Office worker
My name this week is Tim Reeper. Human Resources chose it. Apparently G. Reaper sounded made up.
I've got a suit, a desk, and a password I had to change before I'd used it. After a week sleeping outside, I was grateful for the chair. I intended to remember that when the job became irritating.
It took 9 minutes.
Monday
Missed the bus. My supervisor asked why I hadn't left earlier. I asked why the bus hadn't left later. Only one of us was allowed to consider his own time important, and it wasn't the new boy.
He said we were a family here. I'd seen enough families to know that could go either way.
At my cubicle, I opened the newspaper to the job advertisements. Yes, on my first morning. I like to be prepared for opportunities, especially opportunities to leave.
"Timbo!"
The man in the next cubicle wanted to show me a video. I said I had work to do.
"It's only 30 seconds."
Then it shouldn't matter if I fucking miss it.
He showed me anyway. Watched my face the entire time. Now I had to perform the enjoyment as well as watch the video. When it ended, he said, "Wait, there's another one."
My phone rang. Never been so pleased to hear the Devil.
He had a collection nearby, a man due to die on the commuter train. My ordinary work was still my responsibility. The report was due tonight. Then he asked how the office was going.
I said, "Can I call you back?"
It was the first honest thing I'd said all morning.
The crash
Heard the train before I saw it. Metal scraping, a bang that shook the windows, then people getting up from their desks. Someone shouted that it had come off the track.
The collection list changed. More names. I looked for my supervisor. He was asking whether our internet would be affected.
I left without waiting for permission.
Outside, people were running towards the wreck and away from it. A woman stood holding one shoe. I stepped between smoking pieces of carriage, my cheap suit untouched by the heat. The bodies I wear have to survive the assignment. The people beside me had no such guarantee.
The man from the morning's list was sitting beside his body, watching a stranger try to save him. He asked if it was working.
"No."
He kept watching. I stayed beside him. I could already hear someone else calling for me, but hauling him away would leave him looking back for the whole journey.
When he finally stood, he asked who the stranger was. I didn't know. Neither of us did. The stranger kept trying.
I got him through, then went back for the others. I checked each name before going back in. I wasn't leaving anyone waiting.
The interview
A paramedic caught me coming out of the wreckage and sat me on the back of an ambulance. He checked my eyes. Asked if I could hear him.
"Unfortunately."
He laughed. I hadn't been joking, but I was glad somebody was having a reasonable conversation.
A reporter pushed a microphone towards my face while the paramedic was still talking. "How do you feel right now?"
I asked whether she had a list to choose from.
"Were you frightened?"
"Would you like me to be?"
She asked if I could describe the moment of impact. Behind her, a man was trying to call his wife. He kept getting voicemail. The reporter moved a little to the left so he wouldn't be in the shot.
I told her he needed help. She said someone would be with him in a minute. Then asked me to start my answer again, using her question in the sentence.
"I feel like you should get that fucking microphone out of my face."
They didn't ask for another take.
The paramedic let me go after I'd answered his questions. I made another pass through the wreckage. One woman was hiding behind a seat because she thought refusing to see me might mean I couldn't see her. We talked for a while. Eventually she took my hand.
By the time I left, nobody was still calling.
Back at the office
My supervisor wanted to know where I'd been. I pointed through the window. There was still smoke.
"I understand," he said. "But you need to communicate."
I could have told him exactly what had happened. I pictured the conversation. Him nodding, waiting for me to finish so he could ask whether I'd logged the time. I said I'd remember next time.
The man in the next cubicle had his phone ready. I braced myself.
He put it down and asked if I was all right.
"Yes."
He nodded. Didn't ask anything else. Offered me half his sandwich.
Fucking hell. Cheese again.
After work
Got home to my little apartment and looked in the cupboard. Nothing to eat. I'd been so pleased to have a cupboard that I hadn't put anything in it.
Checked my phone. The crash was already a video. People who hadn't been there were explaining what everybody should have done. A man I'd seen carrying someone away was being criticised for how he'd held her.
Started typing a reply. Deleted it. Started again, this time with "Listen, you useless cunt," which I felt established the necessary context.
The Cloven One called for my report.
I told him about the man on the train. The stranger trying to save him. My colleague and the sandwich. He asked how any of that would make arrivals easier to process.
"Let them finish talking."
"We don't have time for that."
I was sitting in a locked room, in clean clothes, with somewhere to sleep. I wanted to keep it. I also wanted to tell him he sounded exactly like my supervisor.
My phone lit up with the next collection. A name. An address.
I put my coat back on.
G. Reaper.