Planetary Administrator Perse Kottlieb paced up and down the cemetery wall, the odor from the decaying corpses fueling his already seething rage. He turned on his heels and gazed through the fence at the mountain of mulched, multicolored tissue turning various shades of nothing particularly pleasant. The latest transport from the Desmemberment Division had just finished dumping another dozen bodies in various stages of completion onto the ever-widening pile. Kottlieb spat and started back towards the gate.
Freak accident, the newscasts had labeled it. Once in a thousand TIRDs, one headline had said. A-Bout Time was the one that firmly stuck with Kottlieb.
A while back, the Pride of Harbukhim barge had anchored in high orbit above Kottlieb’s small globe, furiously advertising for the coming bout of a lifetime. And it really was – for every last unlucky living thing onboard. The fighting in the arena had been so vicious and borderline reality-shattering, the barge was torn apart mid-way through proceedings. Its superstructure creased, bent, then finally cracked, the lumbering mass funneling into the gravitational field below. Rumours of unsanctioned items being employed had spread as quickly as the smoke from the still-burning sections of barge superstructures that had made planetfall. How those items had made it onto a bona-fide, sanctioned barge was anyone’s guess.
‘And it just had to happen here. In my sky, of all places,’ Kottlieb thought.
The blazing fires of many sundered sections still smoked so fiercely, most of the starward hemisphere was practically canopied with the stuff. The Administrator grimaced at the grey-black swirls above, silently thanking the occurence for lowering the temperature so the bodies didn’t reek that bad, all things considered. More and more of them had been recovered from the wreckage. The INC policies, which naturally covered for this sort of situation – or near enough – dictated any victims onboard Nexus barges dying as result of an ongoing bout be evacuated, catalogued, and interred in the closest dedicated burial area, following local customs. Unfortunately, when they wrote that particular article, the powers that be failed to take an entire barge literally blowing up mid-bout into consideration.
It had been long, grueling shifts since Kottlieb had taken personal charge of the emergency situation and hired the new Head of Undertaking. Shifts of broken promises, ignored deadlines, extensions, and what can only be described as willful ignorance on the part of the new employee, his glowing recommendations be damned…
‘Dodge Carliesle, at your service’, Kottlieb muttered under his breath and spat again, sensing fresh bile rising at the back of his throat. At first, he had been taken aback by the exuberance Carlielsle professed for the job. He’d started speaking of all the little-known ups and downs of grave digging, very keen on seeing Kottlieb’s vision of the enterrment process fulfilled in a timely manner, describing extensive digger apparatus and maintaining that honouring the various belief systems of the victims – so much as their species could still be identified – were of paramount importance to him, personally… He should’ve known it was too good to be true.
Oddly enough, it was a grave-related issue that had kept Carliesle from performing his duties – allegedly. But that only partly covered for the repeated delays. Kottlieb’s mind was made up, and it was getting harder and harder to contain himself, especially since this wasn’t the first meeting Carliesle had been late beyond all reason to.
He reached the gate, sighed, then turned back the other way. He’d barely taken a few steps when he saw the Head of Undertaking appear from behind an ages-old, rusted gravebox, and turning on to the main alley, seemingly busy and fully intent on getting somewhere.
‘Carliesle!’ Kottlieb cried. He was paid no mind. Carliesle kept poring over a tattered old cordscreen, gazing over at the bodies ahead, and talking to himself in hushed tones.
‘I say, Carliesle! Over here!’ Kottlieb rasped louder and quickened his step. He reached his quarry and tapped him on what seemed like a general shoulder area. This had the contradictory effect of getting Carliesle to both jump and lose control over his multiple knees at the same time, sending the Head of Undertaking tumbling awkwardly to the ground, a mess of jumbled limbs and jabbering folds of flesh.
‘M-Mr. Kottlieb! What in the seven damnations possessed you to creep up on me like that? This is a cemetery, sir. It isn’t normal for that to happen in here! Nor is it particularly amusing!’ he whimpered in a shrill voice, his vertical nostrils oozing fresh goop all the way down his multiple chins.
‘I’m sorry, I-‘ Kottlieb caught himself before being completely disarmed by Carliesle’s pathetic demeanour ‘What do you mean, creep, I literally just called at you, loudly, just now! You know what, forget it, pick yourself up, I have something to tell you and I’ll try and keep it short,’ he said, seeing his original tone was doing nothing to calm Carliesle’s nerves. His counterpart regained composure and quickly returned to his notes and thoughts, walking away towards the corpse pile, as if nothing had happened.
‘Driverless, clump-cell chariots. I’m surrounded by them,’ Kottlieb muttered, massaging his temples ‘I say, Carlisle?’ he tried in a sweeter tone, and followed.
‘It’s been almost half a TIRD since we discussed your employment and your duties, and while I don’t mean to put any un-due-pressure-on-you’ he started, accompanying each word on the tail end of the sentence with a rather violent series of gestures that belied his calm vocalisation ‘it’s clear to everyone involved that this whole arrangement isn’t working out… for anyone. Especially in light of the most recent project update – or lack thereof – wouldn’t you agree?’
They carried on for another dozen or so steps, and then Carliesle stopped and turned around. He almost fell down again when he saw Kottlieb simply waiting there for him, wringing his hands.
‘Mr. Kottlieb! Oh, such a fright, truly! So glad you could make it, it’s been a while since we’ve spoken, would you like to see how the project is coming along?’
Perse Kottlieb blinked, slowly, several times, wishing the blank-staring Carlisle, nervously shifting from one pair of legs to the other, was just a delusion brought about by him continuously breathing in what amounted to smoked corpse.
‘The, uh… The project, Carliesle?’
‘Yes, sir!’
‘The one that was supposed to be done five times over by now?’
‘The very same!’ Carliesle’s enthusiasm was nothing short of alarming.
‘Are you all there at the moment, Carliesle? Or just… in the general vicinity of there?’
‘No, sir, not quite, but things are coming along nicely, I think!’
Kottlieb sighed, ‘I have some objections to that last observation.’
‘Please hold any objections until such time as you’ve witnessed the current state of things. Yes, I think we’re on the right path here, if you’ll just follow me…’ Carliesle skittered away, prompting the Administrator to follow.
‘The right path?’ the smell caused Kottlieb’s entrails to churn, and he considered accidentaly lathering Carliesle in his late dinner. He perished the thought. It had been quite an enjoyable dinner, after all.
‘Yes, sir, right up ahead, then a left at the old Chugglan patch, and we’re there!’
‘There? We should’ve been there in about half the time you’d initially allotted for this, Carliesle… But I liked your spunk and your vision and really thought we could do something together,’ Kott’s words started tumbling over one another in rhythm with the repeated clenching of his fists, ‘I gave you plenty of leeway in the matter. And I think I was very understanding when that unfortunate event befell you. All I kept asking for was a time table, and you kept skirting around it and telling me, It’s on track, we’ll do it.
‘And who is we, anyway? I only ever see you sauntering around here aimlessly, feigning hard work!’ Kottlieb threw his arms up.
‘Yes, we’ve been hard at work recently,’ Carliesle winked. Kottlieb turned to see who the target of that gesture was. They were still thoroughly alone, if you didn’t count the miasma of the dead which was so palpable here, it was probably on its way to gaining full sentience.
Carliesle carried on, seemingly speaking to no one in particular while scratching at his wrinkled head, ‘I think you’ll be very satisfied with the delivery, right this way!’
‘There you go thinking again. My good Carliesle, I’m sure you’re in no position to think in any way, bodily shape, or form. In fact, if you were any more dim you’d probably need to be watered every dozen shifts!’ Kottlieb gritted his teeth.
‘Oh, I haven’t watered anything down, not to worry!’
‘What I’m saying is,’ Kottlieb felt himself burning up, ‘you’re f-‘
‘Here we are!’ Carliesle bellowed triumphantly, pointing at a single, freshly-dug hole, not far off from the mound of formerly living flesh.
The Administrator paused to look at the hole, then at his Head of Undertaking, and back at the hole, telling himself there was no way in the verse this was actually happening. The pit was relatively large, if you were trying to bury anything smaller than a helot, or even what remained of one after a particularly gruesome bout, much like the one that had caused this predicament in the first place. Perse Kottlieb craned his neck, trying to glimpse the tip of the flesh-bedecked rise they were standing too close to, wondering how many thousands of corpses had been extracted from the barge’s wreck – and how many more were left inside. He found himself hoping more of them had just become so much ash and soot in the fires following the crash and not been dumped on his administrative doorstep by the Desmemberment crews. To the Void with protocol, and double that for legislation – he should’ve just launched the lot into low orbit and taken the fine.
‘Here we are… Doing what, exactly?’ the Administrator asked, steeling himself for the response to come.
‘Is this not what you asked for?’ Carliesle raised his single eyebrow, getting closer to the hole ‘We followed the specs to the letter, and while this is but the first prototype, I’m sure we can get better results with the next iteration which is just now being compiled by my team,’ he said, rapping his fingers on his head.
‘You absolute reTIRD…’ Kott’s shoulders dropped.
‘…sir?’
‘That is one hole.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Carliesle shrugged.
‘How could you, truly?’ Kottlieb chuckled in spite of himself, then continued, ‘You see, Carlisle, I asked for a quick interment solution for when the victims of the barge were processed and headed for burial,’ he flailed furiously at the corpses, ‘Do you see the issue we’re dealing with here?’
‘Sir,’ Carliesle took a proud posture, ‘the business of undertaking is no small feat, and this is state of the art craftsmanship, built to specs and able to fit a wide variety of corpses, based on size, chemical composition, and even colour – note the varying layers of dirt-padding we added for contrast purposes. Furthermore, it is in adherence with both local and galactic measures for standard enterrment protocols, I have to say th-‘
‘You took almost half a TIRD to dig a single hole, you absolute waste of tissue!’ Kottlieb bellowed, ‘I could’ve dug a hundred of these by myself in that time, and we wouldn’t be dealing with this soul-rending smell right now! Do you feel that, Carliesle? Do you know what that foul stench clawing at the back of your throat is?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, I lost my sense of smell at birth, terrible circumstances, you see…’
‘Of course you did,’ the Administrator contorted his face into the semblance of a smile, eyeing Carliesle’s snot dripping onto his chest and settling on top of his irregularly shaped collarbone in a small, gunky puddle that cascaded down his concave chest.
‘Carliesle’ he started again, clasping his hands together, ‘I’m going to have to let you go.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes.’
‘I see,’ Carliesle nodded, staring at the fresh dirt mound next to the hole.
‘I’m glad we understand each other. I’ll be needing your full work allotment for the time you’ve spent on this project so that we can settle everything and then you can be on your way, is that alright?’
‘Yes, yes, I think- I think I can do that, sir,’ Carliesle’s voice dropped half an octave.
‘Cheer up, I’m sure there’s something out there for you to work your magic on,’ Kottlieb rolled his eyes ‘this just wasn’t it, see?’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’
‘Good, it’s settled, then. I always forget if your kind likes to shake on things, so I’ll just leave it at that, shall I? You know your own way out, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, sure,’ Carliesle seemed to jot something down on his cordscreen again, nodding absently.
‘Good,’ the Administrator turned and started walking briskly towards the gate, a newfound sense of purpose and hope kindling in the tired cockles of his heart. He was almost contemplating a late snack as he heard Carliesle’s shriek wafting after him on the rotten breeze:
‘I’ll have the plans for version 0.2 on your desk immediately, sir, I think you’ll love the updated design we’ve been toying with!’
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