The Understanding Dead

It truly was astounding, 87 mused to themselves, just how reasonable the dead were.

They did not complain, did not attempt to force conversation, and were as keen to get the evenings work over with as was 87 themselves. If they were at times difficult to move, causing 87’s two assistants some inconvenience, then that was hardly on them. They were dead, and that rather put a limit on how helpful a person could be. That was entirely understandable, and 87 held no grudge as a result.
Whilst passengers, the dead were without complaint even during the roughest bumps of the old carts poor suspension over the less than well-maintained streets. They knew 87 was also uncomfortable on the ride, and that if there was something that could be done 87 would have done it. They simply shut up and let 87 get it all over with. Reasonable, kind, understanding passengers. A delight to travel with, if you thought about it.

The living, however, goodness the living made the job hell. Even if most of the few 87 encountered were nice enough to keep to the side of the street and keep far away as the cart went past, some seemed oblivious and insisted on getting in the way. Some even yelled at 87, demanding answers of them that 87 was in no position to answer. Help was not their duty, nor was it on them to provide policy or answer. 87 was simply the one to take the departed to their final resting place on the cremation barges. In some ways, 87 mused to themselves at times, helping was the very last thing they should do. So long as the sickness continued to spread and burn away lives, 87 had the kind of job security that few could dream of.
Indeed, 87 chuckled at the thought, this was very much a lifelong career they had found themselves.

The families were the worst. Why did they have to make things so difficult when it was already hard enough? They would resist opening the door, they would wail as the departed were taken, some would even follow the cart for a time like a stray dog. Once, a man had torn open the wrappings around his wife’s face to give her one last kiss. 87 had come for him not long after. Perhaps that was the intent, a kiss not of “goodbye” but of “until later”. How poetic. How pathetic. Wouldn’t their loved one wish them to go on, to live happily? And of course, the last to die in a location was the hardest to find. Of course, 87 understood, the loss of one or more family members was hard. Of course, they understood that, of course. 87 was only human, they understood the pain of loss.
But, did they not understand 87’s position? If they were late, they would not be paid.

The dead were far nicer to work with, 87 felt. The sickness had that effect, it made them entirely sensible – eventually. If only their kin could learn from them. In fact, if all were dead then their work would be far easier. A shopkeeper once told 87 when they were young that “my job would be far more manageable if it were not for the customers”.
For 87, however, the customers were by far the easiest part.

Yes, yes indeed.
87 considered it entirely factual to state that the dead were a most agreeable folk.