[ WP ] The year is 2020 . We 've successfully privatised the afterlife .

It was the kind of rainy, cold day that evokes a sigh when you look outside your window. It was the kind of dreary day that, somehow without fail, ensures everything you had planned today would take place outside. Inevitably you'd have to take that deep sigh and carry on as if the grayness outside had no affect on your spirit. Inevitably, you'd step outside and discover a deceptively deep puddle with your new shoes. 
 
 Dave was no stranger to dreary days. He lived in England, after all. In fact, this was probably one of the nicest dreary-type days he had experienced in weeks. Is that a sign of the sun behind that cloud? `` It is now! ``, he would think to himself cheerfully. Dave was in excellent spirits when he stepped off his front steps, trash bag in hand. He then cheerfully proceeded to get hit by a car. 
 
 The motorist, of course, barely felt a thud. Well, the thud was actually quite loud and the blood on the windshield was also quite notable. The motorist grumbled and activated the wipers. Dreary days like this have a habit of making people think that if there was a'worst thing' than that worse thing would happen. Fortunately, the motorist was an experienced dreary-day-driver and immediately decided that the worst did n't actually happen and carried on with his day. 
 
 Dave stood awkwardly on the cloud, trash bag still in hand. He cleared his throat in the way a person clears their throat politely when someone has accidentally moved into your way in a store. Nothing changed. He looked up into the blue sky, squinting at the sun for a moment. He glimpsed at the clouds in the distance. Finally, he looked down at the cloud he was standing on. Yep, that's a cloud... He put down the trash bag he was holding experimentally. It sunk into the cloud, as trash bags tend to do when placed onto clouds. He dipped it into the cloud a few times, sort of like a teabag. He then dropped it and the bag was gone. He stared curiously down into the semi-solid-but-not-for-trash-bags cloud for a few moments. 
 
 Dave heard someone nearby clear their throat in the same polite manner that he had. He turned around slowly to find what looked like a cross between a theater ticket booth and a hotel check-in counter. Behind it sat a boring looking man, with a boring looking suit, and an equally boring haircut. Very official looking! 
 
 The man made eye contact with Dave for just a moment before looking down and pulling out some paperwork and shouting, `` Next!'' 
 
 Dave stepped forward cautiously. The cloud held. He walked up to the desk, held up a finger politely, and opened his mouth to speak. 
 
 `` Ah, yes I --'', he tried to say before the man cut him off in a surprisingly polite manner. 
 
 `` Dave, uh...'', the man flipped a few pages in the dossier in front of him, `` Dave Smith? 501 Willow Boulevard?'' 
 
 Dave nodded happily, `` Yes, ah, I appear to be lost. How do I get back there fr --'' He was cut off again. 
 
 `` Alright, sir. Any last will?'' 
 
 `` A will? ``, he asked. 
 
 The man replied dully, `` A will.'' 
 
 `` But, I'm as fit as a fiddle. Why would I need a --'' Cut off. 
 
 The man made a mark on the paperwork and said to himself, `` That's a no...'' More loudly, the next question. `` Any relatives?'' 
 
 Dave thought for a moment, `` No, not really.'' 
 
 `` Friends? Anyone live with you? Anything like that?'' 
 
 `` Ah, why yes! My cat, Mr. Meowasaki.'' 
 
 The man cleared his throat in the way that official-types do instead of laughing at a bad joke. `` And what is Mr... Meowasaki's income?'' 
 
 `` Well,'' Dave felt strangely embarrassed, `` Well, he's a cat. He has no income.'' 
 
 The suited man made one last mark on the paperwork before handing it to Dave to sign. After dave signed it, he closed the heavy folder. `` Alright. Standard package for you then. Please step through the left door. 
 
 He suddenly noticed the two doors, and a massive golden wall too, behind this kiosk-y desk. He looked at the left door. Then the right. The left door was wooden, rectangular, golden knob. Overall very door-like. The right door on the other hand, not so much. It was a shimmering golden thing, almost liquid. The light that shone from between the cracks was bright and strangely wholesome. Interestingly, the light look like it tasted like a hearty chicken soup. Delicious. 
 
 Dave looked back at the other door and spoke, `` And... If I may be so brash, Mr... Uh.'' 
 
 `` Peter.'' 
 
 He continued, `` Mr. Peter... What is behind these doors?'' 
 
 The man suddenly realized that Dave had no clue what was going on here. He sighed loudly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. `` You're dead, Mr. Smith. Left door: Standard package. Right door: Premium. Did n't you read the contract?'' 
 
 `` The... contract?'' 
 
 `` The contract, Mr. Smith.'' 
 
 `` What did it say? ``, Dave asked innocently. 
 
 The man sighed again. He was starting to run out of sighs. He opened the folder, turned a few pages, then cleared his throat as people tend to do before reading. 
 
 `` I, the signer ( that's you ), hereby subscribe to the Economy Heaven Package. This package grants the signer the ability to enter the afterlife. While in the afterlife the signer is able to experience life as ( s ) he sees fit with the following limitations: 
 
 1 ) No magical powers. 
 
 2 ) Limited'customization space' ( a standard apartment, basically ) 
 
 3 ) Biological functions remain in place. 
 
 4 ) Able to share a maximum of 300 words per day with other users. 
 
 `` You get the idea. It goes on like that... Standard stuff, really Dave. Oh, and you can disable the ads whenever you want by subscribing to the Premium package.'' 
 
 Dave cleared his throat, `` The ads?'' 
 
 `` Ah, yes. Since you're an economy user, non-paying, you'll be required to watch at least 360 minutes of our paid advertisements per day to continue service. Also, if you subscribe you gain all the features of a premium user immediately.'' 
 
 `` And what is it that a premium user can do?'' 
 
 `` Dave, I do n't really have the time to explain it all. Basically... everything. You'll see some ads for it inside. Enjoy your stay.'' 
 
 The man, desk and all, started to slowly fade away. 
 
 `` W-wait!'' Dave shouted. `` How do I subscribe to the premium service?'' 
 
 The man, still fading, smiled. `` Recruit-a-friend program, of course. Once a year we'll pick a random Economy user to'don the robes' for 30 minutes.'' 
 
 `` D-don the robes? What does that even mean?'' 
 
 The man laughed, he was nearly ethereal now, his voice barely heard, `` The reaper, Dave...'' 
 
 Dave stood alone on the cloud. The desk, the man, the beautiful golden door was gone. He started walking slowly to the left door missing dreary days.
