Epilogue

Ever Thanatosikos

1 JUNE 2000 - 1 JUNE 2080

It is with great pain and sadness that I, Derrick Langdon, Lord Mayor of Melbourne, announce the passing of Ever Thanatosikos.

As the proprietor of Pagoto’s Ice Creamery, Mr. Thanatosikos ensured that there was always a familiar face over the last four decades at Lygon Street. An enthusiastic participant of the annual Mid Summer Nights, he made sure there was plenty of ice cream and sorbet not just for the customers, but for the other vendors as well.

Over many, many years, he hired hundreds and hundreds of young adults looking for their first job. Numerous families have shared stories of how they worked there as a teenagers, sending their own teens there to work under Mr. Thanatosikos as a ‘dessert apprentice’. The common theme is that he is a patient and understanding mentor.

Mr. Thanatosikos has no known family, though older patrons may remember his beloved dachshund Mimi, whose photo is on the wall at the ice creamery.

For Ever In Our Hearts

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Ever came to be alive – well, not really. He’d taken his last, shuddering breath thirteen minutes ago. The doctor had come in, announced his time of death and left, the nurses leaving after her to begin the requisite preparations.

His eyes were open though – ghost eyes, that is. While still prone, he floated up. This feeling of being weightless… it had been far too long. Had he really been able to slip in and out of a ghost form many moons ago?

He sat upright – and would have jumped out of his skin if he had any. Someone was standing there. Not a doctor, not a nurse. Someone… wearing a dark hood that obscured their face.

“M-Mentor?”

The hooded, ethereal being shifted, cocking their head to the side, but otherwise not moving.

“Are you here to take me back to the Underworld?”

“Ya-huh.”

That voice. It was familiar, but it wasn’t the voice of his teacher when he was Death’s apprentice decades ago. It almost sounded like… but that would have meant…

“OK, time to put you out of your misery.”

The hooded being threw their hands forward, slender midnight-blue fingers gleaming with a silver light. They then pinched the corner of the hood and pulled it back over their head, shaking out black hair with a tress tipped blue.

“Taylor?” Ever said.

“Hey, that’s Madam Muerte to you,” she with a smirk. She walked towards Ever, eyes alight with glee. She looked like she hadn’t aged a day since the day that she died.

“You became a reaper?”

“I became the reaper, dude,” she replied. “Death found me floating around in the Underworld not long after I came down. Said that I had showed so much potential, he wanted me to be his second apprentice — and the rest is history.”

“That’s amazing.”

“I know.” Taylor looked at the back of her mystical hand, as if admiring a fresh manicure. “I launched my own apprenticeship program a while back, teaching souls how to reap without using the scythe. Like what I used to do at the hospital.”

“How’s that going?”

“Awesome! Record souls coming through to the Underworld, I’m not overworked, life – well, death’s – good.”

“Is Death… Mentor Death… well?”

“Probably. Disappeared after he formally handed the scythe over to me. He would mentally check in from time to time. He’s around but not around, if you know what I’m saying.” For a while, the two, old friends were quiet, happy to simply exist together once more.

“You’re here to reap me then?” Ever said.

“Well… yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just told you that I’m running a program, didn’t I?” Taylor tsked. “It’s a pretty complex operation. I’m going to need a second-in-command. Who better to ask than the OG guinea pig?”

“I’m not a guinea pig.”

“Ugh no, not literally. It means… you know what?” Taylor put her hand out. The space between her fingers rippled. Moments later, the scythe appeared in her gleaming hand with a pop, showering sparkles onto the starched hospital bed linen.

“Here.” She shoved the tool at him. “I need a lead apprentice to look after all the amateur reapers. I’m choosing you.”

Ever regarded himself in the blade of the scythe. While he had died as an old man, in the reflection he saw a young man with dark hair that grew nearly over his eyes. Slowly, he reached out his translucent hand. Just before his fingers closed around the shaft, he hesitated.

“You’re choosing me for this?” He said.

“That’s what I just said, didn’t I?” Taylor grinned. “It’s not the same as a scoop, but I’m sure you’ll pick it up quick. Anyway, what do you reckon? Are you in?”

THE END