Document2, p.2
Document2, page 2
I sensibly decided not to shrug. "I was told to bring you back to the orphanage."
"Who told?"
I tried to remember. "I don't know," I replied truthfully.
"It couldn't have been the old bag. She hates me."
"The last thing I remember--" I grimaced. "You must have had help."
"It wasn't me. The scum who dragged you here for a few pennies, brought me along for the same reason."
"Dragged me?"
"Each had a foot."
Which explained my sore head and back. I pictured myself being hauled through the streets past grinning spectators, and was grateful I was unconscious at the time.
"What about the fellow who, er--"
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"Him?" Again the tinkling laugh as she reached down as if to scratch her leg, suddenly produced a small, wicked looking knife. She looked at it fondly. "He's one of the girls now."
I watched her return the knife to its invisible sheath.
The movement was so swift, I wondered if she had been Billy the Kid in a previous life. "You didn't treat me too well either. Dammit, I was trying to help you!"
Her sharp little teeth gleamed in the candlelight. "You got in the way," she told me pleasantly as she yanked the pillow out from under my head and jammed it down on my face.
"I don't like it when people do that."
Death by natural causes.
She was too smart to use the knife.
As I faded to black, I had an intense feeling this was not the first time I had expired in such an inglorious and undignified manner--
PART 4
The end of the beginning.
Smith was quite good looking without the glasses, even seemed younger--correction, she was younger. No wonder I had not recognized her until now. I should have realized that time, along with its baggage of pasts, presents and futures, is one tyranny which has no jurisdiction in this place. She had on a dress which shimmered, a floppy hat, and a smile as warm as the sun which shone through the open drapes. The city gleamed in the distance.
"Are you going somewhere?"
She said happily, "In a while. First I want to congratulate you on successful completion of the first phase of your reclamation. At least you will not have to suffer any more indignities."
"That's nice." Each of the numerous times I was in this office, I was mocked by the memories of my assignments--and how I was always suckered. No more indignities? Hah!
She gestured at the window. "I am leaving for a little R and R, after which I will engage in activities
considerably more rewarding than--" She looked around her.
"--this."
"Who will replace--"
"Do you ever wonder what C.S.W. stands for?"
I shrugged. "I assume Christian something-or-oth--"
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"All faiths are equal here, Luv. C.S.W. is Cosmic Social Workers."
"Oh?" A twinge of interest.
"We are the training school for what the locals refer to as Gabriel's Irregulars."
"Gabriel's--" I began.
"Angels," she said as I wondered if she would allow me to finish a sentence. "You know, the people who keep popping up to fix things." She removed the framed newspaper clipping from the wall and tossed it into the waste basket. "I certainly don't need that any more." She pulled on a pair of white gloves, picked up a matching purse and headed for the door marked E.
"Hey, what about me?"
Hand on the doorknob, she stopped and turned. "Oh, didn't I tell you? The desk is yours now. Although you may find the job a little tedious sometimes, you can always liven things up by inserting yourself into the plot--as I often did. Goodby, Leo." It was the first time she used my given name.
She opened the door and stepped outside. I heard the trill of birds, smelled growing things, heard her single comment, "Beautiful!", and the door closed behind her. I went to the window and watched her walk toward the city until she was just a speck in the distance--and was gone. I closed the drapes, turned around and was not surprised to see that the room had adopted itself to the more garish tastes of its new occupant.
I sat behind the huge marble-top desk and looked at the computer screen. A name popped up and lines of data. The C.S.W. door opened and the Grim Reaper brought in my first client. Grimacing at the stench, which made me think of a warehouse full of unwashed socks, I hurriedly dismissed the G.R. Then I introduced myself to the client.
"How do you do. My name is Smith. Not Mr Smith, just Smith--"
Later, as I gloomily wondered how long (subjective time that is) I would be stuck with this job before they allowed me to follow the previous Smith through door E, I noticed the framed clipping in the waste basket. I retrieved it and under the date-line June 6th, 2041 read;
DATE-EXPIRED VACCINE RELABELED AND SHIPPED TO THIRD WORLD
THOUSANDS DIE
C.E.O CELIA VRASKIN CHARGED WITH CONSPIRACY AND MURDER
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HELL AIN’T WHAT IT USED TO BE
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Now I knew the worst of my sins.
Have a nice eternity, daughter.
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Sanjay Amin, Document2
