:
She felt numb. She remembered that it was only a short time ago when she felt her breaths slow and her body begin to cool. Everything seemed hazy, almost as though there was a film over her eyes. She couldn’t explain the feeling, but it felt as if everything had become disconnected, almost as though —
Her front door burst open with a loud bang as a mist began to pour into her home. Everything shifted to a pale shade of blue as a bell rang from all around her. Crows began to caw despite there not being any indication of the carrion feeders anywhere nearby. But something strange shook through her body as the tolling of the bell resounded: She couldn’t feel her heartbeat despite the fear coursing through her. Then, with a final ringing of the bell, silence filled her home.
A figure clad in black robes and a hood obscuring its face floated through the room and pointed at her. “Ask not for whom the bell tolls,” the figure in the black robes bellowed in a deep, echoing voice. “It tolls for thee.”
As the figure came closer to her, its boney finger motioning in a “come hither” gesture, she screamed and ran as fast as she could to the back of her house and burst out of the back door.

“Listen, running just makes us mad and makes our job harder, okay?” The woman and the figure she now knew as “the reaper” stood in front of an elevator waiting for it to arrive. The reaper’s voice was now higher-pitched than it had been before. “Plus they won’t update our uniform. Seriously, running in these robes is annoying.”
The woman shook. “S-s-sorry.”
The reaper put its hand on the woman’s shoulder. She jumped. “It’s alright. Dying isn’t easy and, well, the show I like to put on makes it a little worse. But you’ll thank me for making your death seem like a memorable and significant experience after you’ve finished the 8,000 years of paperwork it takes to get you properly set up in the afterlife.”
Tears began to form on the edges of the woman’s eyes.
“I’m kidding. It’s not that much paperwork. But it is seriously boring.”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The reaper took the woman’s hand and led her inside. An uncountable number of buttons lined the walls of the elevator and the reaper pressed the lowest one. The elevator jerked to life as it descended. The reaper saw the woman clench and her body tighten.
“It’s alright. Just because we’re going down doesn’t mean we’re ‘going down,’ if you know what I mean.” The reaper leaned against the wall. “You might as well get comfortable. We’re going to be on this elevator for a while. If you have anything to ask, you’ve got the time before we get you processed.”
“Processed?” The woman turned, her eyes wide as she stared into the black void inside the reaper’s hood.
“Yeah. When we get to the ground floor you’ll get put in the department that best suits you. Or you could always choose to be a reaper, but, eh… ” The reaper trailed off as it stared into the woman’s eyes. “You’re better off just going where they put you.”
“Where they put me?” The woman looked away from the reaper’s hood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not too complicated. You see, what you’ve been told about the afterlife is somewhat true, but there are some differences. First off, there’s no Heaven, Hell, eternal punishment, eternal paradise, or so on.” The reaper sat down on the elevator’s floor and motioned for the woman to join it. She didn’t. “What we have instead is a bureaucratic, ‘efficient’ business situation where people are assigned tasks based upon their strengths shown in life.”
“Wait, then why are we going down?”
“Because that’s where the Assignment desk is.”
The woman slumped to the floor, hitting a few buttons on the side of the wall as she did so. “So you’re saying that all the good, all the bad I did in life doesn’t matter? You’re saying the only thing that matters is how good I am at filing documents?”
The reaper turned to look at her sitting on the floor beside him. “Paperwork, spreadsheets, flipping burgers, whatever career you’ve been found to excel at. Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Also,” the reaper motioned to the lit up buttons on the wall. “You shouldn’t have done that. We’re going to be in this elevator forever now.” 
“Wait, forever?” the woman’s eyes grew wide once more.
“Not literally forever. Maybe like 20 minutes. But it’ll feel like forever.”
The woman and the reaper sighed along with one another.

“Listen, boss, we gotta talk.” The reaper burst through the office door as a man in a pinstripe suit jumped.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking, 7142?” the man said as he rearranged the paperwork on his desk.
“Haven’t you heard of keeping your promises?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, 7142, but if you have an issue, you know the proper procedure.”
The reaper sat down in an empty chair in front of the pinstripe-suited man’s desk. “Listen, boss, I’m not going to go down to Complaints. It will take 70 years before you even get an acknowledgement that there’s a complaint filed, let alone know its content or go to Reparations to ensure that the complaint is received.” The reaper leaned forward. “No, I’m not going to wait any longer.”
“Whatever are you talking about, 7142?” The pinstripe-suited man rubbed at his temples. “You’ve got work to do. Those souls aren’t going to ferry themselves.”
The reaper stood up, knocking the chair over as he did so. “That’s exactly why I’m here. When I took this job I was told I could retire once I ferried a billion souls. The woman I just brought down to Assignments makes 100 million more than that. I’m done, boss.”
The pinstripe-suited man opened a drawer and pulled out a file labeled “7142” and opened it. He licked his fingers as he leafed through the documents, stamping and initialing random pages as he did so. He leaned back in his chair.
“You’re right, 7142. It seems you were due for retirement 100 million souls ago. However,” the pinstripe-suited man slid a form across his desk to the reaper, “if you look at your contract you’ll see that part of your retirement requires you to send in a request to train a replacement before you can resign. I have yet to receive a request to train a new reaper, 7142.”
The reaper snatched the paper off the pinstripe-suited man’s desk. It read the words on repeat and saw — in the smallest print the reaper could read with squinted eyes — that yes, at 1 billion souls he was to send a request form — in quadruplicate — to Reaper Requisitions for a recruit to train as an intern until which point said intern could perform tasks on its own. 
The reaper shook its head. “I need to take a long lunch today, boss. I have some paperwork to fill out.”
The pinstripe-suited man slid a form across his desk. “You’ll need to fill this out and wait for approval before you can take your long lunch. And I’m also giving you an infraction for busting in here without an appointment. You know the rules.”
The reaper’s shoulders slumped, and it shook its head as it took the forms and a yellow paper infraction. That yellow piece of paper meant the reaper would have to bring in another million souls.

61 years after the meeting with its boss, the reaper received approval to take a long lunch. This meant the reaper gained an extra 10 minutes to its break-time.
When the reaper reached the Complaints Department, it already had its paperwork filled out and signed in quadruplicate. The reaper didn’t think it would take any longer to include a complaint about the robes. If approved, that complaint would allow the next generation of reapers to enjoy the freedom afforded to them by actual pants. But the reaper doubted it would get approved — at least not any time soon.
After the reaper filed its request for an intern and its complaint about the robes its lunch had ended without it having time to eat anything. It would have to pick up something to eat during its next soul run. It wouldn’t be the first time the reaper had to eat on the job.

“7142,” the speaker rang out as the reaper sat in Reaper Requisitions 124 years after filing his request for an intern.
The reaper stood up and walked to the window where a woman in a pant-suit sat behind plexiglass. She didn’t look up at the reaper as she stamped stacks of papers, which was fine. It allowed the reaper some time to admire the woman's pants and long for the feeling of pleated fabric caressing its inner thighs. The woman cleared her throat, breaking the reaper out of its pants fantasy.
“Get to the point and stop dilly-dallying,” the pant-suited woman said, still not looking up at the reaper. “You have no idea how busy it’s been for the past few centuries.”
“Sorry.”
“So you’re here for an intern, right? I hope you’re not here to keep inundating us with that uniform crap,” the pant-suited woman stopped stamping and looked at the reaper. “Do you have any idea how much more work a uniform change would cause?”
“I sure don’t. That’s not my department.”
The pant-suited woman scoffed. “Of course,” she continued moving papers and stamping them. “Just take this form and go down to processing and walk down the hall. There are recruits waiting there. Interview them and pick the best fit." The pant-suited woman slid a form to the reaper, and it took it. 
“I thought you all procured and interviewed the interns. I don’t have time to take off to interview them. Isn’t that exactly what your departmen