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Chapter One
 Death, Tweet Death
Randall Crane did not know he was about to die. This in no way separated himfrom the rest of humanity, but did make the event rather surprising all the same. Henever looked up from his cell phone to see the car, never realized he had been hit, andwitnesses later verified that he did not even appear at all aware that he had moveddirectly into the intersection. He was eighty-six characters into an update on Twitterwhen he was tossed over the roof of a car driven by a very shocked, and laterinefficiently suicidal, lawyer. By no conscious act of his own, but somewhere in theforce of the collision, Randall managed to send his partial message, leaving his three-thousand three hundred and sixty-one followers with a cryptic, and modestcliffhanger of a final statement.
#tccpr lol@chipperchrist, ez 2 get u there, no worries. Your former boss was abit wei
When his body hit the pavement, broken and only mostly intact, he was stillholding the cell phone. He felt no pain, sensed no discomfort, and was remarkablycoherent for a man who had just been crushed and tossed into the air by a fewthousand pounds of unrelenting metal and fiberglass. For a moment, he just lay there,listening to the screams, the cries for help, and the occasional blast of a car horn,thoroughly confused. People crowded above him, though only briefly, as a goodmany of them darted off with their hands cupped over their mouths. A frazzledgentleman in a business suit, thin-framed glasses, and an expression that spoke involumes of unrelenting pain, screamed and threw a handful of business cards at him.Randall could not understand why he had done this, but he could see that the man wasin a great deal of distress, and was insistent on being vocal about it, so he saidnothing.
 But it’s all a bit odd, isn’t it?
Randall thought.
Why am I on the ground?
Heattempted to move, in order to gain a better view of his situation, but found his visiondistracted: not by the oddity of his position, but by the pure blue clarity of thecloudless sky. He was having a terribly hard time remembering the last time he had
 
looked at the sky, or when it had last seemed so pristine. For that matter, he washaving a hard time remembering when the world looked so...colorful.
Randall Crane
?”
 Randall tilted his head from the perfect sky and the screaming, blubbering man inthe business suit to look upon a figure looming a few feet beyond his head. He wasextraordinarily pale, dark hair falling neatly across his forehead, black pupilscomplementing the black robe he wore. He looked like a vampire.
“Are you a vampire?”
 The pale man looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Not remotely, no.”
 
“Oh, well, that’s good,” said Randall
.
“I don’t care much for vampires.”
 
“Have you encountered many?”
 Randall thought about that.
“No
. None, outside of my dreams anyway, that I canrecall, exactly. I just read a book recently that made me really not like them anymore.Horrible book. Bad dialogue. Shallow characters.
 
“I see
. Absorbing though that may be to you,
I don’t particularly care
. It is timefor you to go.
 
“Time
to go where
?”
Randall attempted to shoo the babbling man and hisbusiness cards away, but to no avail. Several people joined in, attempting to do thevery same, but the man was rather hysterical and prepared to be a bit demonstrativeabout it.
“You should get up now,” said the
monotone voice above Randall.Randall frowned.
“I was thinking that a few seconds ago,
you know, but
I haven’tyet figured out why I’m down here to begin with
.
 
“Does that matter?”
 
Seems like it should, I think. Sort of help me to deal with whatever decision Ihave to make to get myself out of whatever predicament it is
that I’ve gotten myself 
into this time. Sometimes I find it helps to just let life happen, and see if it worksitself out, before making any rash decisions.
 
“How very ironic.”
 
Now that I think about it, though, I
’d appreciate any help you could offer.”
 
“I am not here to help you,”
he said.
“Not in that context, anyhow.”
 
“Then why are you talking to me?” asked
Randall.
“Seems you’re doing nothing
more than keeping me from thinking.
I’d rather deal with this guy.”
HystericalBusiness Card Man was now on his knees, crying. Randall was starting to feel a touchunnerved by it all.
“This is all quite fascinating,
however irrelevant it may be. You must go. Now
.”
 
“Go?
 
Go where?” The man just stared at him, and feeling a bit odd in his place,
and distracted by the babbling man at his side, Randall reluctantly stood. He felt lightand unencumbered, and his thoughts were a bit
 — 
well, they were a tad minimal,actually. There seemed to be a limited number of them to deal with, which wasthoroughly abnormal, and more than a little disconcerting.
Well, how about I ask who you are then?
I’ll worry about my problems later.”
The man seemed to consider this for a time.
“Do y
ou understand what has
happened?” he asked finally.
 Randall shrugged.
“Beats me
.
I was just…just—”
He paused, trying to rememberexactly what it was that he had been doing.
“Well, I was just doing something
.
 
Talking to someone, I think. Yes, that was it! I was Tweeting about a meeting. Hah!That rhymes! I should tweet that!
Randall looked at his hands for a moment, andthen absently patted himself down.
“I beg your pardon?”
 
“Tweeting
. On Twitter. A hundred forty characters or less. Updating my dailyongoings, and the like. Big thing now. Quite a lot of people interested in what I dofor a living. As well they should be. Hey, have you seen my phone?
 The man offered only a raised eyebrow.Randall scanned the ground at his feet.
Next thing I know,
I’m on the groundwith people screaming at me.”
Randall motioned to the activity behind him.
“Seriously, where’s my phone? I need to tweet this before I forget.”
 
“You don’t remember anything else?”
 
“Depends on what you’re trying to get me to remember 
. I remember that I peedmyself in fourth grade when my friend Jim shot a spitball in Suzie Perkins
ear, if thathelps.
It does not
,” said the man,
moving a step closer to grip Randall by the shoulder.He approximated something that might have been a compassionate grin, had it notlacked so in sincerity.
My name is Gavin. I am an angel of death, and
 —”
 
“Where’s your scythe, then?” Randall asked, one eye cut to a slit as if trying to
peer a line through multiple dimensions.
“Scythe? I don’t carry a scythe.”
 
“Well, you can’t very well be Death without the scythe
.
I’ve
read it in books. You
don’t look very skeletal either 
. I would buy Skeletor without the scythe, but not you.
 Gavin rolled his eyes, and looked around impatiently.
“Listen, human, I am not
 Death
, I am an
angel
of death.
I don’t carry a scythe
, I have no idea who this
 — 
 Skeletor
 — 
person you speak of is, and you are dead. I do, for the record, have a ratherfine sword I carry from time to time, though.
 
“Cool! Can I see
 
it?”
 
“I don’t have it with me, okay? You were supposed to be an easy collection
. Just
another dead human, from a bleakly dead world.”
Randall laughed.
“Dead? I’m not dead
.
I’m quite fine, in fact
. Look at me. Justbecause I was on the ground there
 — 
whoa
!”
He jumped back from the crumpled andbloodied version of himself.
“My arm does not go there!
 
Where’s my leg?
Hey,
there’s my phone.” Two medics squeezed their way through the crowd, and wasted
little time beyond a cursory check for a pulse. Thirty seconds later, his broken bodywas blanketed in a white sheet.Gavin increased his grip on Randall.
“You must go now.”
 
“Go? I don’t understand this at all! I’m fine! I’m right here!” he shouted at the
medics, who were already prepping the gurney.
“Don’t
 
 put me on that thing! I’m not
dead! And give me my phone back!
 
“You are, and you must go.”
 Randall
slapped Gavin’s hand off his shoulder 
.
“What are you…go where?”
 Gavin shrugged.
“Where everyone goes, eventually.”
 
“Heaven?”
 
“It’s a possibility
.
I’m not
a Judge. Just an angel of death. Your fate will be theirsto decide.
 
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