Soul Index
With the dogs’ howling cut off behind them, Aru and Mini went from utter darkness to blinding light. Aru squinted around, trying to get her bearings.
When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw that they were standing in a line. One glance around immediately told her they’d come to the right place. These people were definitely not alive.
One person was on fire. He yawned and went back to poking at the inside of a toaster with a fork with a very sheepish expression on his face. Then there was a very sunburned-looking couple in hiking gear sporting some nasty bruises and scratches. And beside Aru, moving quickly and calmly, was a bald girl in a hospital gown clutching a silk rabbit. Everyone was packed tightly together, and the crowd kept growing. Before her, she could just make out the letters of a hanging office sign that said:
KARMA & SINS
Est. at the first hiccup of time
Please, no solicitors
(As of the 15th century, indulgences are no longer permitted. Nice try.)
There was a lot of murmuring around them.
“I can’t understand what anyone is saying,” said Mini.
Aru caught fragments of words. It didn’t sound like English. “Mini, do you speak any Hindi?”
“I can ask for money and say I’m hungry?” said Mini.
“Wow. So useful.”
“It was useful!” said Mini. “When I went to India and had to meet all my mom’s relatives, those were the only two phrases I needed.”
“They never taught you more?”
“Nope,” said Mini. “My parents didn’t want me and my brother to get confused in school, so they only spoke English. And my lola got mad when my mom tried to teach me Hindi, because my name was already Indian and she thought my mom was trying to make me forget I was Filipina too, and it became this huge fight at home. I don’t remember it, because I was little. My mom tells it one way, my lola tells it another. Ugh.” She took a deep breath, and then brightened. “I do know some curse words in Tagalog, though! They’re really awful, like this one—”
But before Aru could hear what Mini was going to say, a large speaker materialized in the air, shouting, “NEXT!”
Beside them, a tall pale man wandered forward. A glint of shrapnel stuck out of his leg.
“Gel eht ni yretra gib,” he said pleasantly. “Nodrap!”
“Quick, Mini, ask for money in Hindi and see what happens!”
“Um, Aru, I don’t think he’s speaking Hindi.”
“Maybe he’s speaking Russian? Sounds like Russian…” Aru looked up at the man. “Comrade?”
The man just smiled the kind of uneasy smile one uses when one is utterly confused. Mini got out her compact, and Aru caught on right away. If it could see through enchantments, maybe it could see through languages, too. Mini flipped it open. The mirror was now a tiny screen where the man’s words scrolled in blue and were translated into English underneath.
“He’s speaking backward!” said Mini. She held up the compact to show the words in small, green print:
BIG ARTERY IN THE LEG. PARDON!
“Why would the dead speak backward?” asked Aru.
Mini tilted the compact from one side to the other, as if she were trying to catch and read all the things that the dead spoke around them.
“Maybe because they can’t go forward in life anymore?”
The man frowned. “Daed kool t’nod uoy?”
The compact read YOU DON’T LOOK DEAD.
Aru typed out a response, and then pronounced it haltingly. “Sknaht! Snimativ eht s’ti.” Thanks! It’s the vitamins.
“NEXT!” boomed the speakers.
They shuffled forward once more. The neon sign for KARMA & SINS glowed. Up front, the people in line were doing all kinds of things. Some of them were crossing themselves. Others were crawling forward on their hands and knees, murmuring under their breaths.
Beside Aru, Mini stood rigid. “How can you even look at that?” she asked, her voice hushed. She sounded as if she was about to cry.
“Look at what? It’s just a sign, like something outside a lawyer’s office,” said Aru. “Why? What do you see?”
Mini’s eyes widened. She turned her head away. “Right. I see that, too.”
Mini didn’t know how to lie, but she didn’t sound entirely truthful. Aru suspected she was seeing more than just the sign for KARMA & SINS. Whatever it was, Mini didn’t like it.
The line ahead of them slowly dwindled. Now Aru and Mini stood near the front.
“Do you think the Kingdom of Death looks the same to everyone?” asked Aru.
“I doubt it,” said Mini. “Maybe it’s like that Costco. We’re all seeing something different.”
“Huh. Where’s the hippo that chomps on people?”
“Pretty sure that’s Egyptian mythology, Aru.”
“Oh.”
Aru wished that she had a better idea of what to expect when they went through the next door.
All she knew was that the celestial weapons were housed somewhere inside this place. But where? And where were they going to find the Pool of the Past? What if she mistook it for a different pool that was ten times worse? Like the Pool That Looks Like the Past but Is Actually Eternal Torture.
So far, the Kingdom of Death was just standing in an absurdly long line. Like at an all-you-can-eat buffet, or at the DMV, where her mother sometimes dragged her, and the workers looked equal parts smug and furious.
The door in front of them opened. “Evom!” shouted a grumpy old woman behind them. She was carrying an orange tabby cat in her arms.
Mini held up the compact for Aru to see: MOVE.
Aru spelled out the right response in her head and then shouted it as they walked through the door: “Edur!”
Inside the room, a kind-eyed man with a bulbous nose sat at a desk. He reminded Aru a little bit of her school principal at Augustus Day. Mr. Cobb sometimes subbed for their Social Studies teacher, and he always managed to slip in a story about the Vietnam War, even when their class unit was on ancient civilizations.
The man stared at them. On his desk, seven miniature versions of himself ran back and forth carrying pens and stacks of paper. They argued among themselves.
“Report, please,” said the man. “You should have received one upon expiration.”
Mini inhaled sharply. “Dad?”
The seven miniature men stopped running and stared at Mini.
He was unfazed. “You don’t have my nose, so I don’t think so…” he said. “Plus, I think one of my wives would have told me. But there is an ultimate test.” He coughed loudly. “Yesterday, I bought eggs at a human grocery store. The cashier asked me if I wanted them in a separate bag. I told her, ‘No! Leave them in their shells!’”
Mini blinked. Aru felt a rush of pity for this man’s children.
The man sniffed. “Nothing? Not even a smile? Well, then, that settles it. All my offspring have my nose and sense of humor.” He chuckled. “I must say, though, that’s a rather clever ploy to get out of death, claiming to be my child.” He turned to one of his tiny selves. “Write that one down for my memoir!” Then he turned back to Aru and Mini. “Now, how about those records?”
“We don’t have any,” said Aru.
“Of course you do. You’re dead, aren’t you?”
“Well, about that—” said Mini. She was waving her hand, ready to explain their strange situation, when the compact fell from her palm and landed on the desk with a loud thunk.
The man leaned over to take a look. All seven miniature versions of him dropped what they were holding and raced to the compact.