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ARCHIVIST
(sigh) Another one of Gertrude’s old tapes. At least this one wasn’t stuck in that worm infested room. I still shudder at the thought.
Well. Besides the dust, this one seems perfectly clean. I found it in her old apartment. There was a piece of paper with a phone number underneath it. Nothing else. I haven’t called the number yet. Not sure if I will, I’ll listen to the statement first.
Statement begins.
[A tape recorder clicks, there’s the faint whir of the device working.]
GERTRUDE
Are you sure you’re quite fit to make a statement in that state?
CIARAN
Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine. This blood isn’t mine.
GERTRUDE
(a pause) Would you like to wash it off?
CIARAN
No, I’m quite alright. I’ll have to change clothes. I suppose I should apologize though, for coming in here like this. I just got the urge to give a statement and didn’t bother stopping home after I clocked out. I only just heard about your organization, you see. From that patient that all this came from, actually.
GERTRUDE
I see… Well, if you would just sit down then, we can get started.
Statement of…
CIARAN
Ciaran Elsen
GERTRUDE
regarding…
CIARAN
My death! And thereafter.
GERTRUDE
…right. Statement given 21st of May, 2005. Whenever you’re ready.
CIARAN
Thank you. Now, where to begin…
Two people died on my first medical call.
I wasn’t even properly employed yet, I was doing a clinical ride along for paramedic school. Leave it to first responders to be superstitious, but calls like that simply don’t happen when ride alongs are around. Calls like that don’t happen normally. You couldn’t understand because the public sees the job of medics and firefighters as all daring rescues, crushing loss, or the glory of bringing someone back from the dead.
It doesn’t work like that. Believe me, we run plenty of tachycardic and arrested senior citizens, a couple overdosed druggies and nasty car wrecks, but there’s never as much drama as the media makes it seem. If you drag someone out of a burning building then that’s what you’ll be talking about for the next year.
I still love it though. Anyone in our profession who says they don’t love it are either those permanently sour old guys who are lost with the times, or lying. Maybe it’s because I always seem to get the nasty calls. Only a week before this statement happened, a man crashed his motorcycle and his fingers were scattered all over the road, you know.
None of that ever bothered me. That’s part of why I became a paramedic. I won’t lie to you, the blood and gore fascinate me, actually. And even before the events of this statement, I could easily block out the panicked screams of someone in distress. But I wanted to help people, that's the real reason.
It's just...well, I wanted to be a surgeon before this too, right? I just couldn't stand the stuff you'd have to do to get to that point. I don't know. Not exciting enough, I suppose. It was the nature of it that drew me in. To have someone's life in your hands...
I'm not a murderer. I want to make that very clear, but I think you'll understand at the end of this. I'm not a murderer, I don't cause the death. I save them from it, sometimes. But really, all I do is call it. Everyone has their time, everything comes to an end. There is nothing and no one that can stop that.
Did you know paramedics can't even declare it anymore? We have to call a doctor for everything. It's so stupid, but that stays between us. Honestly though, it doesn't take a medical masters or anything to tell when a person doesn't have a pulse.
[Ciaran huffs]
Anyway, I'm getting a bit off track. I came to tell you about my death. I've been a paramedic for seven years before this happened. That was ages ago, now. I'm not sure...two years ago? I've never been good with time and I don't reckon I'm going to get any better.
There was nothing special about that day. I'm honestly a little bitter about how unremarkable it was, but I can appreciate the violence of it. I mean, sure I was going to die no matter what, but at least let it be flashy.
I suppose there was one thing, actually. Not at all remarkable, just a bit unusual. There was some sort of solar flare--or something--that day that was making all the electronics short out and turn off randomly. It kind of saved my- my existence. When this call came in, I went and wrote the address of the emergency on my palm. It would be humiliating and extremely unprofessional if we weren't able to make it to a scene because we were relying too heavily on the GPS system.
So, we set out. I was the only paramedic on board, so I was responsible for our two EMTs that shift. And that was fine, they were both very adept. It wasn't like I had to babysit them or anything, mostly it just meant that I was the only one who could push most drugs and all that. I had one EMT driving, and I sat in the passenger seat. I don't even remember what the call was now, but we were speeding through at a good place.
Now listen to me. Just because we're running lights and sirens doesn't mean ambulances and firetrucks are running red lights all willy nilly. We have procedures and trainings and we'll never rush it if we're not sure. This wasn't even a risky intersection, our light was green. Even still, a semi-truck T-boned us and sent our whole vehicle rolling off the side of the road.
It wouldn't have mattered if I had seen it in time to react. There wasn't anything we could do. All I remember is a flash of red, a jolt of panic, the shock of the impact, and then everything went black. Our own sirens were blaring in my ears when I woke up. Everything was blurry and my head was absolutely killing me.
[Ciaran breaks off to chuckle] No pun intended. [A quiet sigh]. I- my vision was dark and fuzzy at the edges. I wasn't thinking clearly. At first, I couldn't move, and I think I was in too much shock to feel any pain. There was blood in my eyes and running down my face, and I simply passed out again. I think that's when it happened. I can't be sure, but when I opened my eyes again, my mind was clear. It occurred to me, dimly, to get up, there was something I had to do, so I did.
I kind of just- wandered. Left the wreck behind and headed into the trees. I didn't walk for long. I'm not sure I went very far at all, he could have been waiting just in the treeline. There was this figure. I had no idea what to make of it, he wasn't dressed in any modern garb at all. Something frilly and French maybe. I was delirious, but I must've had some sense. I laughed. I said something about, "I guess we're both dead then, huh?" I wasn't expecting a response.
The spectre smiled. "Not quite yet," he said. I froze. When he beckoned me to come sit, I did, without thinking. The sirens and street were far away, I couldn't hear any of it anymore. The forest around was still and silent as death. It occurred to me then that I should have been looking after Nate and Beckett, but I couldn't go back yet, I knew that somehow. "Let's play a game," he offered.
The unease had been creeping in since the everything went silent, but that was when it really hit. It was as if I knew exactly what was happening, like how you simply Know things in a dream.
I still can't tell you any of his features. I think he had dark hair? Or perhaps that was his silhouette fading off into the darkness. I could see his bones beneath a thin veil of flesh and I shuddered when he waved a skeletal hand. Game pieces of all kinds appeared on the tree stump between us. Dice, chips, cards--you name it.
"H-hold on," I said. "What is this?" There was no doubt in my mind that this was some form of Death. A Grim reaper, right before me. "We play for my life, is that it?"
"You can pick any game you'd like. If you beat me, you won't die."
I could hear every word a clear as a gunshot, despite the creature’s voice being a soft and raspy as old dust. "I...see. Why?"
The reaper shrugged. "You don't have to if you don't want to. You can simply choose to die here and go off into the Eternal Nothing."
When he said that, I felt a chill down through my very bones. A fear unlike anything I had ever experienced beyond my own late night existentialism. I wasn't afraid of violence or gore, not even sickness, for all I despised it, but Death; the idea that my entire existence would stop so completely, no afterlife, no consciousness, no memory--it- I can't put a word to how terrified it made me. It still does, though I like to think I've come more to terms with it. That's part of why I came to make my statement. I don't want to be forgotten. I need there to be some record of me, until the moment that everything comes to the End. When nothing else exists, I'll have no fear to distress over, no need for my life to mean anything anyway.
I jumped at the chance to play. "I won't play with your pieces though," I insisted. "Surely we can agree that's fair. I wouldn't accuse you of being a cheater, just for precaution."
"Certainly. What shall we play then?" The game pieces disappeared.
“I’ll set it on a 50/50 chance,” I decided. "A coin flip." A coin was all I had. Still it…well, I don’t know, but I would be satisfied like this. However it ended up. “But I want a bit more agency in the path of my life. Besides, it’s supposed to be a game, right? So how’s this: We play best of three, first off. The game is that I’ll hold a number on the hand behind my back, and if you can guess it correctly, then you can choose the outcome of the flip after the coin has landed.”
The specter hardly considered this for a moment before it nodded.
I figured that I couldn’t have gotten luckier if I had planned this. The question was really if I wanted to use the ace up my sleeve or not. People cheated Death often enough, right? Surely this being wouldn’t simply fly into a rage and- and what? Send me to hell? I was always prepared for that anyway. To that Eternal Nothing then? What did I have to lose that wasn’t on the line already?
So we played. I bet on heads—just on a whim. I usually favor tails. I put my right hand behind my back and fumbled a bit to flip the coin with my left. It spun heavily up in the air, taking each second like an individual frame in a movie in which it was the only star.
The coin dropped. Heads.
Staring into the reaper’s dark eyes, it felt like they were looking right back at me, despite there being no pupils to tell. “Five.”
The creature’s voice rattled out between its teeth like ancient sand over a wasteland.
I held up my tightly closed fist. “Zero.”
The reaper actually grinned. “Good game. Again.”
This time I went for tails, as usual. The coin came up heads. I could have cheated. It did occur to me, in a distant, desperate thought. I didn’t want to. Changing my number last minute wasn’t the kind of cheating I was content with my life hinging on. I have standards. And some honor. So when the reaper guessed, “three,” in that raspy, steady voice, that’s what I held up.
We were even. The creature didn’t seem malicious; not like he was waiting eagerly for my demise, or like he was already certain of his own victory. It was almost peaceful. At least, I could convince myself it was. In reality, the trees loomed dark and grey overhead and that eerie silence where there should have been birds and bugs and squirrels left me constantly on edge. If my body was left here, would I ever be found? Would I even decay? Or would I completely cease to exist?
For the last time, I set the coin on my thumb and my right hand behind my back. My odds were good, all things considered. I wasn't bothering to calculate the total odds with fractions and shit, but all that really mattered was that there was only a one on six chance of me losing. Kind of like roulette, my mind supplied.
On the other hand, there was easily the chance that the reaper knew of the numbers fading on my palm.
I did it anyway.
“Tails.” I placed my final bet.
"Tails is bad luck you know", the reaper muttered with a grin.
I only shrugged.
The coin flipped, up, up, up, glinting in the dim, greyish light at the crux of its arc.
The corpse before me opened its mouth before the coin even landed. “I think you’re holding zero again,” he declared.
I grinned. Opened my palm to face him properly. The least smudged of the sharpie and the only number not covered by my thumb, “seven.”
With a musical clatter, the coin hit the tree stump table, rolling a small circle on its edge and falling flat. Tails.
For a moment, I waited. I don't know if he was thinking, or surprised, or what, but there was silence before he spoke. Then at last, "good game. You win."
The sheer relief that left my lungs could have made a final breath. As it was, I never breathed again anyway. Right before my eyes, the being crumbled to dust where it sat. It didn't mourn. It smiled. Dread flooded the path relief had just left.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what exactly had happened, but I caught on quickly after that. My late night existentialism has taken quite a turn since. I know now why the reaper was so peaceful at his death; why he didn't argue about our game. That said, I don't understand it. At least not yet. I'll happily take this twisted form of immortality, even if my mind cracks with the time passed.
I suppose you'll want some proof of that, yes? Or do you believe me when I tell you that I will not--I cannot die?
GERTRUDE
There's no need to prove anything. I don't know what exactly avatars of the End are capable of, but I'll believe you.
CIARAN
Hm. Alright then. I'm still not sure about all of that stuff. Avatars and entities, and what all...what the hell rules this world of ours. I was an atheist. I'm not anymore. I find your institute fascinating though. I think we can help each other, perhaps.
GERTRUDE
We can talk about that after your statement. Is that all? Or was there more?
CIARAN
No, that's it. I didn't expect you to believe me though. The man who bled all over me, he told me about your institute when I told him that he was going to die. I can't do it in front of the rest of the crew, but I'll tell folks if they're not going to make it. Not everyone may consider it a courtesy. At this point, it's something of a compulsion. The fear on their faces...it's like it emanates from their very being. It satiates something, akin to a hunger.
I can see it--the time someone has left. I do what I can, as I am legally bound to and because I enjoy my job, but everything and everyone eventually comes to an End. There is no stopping it.
Ah, that's what I forgot to mention. What I've become now. That reaper in the woods, playing the games was his job. Now it's my job. I don't know why, or who gets chosen, but I know when they are, so then we play. The Coming End seems to enjoy it. I think it appreciates the lead up, building anticipation for the tragedy of the End. I don't mind. It's a simple price for eternal life, I think.
[With a click, the recording ends]
Statement ends.
ARCHIVIST
That's... hm.
I remember the first statement of one of these "grim reapers", or whatever they are. So there are multiple then. I shouldn't like to meet one. Gertrude has this phone number, and I'm still not sure if I should call it. I assume that she did end up making some deal with this avatar then, however. They don't seem malicious? Sadistic, maybe, but surprisingly open. And helpful, in a messed up way. I'll keep it with me; might come in handy.
The more I uncover about my predecessor, the more secrets she seems to have. I highly doubt Elias knew of any of this.
It doesn't seem to have helped her in the end.
End recording.