“The sign said you were the head sexton? What is that?” 

“Gravedigger.” His voice was like gravel. Jaime got the impression that they shouldn’t ask too many questions. 

Cecelia had wandered off back to work a couple of minutes before, and Al had jumped back into the pit, neatening up the right-angles of the grave.

If Jamie gave off a sense of unease, Al radiated pure ominousness. Perhaps he developed that in the graveyard, or perhaps that’s the reason he was sent down here. 

They watched him work for a few minutes, letting the radio fizz away old pop songs. Al would methodically graze the shovel down the edges and across the floor of the grave, every so often stopping to check his work with a concrete-covered spirit level. 

“Not one for manual labour then, I suppose?” the gravedigger rumbled. 

“Sorry, sir, I’m just…” For the first time, the researcher hesitated. “Sorry, I just really don’t understand what I’m doing here.” 

They tried to be open to the situation – they did want extra research experiences after all. But what could be researched here? The place where the Foundation ditched its corpses. Jamie couldn’t help but feel like they’d been shoved into the Badlands.

“Did people like you up top, Morello?”

They frowned. “I believe so.” They had friends. Co-workers at least. They chatted while they worked in the labs sometimes, and they went on errands together. 

Al stopped, leaning on the shovel. His eyes swivelled to Jamie, steely irises boring into Jamie’s soul. “Nothing strange about you? Nothing weird?” 

Jamie remained silent. They couldn’t help but feel like they were being scrutinised, made fun of, examined like a new specimen. 

The gravedigger smirked and returned to levelling. “The reason I ask, see, is ‘cause they never send regular folk down here.”

Jamie looked up from the notebook where they had been aimlessly drawing circles in an attempt to rid themselves of the awkwardness. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t mean nothing by it, mind.” 

Jamie wanted him to elaborate. He did not. 

“I’m pretty sure I do have friends at the Foundation, sir, and I was told this would only be a temporary research assignment.” 

“I see. Maybe it’s just that then. Probably just research. My mistake.” He chucked the excess earth onto the pile. Jamie nudged it with their foot. “Course, you don’t want to be like the others anyways.” 

Jamie remained silent, waiting expectantly. 

After a moment, Al continued; “’Cause all those researchers, all them doctors, they all end up like dear Ms Johnson here-” he tapped the earthen walls with his foot, “Four feet under.” 

Jamie mused for a moment. “I thought it was six feet.”

“Nah. Common misconception. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“’Course. If you want the assignment, that is.” He smiled to himself. The notebook closed. “Go on, get yourself out of here. Get Magpie to call you a ride at the office. We’ll start proper tomorrow.”