[ WP ] Humanity creates a wonder-drug granting everyone Immortality . Death arrives at the unemployment office .

`` Sir, do you know you're wearing a cowl?'' 
 
 His head turned to me. `` I just do n't think that'd look good in the photos, sir.'' No reply. `` It's just, people like to see faces, you know? It builds trust.'' Silence. I dropped it. I'm not sure why he felt the need to be so rudely taciturn. Is n't it my job to help these poor souls? 
 
 `` Ohhhkay, well. Let's look at your form, shall we?'' The skill survey fluttered onto my desk. Weird, I did n't see Mr. Loomy put it there. `` Thanatos, eh? That's a mouthful of a name. Do you mind if I call you T?'' 
 
 The robed shoulders shrugged. 
 
 `` Great, T. I'm glad we're getting along. Let's see, skillsets? Population control? I'm not sure that's a skill set, T, especially since now everyone's doing well at not dying! Population control's never been easier!'' 
 
 I chuckled; he did n't. Too bad. Bad jokes are how I get through my day; have you ever tried sitting behind a desk watching hundreds of hopeless people trudge past you? It's heart-wrenching; I have to steal any second of happiness, forced or not, that I can. The worst part is that since we're all immortal, job security is great - which means whatever I assign this people, they'll probably be doing for most of ever. 
 
 `` You have scythes under skills? Like, the pointy hooked things? I've never even seen a scythe - `` I cut off as T suddenly brandishes a gleaming, 6', sharpened silver scythe. Holy shit. How did he even get that in here? Where the hell was he hiding that thing? I swallow the joke I was about to make. It probably was n't funny, anyway. 
 
 `` Okay. Well. Scythes. I think they might still use those in the rice fields in China, so I'll mark farmer down as a possibility. We could always use more food. Have n't really sorted that lot in Rwanda out, yet.'' I write a small note: `` rice fields.'' Next to it, I quickly put a smaller note: `` possibly unstable. No politics or weapon access.'' After second thought, I cross out politics. 
 
 `` Well, let's keep going. Interests - cats.'' Cats? Really? This guy is into scythes, cats, and population control. I suddenly worry about all cats in the immediate area. `` Does it have to be human population control? Have you ever thought about being a mouse exterminator?'' I chuckle at the thought of this tall, black robed, serious man being surrounded by mewling kittens jumping around each other trying to catch a rat; then I remember the scythe. I write down `` exterminator'' and once again cross off `` politics.'' 
 
 T does n't seem amused. I ca n't really tell, actually, because I have n't seen his face yet, but he's not laughing ( or making any sound at all ) so it seems like a valid conclusion. God, this job is awful. No one wants to be here, and no one is happy to see me. They just sit miserably, waiting for me to tell them where to go. It's like dealing with the freaking dead. 
 
 I look back at the sheet. `` Judgement of fate. T, I'm not sure how judgement is an interest. I do n't think I can come up with a job for you to just decide people's fates all day.'' It's the last thing on the page. I lean back to think. What could this man possibly do? I watch people come in and go out. Lynda's cat paws at the same tear in my pants that I've given up sewing back together. That damn cat makes me miserable. This whole job does. I wish I could quit, but I'd need a replacement. Someone else to decide people's... well.. fates. Wait.... 
 
 `` Hey, T. I got the perfect job for you.'' 
 
 `` You still ca n't wear the cowl, though.'' 
 
 * -- - I'm bad with tenses, so please let me know if it's inconsistent, thanks. -- -*
