The Administrator

By Chris Webb

You might be surprised by the amount of paper work needed to run the universe, especially when everything must be filled out in triplicate, which is why Dale exists. As for where Dale exists, for want of a better set of words, we'll call it The Public Works Buildings of Everything. The Public Works Buildings are the control center for all worlds, the afterlife, and anything else thought up or not. At the center of it all, surrounded by heaps of paper, uneaten quiche, and coffee with sour milk congealed on top is Dale. He's not a god, but he administers for them. An irate god intent on teaching his worshipers a little respect can't even unleash a flood without Dale's stamp. Usually on at least five forms and, in triplicate. Upon which the god in question has to wait for the files to move from a series of piles on Dale's desk to the filing cabinet.

Now of course the gods do have some control over Dale. With the right amount of encouragement, Dale can be prodded to do a great many things...even to speed up on occasion. After all, bureaucracy aside, if some blasphemer says "god damn", and then gets struck by lightening ten years later while teeing up during a thunderstorm, who makes the connection? It's much more appropriate if the lightening comes shortly after the offence, although on occasion the lightning has struck before the offence (and then who could really blame the potty-mouth?).

And it was because of bureaucracy, which involves paper work, that Death itself was at Dale's door. Death wanted someone killed, which is not normally a problem for someone whose job it was to...well...kill people. But he wanted this particular person killed before her due date. Now it's one thing to push an order ahead of the stack, but to pull it once it's been filed...

"Let me get this straight," Dale said, "You want Cynthia killed." Death nodded. Ever since they'd introduced casual Fridays, Death had lost some of the mystique he used to hold for Dale. Right now, Death was wearing and pair of khakis and a button up flannel shirt.

"The problem," Dale continued, "is that she's not scheduled to die for another ten years." He squinted and looked closer at the form, "In a car wreck, I think. I can't quite make out the writing."

Death nodded again.

"Are you sure you can't wait ten years? I run a wonderful dating service to bring together new arrivals with some of the older, more respected inhabitants."

Death scratched his head. He'd met Cynthia about two months ago while attending a charity function. Unfortunately, the seafood chip dip was bad and everyone got violently ill and died. Except for Cynthia, that is, as she was allergic to seafood and never touched the stuff. Death was so impressed by Cynthia's composure during the incident, not blinking once in the face of it all, that he fell instantly in love with her. After all, that's what he needed, someone who could look him in the face without blinking.

Death slumped his shoulders and looked at the floor. Dale took it as a "no" to waiting. It was painful to see Death so lovesick. He would have loved to help Death, but policy was policy.

Death reached into his pocket and took out a mitt-full of cash. Dale stared at it, his eyes widening. "The amount of paper work involved in changing an order is quite overwhelming. Just to create a possibility, everything has to be filled out in triplicate...twice..."

Death had never given too much thought to the paper work involved before. Every morning he got his work order and went to work. He'd assumed that the names on it were pretty much random. And they had been in the beginning, until one day when some god's (no one can remember who) illegitimate half-mortal son got run over by an advancing army on horseback.

Ten-thousand hooves were a lot of hooves for a half-mortal. After that, Dale took over the list to make sure nothing untoward happened again without at the very least leaving a paper trail. Soon Dale started taking on other responsibilities, such as making sure that different gods didn't inflict the same area with conflicting disasters. It just wouldn't do to have an area that was supposed to be experiencing a draught to be swamped by tidal waves.