08:47 AM
Tap, tap, tap.
The monotony of the necropolis. A worn keyboard sat in front of her, letters long-since worn away leaving only the blank keys, indented by fingers that had worked away there for far too long.
Tap, tap, tap.
The ancient screens flickered as she tabbed through the database, tired eyes rolling from date to date, searching for entries. One today.
Click. Click.
She squinted at the spreadsheet, eyes sliding off of it; far too early for this nonsense. Taking a sip from a lukewarm coffee, she scribbled down some of the details on an old post-it note pack. Arrangements had to be made, after all. She swivelled in her chair and pinned it up behind her.
Beep, beep.
She sent out the page. Name, plot number, time. She glanced at the clock; a bit less notice than she would have liked, but a day should be enough time for the arrival to be accommodated.
Tap, tap, tap.
Satisfied her work was done for now, she navigated to the little minesweeper icon and began to click away.
10:34 AM
Tap, tap, t-SCREECH.
The whine of old brakes snapped her from her daydream. She checked the clock. That was early.
“Who could that be?” she muttered to herself, an awkward habit of hers. She stood from her slouched position and stretched, grimacing as her entire back popped like a glowstick.
She lent nervously on the desk, bangles clattering together as they rested on the old wood. A clipboard lay next to her, and she fiddled with the clasp as the double doors swung open.
A visitor, it seemed. There weren’t many of them these days.
The arrival gazed around the room curiously, curled hair bouncing in all directions. They caught her eye for a moment and made their way towards the desk, their upright posture making her cringe at her own slump.
“Hiya, love. Who are you here for?”
Her question was met with a mild Hm?
She frowned, opening the clipboard. “S-sorry, who are you here for? Who are you here to visit, like?”
“Oh. No one.” Their voice was gentle.
The receptionist looked up with a vague sense of panic. “Uh… why are you here?” She couldn’t stop her voice from breaking slightly. The numbers she could do. The unscripted customer interaction? Not so much.
“I’ve been assigned here, I believe,” they said pleasantly, but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at their very presence.
“Assigned?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“By who?”
“Not too sure, ma’am.” Their hands rested comfortably in their pockets, apparently nonplussed.
“Christ. Give me a minute. If you want t- If you want to just take a seat over there,” she gestured vaguely to one of the benches in the make-shift waiting area, “I’ll get this sorted out in a minute.”
They gave a quick nod and went and sat down, staring at their feet.
10:46 AM
Click, click, click, clickclickclickclickclick. Click.
“Why do they never tell us anything?” She hissed to herself, hunched over her computer as she flicked between emails in one hand, and notebooks in the other. “Assigned?”
Narrowing her eyes, she peered up over the desk, aiming to be surreptitious.
The newcomer was clearly a researcher, and a junior one at that. No one else wore those coats – especially down here. Their eyes were flitting around the building, scrutinizing the disrepair. She followed their gaze; the large wooden beams that supported the roof were nearly rotten, dampening the walls, the plaster on which was beginning to peel away.
She suddenly felt very self-conscious on behalf of the building.
Two sets of double doors sat parallel; one being the entrance, one leading to the cemetery beyond. One set was cracked with use, one looked barely used.
The receptionist pulled her hands over her head in stress, staring at the screen that revealed no answers. No nothing. Just times and names. No researchers.
She moved to grab her pager off of her desk, grunting as one of her numerous bangles caught in her messy hair; she’d never learn.
Beep, beep, beep.
She sent out a page to the others. They’d know how to deal with this. She was just the receptionist. On her better days she liked to think that she was the brains of the outfit.
“Magnolia, I take it?”
She looked up with a start. The researcher was stood in front of her again. They’d barely made a sound. She looked to where they were pointing.
Behind her hung a woodworm-infested corkboard, various dates, calendars and notes hung about at skewed angles. Off in the corner was a small sign that read “Our Team!” in traditional corporate taste. Two photographs hung underneath.
One was her; lips pursed and pulled into a smirk; makeup done to an extravagant standard. She put less effort in these days. The label that had used to read “Magnolia – Receptionist” was now scribbled over in thick black marker to read “Magpie – Receptionist (Supposedly)”. She hadn’t bothered to change it.
Next to her portrait was one of an older black woman, caught mid-laugh by the camera. “Cecelia – Groundskeeper”. A small smile had been drawn on the end of the label.
And next to that, another label that was almost peeling off of the surface. It simply read “Al – Sexton”. There was no accompanying picture.
“Um, yeah. That’s me-” she answered, sheepish about her and her co-workers label antics.
The researcher nodded and began to scribble something into their notepad. Magnolia was about to ask for their name in turn, but it caught on the tip of her tongue. Their skin was pale, not unusual for a scientifically-inclined soul, but various sizes of moles were scattered wildly upon their skin, as if someone had dipped an old paintbrush in ink and splattered it on them like a canvas.
They caught her eye. “Morello,” they murmured, continuing to write in their book, “Jamie Morello.”
Magnolia blinked, forgetting herself for a moment. “Oh, well, uh, nice to meet you Jamie.” She managed an awkward smile before grabbing the nearest scrap of paper and scribbling down the name before she forgot. “So, um, they didn’t actually tell us you were coming today… or at all! As it turns out.”
Jamie looked nonplussed.
“Someone’s coming down to show you around for a bit, and I-I recon Al will sort something out for you from there.”
They nodded.
She sat down. This was emotionally exhausting. She couldn’t help but notice the hairs on her arms prickle as the researcher continued to stare at the noticeboard behind her.
Beep!
The pager sounded.
10:49 AM
The doors leading to the cemetery were flung open, one slamming against the already damaged wall. Enthusiasm entered the room.
There stood Cecelia, instantly recognisable. And instantly intimidating. She stood at least a foot taller than Jamie, and a foot broader too. Upon her face was spread the exact same smile as her photo.
Magnolia watched in mild awe as Jamie tilted their head up to regard the groundskeeper, brown eyes scalding like coffee. Cecelia didn’t seem to mind, if she noticed at all.
“You must be our newbie!” Her kinked hair bobbed slightly as she nodded her head in greeting. “Mags not give you too much trouble?”
“No, ma’am.” Jamie replied dutifully, placing their notebook back under their arm, tucking a pen into their breast pocket.
As they did so, Magnolia less-than-surreptitiously passed Cecelia the note of Jamie’s name, hopeful to keep at least some sense that they were a functioning organisation. Cecelia winked.
“Still in the coat an’ all,” she grinned, gaze lolling back over to Jamie, “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”
10:50 AM
Finally. Peace at last.
Tap. Tap. Tap.