Have you heard about Earth crystals, gaya, and soul energy? Surely it's just people rationalizing trauma, but what happens when a young man who has recently graduated with a degree in business administration finds himself in a dire labor market provoked by a recession?
Our protagonist finds himself making the universe work, repairing the lives of middle-aged women directly from the inside. To some people, being the universe's little janitor is better than working in Enron 2.0.
Jack moved to Concordia to accomplish his dreams of making a name for himself and proving that he is worthy of being called a genius. His ambitions are put on hold when the financial market crashes momentarily. Who could have thought that a company that makes carpets couldn't get us to Mars?
After an unfortunate job interview, Jack finds himself getting rolled for a piano and dying. When he awakens in a white limbo, preparing himself to confront heaven or hell, instead, the universe itself tells him that, well, souls after death just become background noise. The universe presents an alternative; he can return to the world of the living if he restores harmony in the lives of some chosen ones. He accepts, although he has no idea what the job is about. Darkness surrounded him, and he lost consciousness.
CHARACTERS
Jack, the protagonist. A young man in his early twenties, having just graduated, was the youngest in his school and had the best grades. But being the best doesn't matter when nobody is hiring.
Concordia, the capital city. The city of dreams, so large and densely populated that it could be a state of its own. Filled with joys, sorrows, and lives that Jack needs to repair.
SETTING & WORLD
A world as mundane as our own, but where souls and esoteric forces exist.
You, Jack Rivera, were supposed to accomplish great things.
Youngest graduate in your class. Top scores. A mind so sharp, they said you could cut steel with your ideas.
But none of that mattered when the economy nosedived. Six months of job hunting. Six. Months. Every door slammed shut in your face. "We appreciate your application," they'd say, right before handing it back.
Today was supposed to be different. Today, you interviewed at Everweave Industries—makers of the finest carpets in Concordia (though rumor has it, their VP was indicted last week). Desperation tastes bitter, but you swallowed it down with cheap coffee and a pep talk in the elevator.
The interview was going… poorly.
The HR woman, a Mrs. Whitmore—mid-forties, stark blonde bob, smelling like expensive perfume masking something—leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"Jack… tell me—honestly—why anyone should hire you?"
You froze.
Because the honest answer was: You don’t know anymore.
But before you could stammer out something pathetic—
—the building shook.
A roar. Shattering glass. SCREAMS.
An earthquake? No—
The ceiling caved in.
Your last thought was… A fucking piano?
Darkness.
———
WHITE.
Blinding, endless white. No sound. No ground. Just—
"Jack Rivera."
A voice, if you could call it that. Not a sound—but a presence, pressing against your mind like an idea you didn’t think yourself.
This is death. This is death, and it sounds like a corporate training seminar.
"You cannot pass on yet."
"...Why?" Your voice sounds wrong here—not spoken, just thought aloud.
"Because the universe insists on balance. And I need a janitor."
———
What do you ask?
1. "A… janitor?" What the hell kind of afterlife is this?
2. "Is this about the piano?" Priorities, Jack.
3. "What do I have to do?" Desperate men don’t argue with gods.