The Secretary

Lila was not her name, but it was etched into her nametag in shimmering gold letters.

She couldn’t remember when, or how, but at some point she awoke in a white room with no windows and blaring white lights, trapped in an endless loop of speaking to the dead.

The shape of an older woman stood before her, her mouth and her arms moving. She thought it was almost comical; many of the people that arrived at the Checkpoint 1 were animated and irritable. The same anger, the same questions.

She must be zoning off again. A headache pressed behind her eyes, her severe bun taut against her head. She resisted the urge to massage the pain away.

Secretaries shouldn’t feel pain.

“--are you listening to me?” The old woman’s voice rose above the noise in the Secretary’s brain. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the woman’s frame. “Need another update, or is there a glitch in the system?”

She was gray, translucent enough to warrant that she hadn’t paid her dues.

“I’m a Schedule Secretary,” the Secretary said. “To pay bills, or questions about insurance, please locate Checkpoint 2 with the Help Desk Secretary.”

“I paid my dues,” the lady seethed.

“If you would like to schedule a date for extraction, or questions about placement, identification, or family and spouses, I am happy to help.”

“I paid the bills. My family is in Eurasia, and I can’t travel there.”

The woman’s eyes focused back on the woman. She saw her forehead crease, her eyes blackened from the heavy mascara she wore in the picture. She was dressed in a way that begged respect and dignity, but failed. Above her, her name appeared.

“Ms. Belange,” said the woman, “Traveling requires a permit. Your Afterlife Insurance does not seem to cover the required costs of the permit. It will have to be out of pocket, or you must work in Purgatory.”

“My employer did not mention it was extra,” the lady fumed. “I put all my money in there---millions! And you’re telling me I can’t see my family?”

As the lady went on with her rant, the Secretary swiped on her screen, Access Denied. The lady vanished as she screamed, and Lila felt every beating, every curse, as the lady was funneled into the system, back to Purgatory 1. She would get a headache for a week with the lady’s rage. She swallowed away the pain of limbs beating against her skull.

“Next,” Lila said, and a little blue figure stepped forward. She stared. She had endless lines that lasted all of eternity, and she never remembered a face, or a name. But she knew this was the youngest boy she had ever seen.

“Hi.” He shuffled forward, his colors bright. “I think I’m here to pick up my permit. I’m on Foundation Care.” The last bit, he uttered softly, as if afraid others would hear. They did anyway.

The dead had ears that the living could never possess. Foundation Care was a dirty word, and the air felt heavy with shame.

He was young, face unlined from war and worry. Fatigue lined his eyes instead, his clothing worn as if he hadn’t chosen the default Extractions when he died. It was as if he appeared now as he did when he was living--young, starved, dirty.

That was trauma. The dead held on to trauma, and forgot about the gift of painlessness offered by the Program. Of rebirth and purification. They chose to survive in death rather than embrace the feeling of nothingness.

She wondered how his parents could afford to have such a child, and then have him die. She wondered if she had Permitted his parents before him.

“Foundation Care is no longer permitted for Sector 5,” she pronounced. “I can help you locate your next station that is not Permit required. Located in Sector 13, it allows the deepest sleep. You will not think of anything but dreams and remember nothing but happiness.”

“I’m here to find my family. If not Foundation Care, what can I do?”

If she could sweat, she would have. His face was earnest, his eyes bright. In the blistering white light, he almost looked alive. She imagined rosy cheeks and black hair, desperation of youth sticking to him like dew.

His name glowed bright above him. Alex. No last name. That meant he was likely orphaned without knowledge of his family, possibly a donor child, sanctioned by the Foundation in efforts to repopulate.

“She’s my little sister. I don’t know what happened, but I woke up and I’m here. She said to follow her to Sector 5 before she passed through.”

As he spoke, a glimmer of a pale face, black suit, appeared from the walls. An identical copy of the Secretary walked through the building, heels clicking and echoing against the walls.

“Lila,” the woman said, stopping next to the boy. Her eyes were round, glassed over, her cheeks a perfect blush. Her nametag was blue, indicating she was a Secretary.

“Stephanie,” said the Secretary. “You appear updated.”

“I am fine. How is your update?”

“It is working,” she said. “I’m feeling better.”

A small furrow etched Stephanie’s forehead, and she cocked her head. “Feel better? I had complaints that you are slower again. Please visit the Compiling room for a reevaluation.”

“I said--” the Secretary stopped herself, puzzled. Stephanie’s face was a mirror of her own, glaring at her in a way that made her shiver. Her eyes were beady, her complexion void of emotion, her spine too straight.

The Secretary was unknowingly giving herself away.

“I will be happy to,” she said, after a beat too long.

Stephanie stared at her, and the Secretary saw the cogs turning in her head. Her eyes flashed green, blue, and red. Finally, Stephanie gave a short nod.

“I have sent this conversation to Headquarters. The Foundation will be expecting you. Good Scheduling.” She turned, and clipped her way back through the wall. Blue heads turned, trailing her as she left.

She was gone, and the Secretary did not relax.

She stared at the little boy in front of her. “I can help you,” she stated. “But you must help me too.”

The boy nodded.

“You want another locket, is that correct? I need to get to Sector 5 as well.”

The boy jutted his chin. “Are you going to Deny me? Are you really a Secretary now?

“It does not matter,” she stated. “I am going to borrow it, then give it back to you.”

The boy smiled. “Are you living, or a program in Purgatory?”

“Alive,” she confirmed. She let her face relax, let her eyes return to normal. “They are going to kill me if I don’t leave.”

Under the counter, she pressed a window, and two chains appeared in her hands. A simple gold chain bearing a little heart. This was a permit to pass through the Sectors.

“Only the dead can pass. But I can hold on to you and pass with you,” she said.

“Or you’ll be put to sleep?”

She moved around the counter, taking the boy’s hand. “They will erase me. I am an error to the Foundation, because I keep remembering. Follow me.”

The boy followed her, and the line of people began to argue, shouting at the Secretary as she picked up her feet and ran. She handed Alex the locket, pressing a hand to the wall.

“Say where you want to go,” she stated. “This is an Afterlife Insurance permit. It will allow you to go through.”

He closed his eyes, and whispered, “Sector 5.”

The world vanished around the woman, and when she opened her eyes, she smelled salt and blue, colors she had no name of in a land she couldn’t remember but felt like she knew. She wasn’t updated to know what the trees were, or where the Sector was imagined from.

“My sister is here,” said the boy. He clutched the locket to his chest. “Thank you. I thought Secretaries couldn’t tell that they used to be alive. I didn’t think one would run away from the Foundation.”

“I thought so too,” said the Secretary. “But I feel things. I don’t know what they mean. The Foundation will be after me. A Secretary must do their job.”

“I heard a rumor another Secretary tried to run,” the boy said. “That was years ago, though. I hope you remember and stay.”

Lila turned, and felt the walls of the Sector begin to shake. “We must hurry. Find me after you see your sister and I will give you a Permit.”

Alex nodded, and took off running. His colors returned, the sun beaming on his back. She felt like she should run after him. The trees hazed around him, until he became a part of the scenery. A bustling town grew before her, and she saw the dead as alive as she could ever feel.

She smelled the air and felt the sun on her face, and she realized she had this memory once before. Many times before. She loosened her bun, her headache gone, slipped her feet into the sand. She didn’t know how time passed here, but she felt like the seconds turned into eons, chipping her away.

Sensations emerged--sweet scents of food and fruit, and the noise of people and wind. This was living.

She didn’t have much time. She ran towards the people, felt their gaze as she passed. They knew her. They stared too long, some waved. Some closed their doors when they saw her.

She arrived at a small house with a turquoise door. Outside, a woman sat.

“Little Angel!” The old woman rose from her seat. “You’ve come back!”

The women embraced, and the Secretary remembered her name.

“Mother,” she beamed. Quickly, she became somber. “Purgatory is horrible. I don’t think I can get insurance to come back again for a while. I haven’t paid my bills from the hospital. I have yet to get enough money to the Program to pay anything off but interest.”

“My angel, Purgatory is working in the afterlife. You’re a Secretary, but you will always find a way to see me. To remember.”

“What if it is an eternity? I always come back, but it seems to take longer and longer until I can barely remember my own name.”

“Eternity is all we have. Afterlife Insurance is difficult to get, and if you continue working, you may finally get the payment to come here. Permanently. I know you will.”

“They always make me forget.” She forgot more and more each time, until she felt like nothing but a cog. She felt her color return. Her face was not Lila, or a Secretary. In her mother’s embrace, her eyes returned to a warm brown, her hair a deep chestnut.

“But you always come back, my angel,” her mother grasped her hands. “You belong here. With the living dead.”

She did not have much time. She pressed the locket to her mother. “Give this to a boy named Alex.”

She sensed movement, and saw that the boy was in front of the house. He waved, and she stared at him, confused.

Her mother smiled. “Oh, angel, Alex always comes after you. He always gets an extra permit from you. Don’t you know who he is?”

She realized she would never see her mother again. She opened her mouth to ask who--and why he was there--but the world bled black and her mother’s face vanished.

Lila awoke, and was working. White walls, white floors, a skinny counter. A man stood before her, speaking. She passed permit after permit, the golden chains cold against her palm.

“How is your update?” Stephanie asked.

“I am fine,” said Lila. “Good day to you.”

“Good day, Lila,” Stephanie said. “You always are the best worker. Efficient and fast. We might never let you leave.”

Lila smiled.