Prologue
One of my last thoughts, strangely enough, was that if I survived the accident, my daughter would never let me live it down.
She had been arguing for a couple of months that my attention lapses made it unsafe for me to drive, and I argued every time that she still had more accidents a year than I'd had in the fifty-odd years I'd been driving. I had had a spotless driving record for my entire life, and even at seventy-three I could still escape from a skid without more than a quickened pulse. She was right about my attention, though; it had been going as I got older. I used to be sharp as a tack, but I suppose that this tack had been pushed into a few too many ten-page religious pamphlets to have the point that it once did.
It was this that ran through my head -- all very quickly, mind you -- as I stared into the lights of an offensively large SUV (a Suburban, I momentarily thought. Why would anybody in the suburbs need a car that damn big?). I also had enough time to realize that I had lapsed and run the red light as I watched the SUV barrel down Route 355 and straight toward my car. I felt the impact more than I saw it, and soon I was white-knuckle gripping the steering wheel as my car spun full-circle across the lanes of Redland Road. My life didn't so much flash before my eyes as my daughter did, a sort of “I told you so” look in her eyes. I had just enough time to curse anyone who'd ever owned an SUV and see the wall of the nearby housing complex's gate speed toward my window and then everything went white.
I woke up dead.
I wasn't in my body, as such. I've always tried to keep an open mind about this sort of thing, so I wasn't really sure what to look for. My first inclinations were to look for either a guy in white robes and angel wings, a white light, or the rotten-egg smell of brimstone. I was rewarded with nothing but pitch darkness at first, but that was all right; I was ready for oblivion too, thanks to that Neechy bastard.
Before too long, I began to make out very vague shapes. Vague forms shifted in the space around me, slowly becoming more distinct as though my eyes were adjusting to low light. A sound, too, began to make itself apparent to me; a low murmur reverberated through the air. I felt myself, or what there was of me, and slowly twisted my way through the air. I didn't know where I was going, but it felt good to move again. I could almost feel shapes of other things sliding about me, and the murmuring almost seemed to make a little sense.
One of the shapes began to wriggle away from the rest, gaining a slightly more distinct shape and moving with a bit more intensity. A white shape flashed in my vision for a moment and was hidden. The shape got larger and moved more intensely, and I was gripped with a sudden fear. I tried to make noise, but did not yet know how. I tried to twist away, but I could not seem to move quickly enough to get away from the shadowy form. It grew larger and larger, taking on monstrous shapes and writhing in front of me. Then I saw the white flash again, and it flew toward me. I froze.
It was a brochure.
The shape stared at me, holding the brochure and waiting for me to take it. Hesitantly, I reached out a pseudopod and obtained the white piece of folded paper. The shape wriggled back into the mass and vanished from sight. I was left gazing at the brochure, which was now subsumed into my 'body'. With no better idea, I unfolded it and began to read.
Life need not end at death!
So you've died. A tragic loss, to be sure; never again will you hold the hand of your loved one, feel the breeze on your face, or bite into a juicy steak. Or will you?
Depending on your life record, you may be eligible for a unique and incredible career in fate management here at Powers-Thattby Inc.! The living world needs a guiding hand, and we at Powers-Thattby Inc. provide that hand via a wide array of talented and individualistic staff taken from all walks of the Afterlife! Our agents have the rare opportunity of walking among the living, experiencing the joys and sensations of life and simultaneously maintaining the delicate balance of destiny! This could be you!
What will your career be at PTI? That depends on what you make of it! Would you like to be a Guardian Angel, or perhaps the proverbial wind from a butterfly's wings that sets about creating a great storm on the Pacific Ocean? All of these assignments and more are available to you if you apply to Powers-Thattby.
It's easy, and what do you have to lose? Just bring this brochure into our offices and we'll waive the application fee!
Powers-Thattby, Inc.
Making it Happen.
This wiki will no longer be the development area for Powers-Thattby, Inc.; please see the following page for further updates.
http://cheri.shyou.org/~csandel/uu.html
Comments:
I've been reading about White Wolf's “Exalted” game and setting lately, and the “Sidereal Exalted” reminded me of Powers-Thattby. Missions to go out and repair Fate, that sort of thing... might be a game that fits your interests here. ~~SabreCat
I'll see if I can't check it out! ~Dog