It started with the worst seven words in all of history. I bet you couldn’t do my job. One sentence and a challenge, between two beings that had never been able to work out if they were friend or enemy.
Life was all sharp corners and straight lines. Their face always in a permanent frown, their hair always tied up in a strict bun, they were the teacher everyone avoided, the neighbour that told you to be quiet as you opened your door.
Death was the opposite, all curves and soft. Their face always held a smile, their arms always wide for hugs. They were the one you went to for advice, the stranger who helped you up when you fell.
Life saw the smiles and assumed it meant easy. They said Death took their job lightly, laughed in the face of everything. They said the light in Death’s eyes meant they did not care. Or that they never needed to do anything.
Death saw the scowls and assumed it meant easy. They said Life didn’t care at all, they just stepped back and watched over without ever stepping in. The frowns meant boredom, the look trying to hide how little they did.
Both thought they knew the other, but both missed the shadows under their eyes.
On the day they swapped jobs, they both got up early, more excited for the day ahead than they had been for years. It was going to be a holiday. A day to prove how much they did when the other did not.
When Life stepped into Death’s office, it was to see pictures on the wall of the beauty of Earth. Flowers growing and golden trees. Kittens and puppies and every type of baby animal anyone could imagine. But Life couldn’t sit around and stare; the day had only just begun, but the waiting room outside was already full.
When Death stepped into Life’s office, it was the see nothing. Grey bare walls and a grey desk. Grey computer screens that flashed awake as they sat down, only to show the grey clouds that hovered above Earth. Death wanted to stand and change it, find something to brighten the room, but they didn’t have time. An alarm sprang up, and the screens zoomed in to the start of a day.
There were three doors out of Death’s office. One was painted in the colours of the sunset, all pinks and oranges and golds. One was painted in the colours of spring, all greens and blues and purples. And the last was the only plain door, solid white and empty. A file appeared in front of Life, and they looked at it as the first dead walked in. A young girl with eyes older than her age as she took Life in. Took the room in, and the doors in, then looked back at Life with her eyes full of tears.
Three buttons appeared in front of Death as the images on the screen became clear. One was marked stop. One was marked change. And the last was marked free will. On the screen was the image of a city filled with people smiling and laughing. But the sound of a plane turned their smiles to fear, and Death understood what was in their hands.
Life did the instinctual thing. They got up and walked around the desk, crouching down before the child and enfolding her in their arms. Comforting was not what Life was made for, but they tried, muttering pointless words into the girls ears until the tears dried. But then Life looked at the doors. They knew what each one meant. Sunset, for moving on. Spring, for regrowth. Going back and living as someone else. Trying again. And white- white, for nothing. It was Life’s job to find out where the girl would go next.
Death slammed their hand over stop. They thought it would mean it literally, make the plane disappear and stop the threat. But the screen only hovered over the plane as the engine stuttered, sputtered, and the plane started to fall. Death recoiled as they watched it fall in the middle of a village. They had saved one set of people, only to kill another.
Life dealt with a range of humans. Some who had died of old age, who just wanted to rest and be free. Others who had fought illnesses and lost, but were still as much a warrior than those who had died in war. Some that had been murdered, and some that had been killed for what they had done in their lives. Life met each and comforted them- from the gentlest one to the worst, for dying hurt no matter who they had been. And Life, one by one, sent them through the doors.
Death watched wars and accidents, friendships bloomed and fade, love grow and break. Each time, the three buttons appeared. Stop, they didn’t touch again, in fear of doing something worse. Change, they pressed only twice- but it didn’t change anything, other than the victim or the time. Over the long hours alone in the room, Death pressed only free will after that, watching and hating that they could not save everyone.
When they met at the end of their long days, it was to see the other with new eyes. I bet you couldn’t do my job. That had been half right, for each had survived the day, but each had also realised the other’s did not have it easy.
Life saw Death for what they were; soft and smiling because they had to greet humans that were scared and lost and missing their families. Their eyes never held judgment, even when they had to judge who would go through what doors. They faced pain every day, their heart breaking with every person, but they had learnt to care despite how much it hurt.
Death saw life for what they were. Long silences were not boredom, it was pain that they could not do anything, despite their power. The frown was not anger, but a concentration and a wondering of what if I had pressed different? They had lost their smile and laugh long ago, because they faced pain every day and could do nothing but feel helpless.
They still didn’t know if they were friend or enemy. Maybe they were both, or maybe they were neither. But they did know now that the other worked just as hard as they did, and that maybe both of them needed someone else to lean on sometimes, and maybe that someone would be their opposite.
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