like. There were desks scattered throughout and people milled about here and there, until they noticed our presence. Then one by one, all heads turned toward us. And stayed there.
Luckily, I was used to a courtroom full of people staring me down. These people didn't have a thing on Judge Arnold when he was missing a golf tournament because I had requested an emergency hearing.
“ Don't mind their curiosity. We haven't had a new recruit for quite some time.”
I nodded, wondering what some time meant to these people, with a frightening suspicion it was a lot longer than my personal frame of reference.
I followed him as he walked to the back of the long open office to a smaller managerial six-by-six and the only separated area.
“ Please,” he said and waved a hand toward the chair, as he sat behind the only desk in the room.
As far as offices went, it wasn't exactly ostentatious with its gray metal desk, filing cabinets, and brown commercial rug. The plain white walls didn't do much to help add any character to the setting.
The room itself held almost no interest for me, except for the door behind his desk. It was plain, like everything else in the office, but there was a one-inch crack between the bottom of it and the floor, and the most brilliant light I'd ever seen was shooting rays out of the gap.
“ What's behind that door?”
“ Retirement. When you finish your trial period, that is where you will reenter,” he said, not bothering to look up from where he'd seated himself behind the desk. “I'd like to talk to you about your position.”
I forced my attention to Harold. He was as odd as my hazy memory had hinted at. He looked like he should be strolling around an economics convention, not dealing in death and retribution. And I couldn't help but feel like there had to be more than what met the eye. If this was the guy calling the shots, there just had to be.
“ Which is what, exactly?”
“ Karma.”
“ Could you elaborate on that?” I repeated, squinting my eyes and staring at him in confusion. He still wasn't explaining exactly what I was supposed to do.
“ Yes. Karma.”
“ I don't understand. I thought karma was when you did something good, it would come back to you and the same thing if you did something bad.”
“ Yes, exactly.”
“ But you said it was my job? I don't understand what I'm supposed to do.” How many other ways could I ask him? This guy was really in charge?
He leaned his head in his hand for a minute and I had the distinct impression that this was out of character for him. He mumbled something I couldn't hear except for the mumbled word “transfer.” Then he shook his head, as if pulling himself back together.
“ The universe has a certain balance it maintains, but it will occasionally fall out of balance. This is usually caused by people slipping through the cracks, who have a sort of natural immunity to the universal forces and need an associate to go in and manually adjust them. If they go too long, they can sometimes throw the system and balance off violently.”
I nodded and smiled, still unsure of exactly how I was going to come into play. How would I fix anyone?
“Let me give you a very simple example. You are familiar with WWII?”
“ Of course I am. I'm dead, not stupid.”
“ Everyone in this office tries to make sure that everything runs pretty much the way it should and nobody cheats the system. When we don't do a good job, you end up with people like Hitler. That's what happens when no one is paying attention. The better we do our job, the calmer the world.”
“ So everyone here is in charge of karma?”
“ No. Just you. Everyone has their own department. You are Karma.” He pointed toward me dramatically, the way someone would try and accent a meaning to a person who didn't know the language.
“ I'm not sure I'm adequately suited for this position. Even for a month. I'm more of a “bygones be bygones” kind of person. Don't you need