“I’ll take the Lyvelin.”

  “That is a wonderful choice,” she says, dismissing all of them except the Lyvelin. I get the feeling she’d have said that no matter which of them I picked. “Now. Regarfing the severance package. What powers would you like?”

  I stare. “What do you mean, what do I want? Give me the list of what’s possible.” I motion to the Lyvelin. “Like those.”

  “That isn’t how this works,” she says, sounding apologetic. “The options are so vast that you can ask for anything you want. Then we negotiate how to make that fit the allocated budget.”

  A budget? The afterlife had a budget? Typical corporate .

  “What are the limits?”

  “What do you want? It’s easier to start with that and see how to make it fit within the budget.”

  Easier? How can she say it’s easier if she expect me to know what I want? Isn’t she’s a mind reader? She should know how I’ve never known what I wanted out of my life. Do you have any idea how easier my life would have been if, at any time, I’d known what I wanted.

  And there I go, actually panicking.

  Stop. I said, stop!

  We know how to deal with that a bit. If she won’t limit the possibilities. We can force the situation to do it for us. That means questions.

  “I want my new life to be a simple, quiet one. What do I need to know about that world so I can choose something that will make that happen.”

  This time, her search through her papers is accompanied by a frown.

  Does she have to read that? Aren’t…whatever she is, just able to know things? I thought the papers were just for show. A way to make me feel like this wasn’t just one large illusion.

  “I can’t tell you where you will be summoned within the world as that will be based on those attempting it having the right components to succeed. If you feel that will help, I can give you the world’s geopolitical landscape so you can prepare for all eventualities, but it is a tumultuous world without a single power controlling any one region.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose. And realize I’m not wearing my glasses. Right. Dead. This is an illusion. I don’t need them to see properly.

  “I don’t need everything. Just….” Okay. How to I word this? “Let’s start small. You can’t tell me where I’ll land, but you say there are components. What are they?”

  “Well, the items required—”

  “Not that. Who’ll do the summoning? I’m guessing it can’t be every Joe Blow at every street corner. So who can I expect will do the summoning?” Just watch it be the nobility, the kings and me end up in the same situation some of the other cats would have put me into.

  “Oh, that I can easily answer, and it isn’t as bleak as you fear. The summoning can only happen in region controlled by at least three of the seven Guild of Adventurer’s Union. There—”

  “Adventurer’s guild?” this is a punishment for what I put one of my character through with his adventurer’s guild, isn’t it?

  “Union. Guild is simply a generalized term for—”

  “I know what a guild is. If adventurers are summoning us. Does that mean they’re going to make me one of them? That isn’t what I call an easy life.” Maybe the frozen hell isn’t that bad of a choice after all. Or just waiting it out…. No. That one can’t be good.

  “Oh no,” she replies, surprised. “But I can see how you’d think that. The Union exists to keep wars between the guilds from happening and to provide travel between nations for them. They were originally called the Union of Divine Sins, but when dungeons first appeared and they took on the task of ensuring safe travels to them, as well as between nations, they felt that a rebranding was required.

  “Why would they have been called the Union of Divine Sins?” Please tell me I’m not signing up for some version of Hell?

  She reads some more. “Alright. The too long, didn’t read version is that after divorcing, the mother goddess created this world to raise her seven sons. As they grew, each latched onto a sin as part of their personality, then worked together and based the system the mortals of this world use around those sins they represent.

  Seven? “Wait. Are you talking about stuff like Anger, Pride, Lust, Envy and…” I trail off trying to remember the other three. I’m not religious, so I’ve never paid all that much attention to what’s considered a sin.

  “Yes, as well as Sloth, Greed, and Gluttony.”

  Right, those. “But it’s just a translation thing, right? Those are just equivalent words so I have a framework to understand the world I’m going to land in.” The look she gives me is not encouraging. “Come on. There’s no way you expect me to believe I’ll end up on a world that share the same sins mine had by coincidence.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Not at all.”

  I breathe easier.

  “It isn’t a coincidence.”

  There goes the ease.

  “It’s nothing more than adolescent gods thinking with their dicks and their all knowing mother rolling her eyes and pulling strings behind the scene. And honestly, they’ve gone from Neolithic to medieval, so they’ve worked out the kinks out of the kinks.”

  I stare at her. “Are you telling me that every world out there ends up with those exact seven sins? That it’s a law of the … multiverse that liking to is going to be considered a sin?”

  Now she stares at me, then sigh. “I need to ask for duties that expose me to people in case this happens again.” She reads. “No, liking to —” Hey, it’s me telling it, I’ll sensor you too if I feel like it, okay? “The sin is in wanting to do it, or anything, to the point where it harms you or others. Now, what constitutes harm is a balancing act and is part of the lessons their mother aims to teach them. As for if every world in the multiverse ends up with these same acts deemed as sins?”

  She sighs and I get the feeling I might be stretched her patience slightly. “I’m in charge of the weather, so multiversal demographics isn’t what I know. I have noticed enough to say that people, regardless of what they look like, will turn self-destructive if they are left unchecked. And no matter how strange some worlds are, people are a constant across all of them.”

  “I—” close your mouth. She answered the question. That it is nothing you’d imagine isn’t her problem. Just leave it be. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. My curiosity tends to run away with me.” Ah. There’s an understatement if I’ve even said one. “Thank you for answering.”

  That’s when the counterpoint to that occurs to me. “Are there seven demons of virtue there to oppose those sins?”

  “No. They wouldn’t be demons, and they aren’t in this universe. Her…husband, to use a terminology you’re familiar with, took his seven daughters with him after the divorce to a separate universe. If you want that one…” she consults her papers. Okay. Those have got to be purely visual. There’s no way they thought of putting the answer to this question in there.

  Although we’re dealing with the afterlife and she’s talking about gods and goddesses like she encounters them at the watercooler. So maybe they do know everything I’ll asked. If that’s the case then they should just tell me everything and speed through this.

  “There it is. If you’re interested in that universe, you’ll have to wait and hope snow leopards are still available to you. Or be willing to accept something outside of felines.”

  “I’m good.” I’m not waiting, and I’m not settling for something non-feline. “So, seven sons themed after sins use those themes to create the system running the world. That influence is how they got the Union of Divine Sins, which then rebranded into the Adventurer’s Union because of the dungeons.”

  “That is correct.”

  “What’s the system like, and what’s the Union?”

  “One explains the other,” she answers, smiling. “The system is, thankfully, a soft one. You have seven attributes which determine how powerful you are, but what you can do is still a matter of learning to do it. There are no job or skill restrictions to bind you.”

  “And those attributes are based on the sins?” come on, that’s not even a stretch here.

  “Yes. And connected to a different expression of power.” She steeples her fingers and adopts the classic ‘I’m a teacher,’ pose. “Wrath is associated with physical strength, making it the attribute of the Berserker’s guild. Sloth is associated with recovery in all forms, and is the Healer’s guild’s attribute. Lust is for endurance and is linked to the Gladiators. Greed is for speed and is the Merchant’s attribute. Envy is associated with magic and, as you’d expect, the Mage’s guild attribute. Pride is the Knight’s, but is different in that its effect is on the previous attribute, while Gluttony belongs to the Thieves and amplifies the effectiveness of the actions taken.”

  That’s…a lot. How does she expect me to—and there’s now a board behind her with all that written up.

  Right off the bat, I have a lot of questions. But there’re about why things are that way, which isn’t going to help me. The game mechanics aren’t something I’ll be able to affect. Their effect is more important.

  “How do I raise the attributes?”

  “By indulging the sin relating to them.”

  I can’t believe how calmly she gives the answer.

  “So, I have to… all the time if I want to maintain my—” I find that entry on the board “—endurance up?”

  “Not at all,” she says, beaming. “While a higher attribute naturally leads to a higher drive to engage in that sin, its score can’t drop once it’s achieved. So you can stop without fear of loss.”

  And how many do stop when more engaging in them means more power? This Adventurer’s Union must have its work cut out for it. Which reminds me. “Am I going to be forced to join one of those guilds to do anything in this world?”

  “Again, not at all. The guild does provide resources and training, but aren’t integral to functioning in the world. In fact, they aren’t required to cross from one kingdom to another, although the processes then are so varied, it would take a long time to explain them here.”

  “That isn’t needed.” So I can be a civilian with nothing more than having to deal with paperwork if I decide to travel. I try to think of something else to ask and come up blank, which means there’s only one left.

  “What do I need to know about his system I haven’t thought to ask you?” Hey, you live with my constant forgetting important things, you learn systems to avoid that as much as possible. Of course, it wasn’t as effective before, when I was dealing with people as flawed as I am.

  This time her shuffling feels hurried. Or maybe it’s my imagination for all the work I’m giving her. I would be tired of all the questions at this point, that it be my job or not.

  “People in this world are blessed by a god, sometimes more than one, which accelerates their attribute growth. Automatically by the god who created the species, and occasionally by one of the other as well. Because of how you will be arriving, you can expect them to all inspect you and for more than one to take an added interest.”

  “So much for me going unnoticed,” I grumble. If you’re already listening, I am warning you. I am not a main character. I’m certainly not a Gary Stew, so go have fun with someone else. I can live without the boosts to my stats in exchange for the peace and quiet!

  “Do you have more questions before moving on your power selection?”

  Come on, think of something. Ask about…anything, well, anything relevant. You know you don’t—

  And there it goes, the void of possibilities. No, not an infinity of them, a void. Because the only thing that happens when you give me that many choices are that I start drowning. Yes. I’m mixing analogies. Sue me, why don’t you?

  And having said that, it’ll be just my luck to end up where all the layers decided to go.

  And now my chest tightens.