1 Some are worked to death, some start after.
"You came?"
"Yes," she said to fill the silence.
The Receptionist grabbed his keys and led her through hallways and rooms she only passed through once, or at least, she only remembered passing through once, but it was paradoxically quite memorable. Who knows how many times a soul can be recycled. The Afterdeath Ministry only gives non-answers despite their oath of truth.
"Pardon my rudeness, but I didn't think you'd be one of them. You seemed just like another gal slowly settling down here and enjoying the afterlife." He spun the key ring around his index finger. They passed moving, looping images of people bursting into tears on their knees, begging for forgiveness, depictions of a looming darkness weighing on their shoulders as they cradled the little light they had. Others in their situations laughed as they let the light fall onto the floor and shatter, moments before the weighted sin pounced and they began to scream soundlessly.
Other pictures, films, were more benign. One person played stress ball with their lump of karmic sin as they wore their virtues like a crown. Another stood contemplating at both dark and light, unflinching as they seared and healed respectively. It was interesting, how people handled their good and bad, for it revealed what they had in between, their greyness. Her favorite was the person who looked for a long time at both, expression unreadable until he turned both into his companions, forms morphing into cats, dogs, snakes, anything really, following and circling him as he walked out of the Judgement with a chuckle.
It was the one she saw last before she herself was Judged.
The Receptionist arrived at an inconspicuous door.
What was there to say? It was just a door. A door that would lead her to her future, but really, any door does that. Ugh, she should know how to comfort herself better, because that sucked. Just like the inconspicuous handle of the inconspicuous door she had to press down herself.
"Hey, don't worry about it," he laid a hand on her shoulder. It was cold like a blast of winter wind and made her shiver. "Even if you're not cut out for this, it will find you cut for something else in our ranks."
Well, that was a vastly better attempt than hers, because it worked. She felt that she could best that stupid, normal-looking handle. It was metal and cold, and she pressed it down and opened the door.
"Welcome," said the Receptionist behind her. "To the Initiation, and no, we didn't mean to make it sound like a cult."
Haha.
"Well, that's my cue to leave. I'm the Receptionist, my job is done. Good luck, gal."
---
"You don't want your name?" The clerk stopped filling out her form, surprised by her decision. "But you don't have trauma attached to it or..."
"I'm me," she stated simply. "What made my name precious was what others thought of it and I made with it. Now that I'm here, it will not be used like it was intended in the future. It might even make me bitter towards it, or worse, hate myself."
"Didn't think you'd be a philosopher," he snorted, checking the box.
She smiled. "It's just a fancy word for overthinking things that can't be answered. I'm lucky that I can get tired of it and 'turn' it off."
"Haha, and let me guess, it's also a fancy word…?"
"For going: Whatever. Let me sleep."
The clerk shrugged. "Hope you'll keep that afterward. Good luck."
---
"You've read the materials?"
Nod.
"You realize that it will be a long and arduous process to update even one twig of a multiverse tree to our standards? How often you have to repeat said process until you can take a break?"
Nod nod.
"And you're sure that you're not some self-deluded wacko trying to save the day?"
She laughed, "I'm bored, drifting, and can't seem to settle down anywhere. Might as well make myself useful and maybe come out an elite agent. Does that count?"
The worker pushed a stack of paperwork towards her and a pen. "Yep, but at least you know. Sign."
---
Someone ripped a hole into reality. The drab, light-grey walls contorted and gaped to form a portal to her Tutorial. It led to a quaint, idyllic settlement that seemed to be cut out from the suburbs, with the coast to the south and a forest road to the north. A giant research center and Pokémon ranch were built in the east.
"Ye have yer Archive secure in yer noggin?"
The girl shot the Gatekeeper a dry look. It will be the only thing stopping her from going insane, how dare she forget it?
"Jus' sayin. The tree ye chose is very...Varied. So many ways to go wrong, so many branches canon. We tried ta locate an obscure one that won't kill ye 'ight off the bat, yet with issues to fix. The reports were iffy."
The girl shrugged. "Well, I'm afraid of pain and failure, not dying."
And she stepped through.
---
There wasn't much to do as a fetus, and it is a real challenge to keep scrolling through her Archive when you downloaded everything into your mind. Type matchups, possible moves, and diet? Basic and over. And that was all they put in there! Just as she was debating using the emergency signal to request for more material, cold air rushed in and a piercing pain rang through her senses with a crack. A bird screeched in rage, another squawked in triumph. Then she found herself back in front of the portal again, but this time, it was a static grey.
[Bugs detected. Please wait while the authorities investigate the issue.] The Archive supplied helpfully.
"The fuck happened? Was I a poké-egg?"
[Your analysis is correct. To be specific, you would have hatched into a spearow. From what is known so far, a rival fearow used Drillpeck on your mother's nest. She died valiantly, and now the flock is under the leadership of the foreign fearow.]
She tried very hard not to punch the wall. "I'm pretty sure I only agreed to be reincarnated as a humanoid or a 'magic beast' that could turn into a humanoid form."
[That is one of the bugs being investigated. Please wait until further consensus. As compensation, please choose one of the following: Hyper Intuition, highly increased rate of regeneration, or personal space.]
Her draw dropped. "Please tell me that the first option also comes with the realistic possibility of being and becoming Flame Active."
[Positive.]
"And how are the other options equal? Wait," she read through the list again. "Regeneration… It isn't specified to health. And personal space? Shit, is that what I'm thinking?"
[Postive, Host.]
The girl sighed. "Well, there is a big chance that there are weight and size bending backpacks anyway, seeing that there is pokéball technology. And there is no telling that I'd get anything else other than health, so I choose Hyper Intuition."
[Choice confirmed. Investigation completed results of higher clearance level than Host. Initializing library update and re-transfer.]
---
Another eternity of darkness spent in the hospitality of the Archive, the new additions were camping handbooks, foraging guides, first aid videos, and survival drills. This time, she chose to go over them the traditional way, if only to kill more time until she got impatient and downloaded it. There was a vast improvement in recall and retainment in the information she learned twice. So she went through all her books again and downloaded type matchups, possible moves, and diet for the second time, but there were no results this time. Grumbling, she went through it once again.
"Why does Grass beat Water? What does it do, drink it? Plants die from over-watering, trust me, I know."
[Yes, Host would know.]
"Oh my," she fake-gasped. "Is the Archive getting a personality? I'm so- INCOMING!"
Cold air and piercing pain again. She'd like to file a complaint.
---
There was only the choice between highly increased rate of regeneration and personal space. She chose the former in hopes that she could at least stare into the face of her mother.
The library offered basic RPG battle guides, science textbooks from primary to high school level, and an entire series of self-help books. She laughed until she saw the one about near-death experiences, then she groaned and finished it like the others before downloading it.
She was in the middle of trying to find her Dying Will Flames until she panicked and slammed the mental emergency button of the Archive. A cracking sound foretold the cold air and piercing pain again, with a tinge of blue. She screamed, but it was more like a squeak, and she stared numbly at the rattata's incoming teeth. Her neck was snapped.
---
"WHAT THE FUCK?! CAN'T THEY DO THEIR FUCKING JOB? A RATTATA, REALLY NOW?"
[Host, calm down.]
"Don't tell me to calm down, that is the exact opposite you tell a person who has lost their calm!" She has already punched her knuckles raw on the wall. "Fucking fuck fuck! Don't you know that rats and mice sometimes eat their fucking children?!"
[Only the children of others-]
"Fine! I guess that's what they are, selective cannibalists!"
[Cannibalism isn't so uncommon in the-]
"AAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!" She kicked the wall and stubbed her toe. "SONNUVABITCH!"
[Host-]
"How did you know?"
"SWEATY ASSCRACKS, THAT'S HOW!" She flopped onto the floor and rolled around, pummeling her fists onto the carpeted ground.
[Host-]
"Kinky."
"SHUT YOUR TRAP MOTHER-" She looked up. There stood the blank-faced and weathered Gatekeeper. He looked very tired. "Shit."
He waved her off. "Let's go get some snacks. Stress-eating doesn't matter if once you learn the right techniques."
She quickly got up and dusted herself off. "Yes, sir! About I just said… I'm really sorry, I should have-"
"Don't worry about it," he lead her to his office next to the portal. As he searched for the correct key within thousands on his key rings, he turned to her. "After all, you're being sabotaged."
The well-kneaded stress ball he gave her burst into blue flames within her clenched fist.
