“It would appear so.”
“But it didn't.”
“No, sir. Death by duck failed, sir.”
Morrith was quiet for a long moment. His hand drifted toward his desk drawer—the one where Greg suspected he kept something stronger than coffee—but stopped short.
“Let me make sure I understand,” Morrith said. “You had a three minute, fifty second window. Your subject jumped off a cliff, survived. Got hit by a giant inflatable duck, survived. And you're standing in my office, without a soul, telling me thatdeath by duck... failed.”
Greg nodded miserably.
“I refuse to put that in a report.”
“Sir?”
Morrith opened the desk drawer, pulled out a bottle and poured something into his coffee. He took a long sip. Then he asked, “Is there anything else? You look like you have more to say.”
Greg hesitated.
Morrith's eyes narrowed. “Greg.”
“He saw me.”
Morrith looked at his coffee as if suddenly thinking that whatever he’d put in there was no longer enough for this conversation. “Mortals can't see reapers unless we reveal ourselves.”
“I know.”
“Did you reveal yourself?”
“No! I was just standing there. Observing. Like I was trained to do.”
Morrith was quiet for a long time. Evaluating, maybe. Greg waited. Morrith did something on his computer.
“I was hoping your first job would be easier,” he said finally. “But we can still make this right without getting Oversight involved. Dustin is pending.”
“Pending?”
“He is still marked for collection. If we're lucky you can still complete the assignment.”
“But—the window closed. The death didn't occur. Doesn't that mean it wasn't his time?”
Morrith pinched the bridge of his nose. “If it wasn't his time the file would not be pending anymore. Sometimes things go wrong and fate needs a little assistance.”
“A little assistance?”
Morrith leaned forward. “You understand what I need you to do, don't you? What the natural order needs you to do.”
Greg had an idea, but thatcouldn'tbe what his supervisor meant. “Are you saying I should…?”
Morrith held his gaze. “Sometimes death needs a little help, Greg. That's what we're here for.”
“But that's not…. we don'tcausedeaths. We collect souls. We guide transitions. We don’t…”
“We maintain the natural order.”Morrith's voice was flat. “Dustin was supposed to die. He didn't. The order is disrupted. You're going to un-disrupt it.”
Greg opened his mouth. Closed it.
“He's a BASE jumper,” Morrith said, turning back to his paperwork. “From what you've told me, he defies gravity for fun. You only need to make sure that next time he does, gravitywins.”
