The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(47)
Valentino reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Well, I’m really happy I’ve met you. It’s nice to know my heart is going to a good person.”
“Only good? You called me great before. How can I regain some points?”
“Let me think,” he says.
If Valentino asked for a kiss, he’d find my lips on his so fast.
It’s hard being this close to him and not being with him.
I feel like we’re connecting, I’m not just telling myself some story. I legit believe that if Death-Cast hadn’t called Valentino, then I would have put my number into his phone and we would’ve made plans to hang out—maybe even directly called it a date—and gotten to know each other at a fast-and-steady rate. But we don’t get a tomorrow; we’re barely getting a today. Soon, his sister will land in New York and they’ll spend as much time together as they can, and if all goes well, we’d reunite at the hospital for the surgery, where it will be too late to live like we are right now—two guys sharing a bed in the middle of the night, opening our hearts to each other like when we first met.
I don’t want to regret not saying anything—not taking action.
“Valentino?” I whisper.
I wait for him to say my name back, but he only answers with a gentle snore, one that rumor has it will erupt through this empty studio in no time. I stay up as long as I can, listening to Valentino sleep before I finally pass out too.
Scarlett Prince
1:09 a.m. (Mountain Standard Time)
The plane was supposed to take off now, but instead, it remains grounded with the pilot still sealed away in the cockpit—and armed forces outside. Scarlett assumes the pilot himself must’ve alerted someone. Before anyone could even escape through the emergency exit, security and police officers surrounded the plane, instructing everyone to stay inside as they investigate the threat.
“Remain calm,” the pilot had said after quelling all concerns about flying everyone to their deaths.
But how can people remain calm if they were never calm in the first place?
Passengers are banging on windows and threatening the copilot and flight attendants.
Scarlett is scared for her life, but knows she shouldn’t be.
If she were going to die, then Death-Cast would’ve called.
Naya Rosa
4:30 a.m.
Death-Cast did not call Naya Rosa because she isn’t dying today, but how can anyone be sure after a Decker has managed to slip through the cracks of their system?
And then another and another and another.
Four lives gone without warning. These are only the reported cases so far. How many more stories will come out by the morning? How many souls will have moved on without anyone to even announce their untimely passing?
The birth of Death-Cast was supposed to be the death of worry.
But worry is all Naya feels in her heart right now.
Is her son safe? Her husband? Herself?
What about all the dedicated employees who are still working the phone lines, closing out this final hour as they reach out to Deckers on the West Coast? Naya is concerned for their mental wellness too. How many of them are ready to snap under the weight of grief?
Originally, the government had pitched Death-Cast being operated through robocalls for efficiency. Joaquin was very close to leaning into this idea when Naya spoke up. In the same way that doctors personally deliver unfavorable diagnoses, Naya believed that calling to tell someone they were going to die needed that human touch. Discovering your life was over by some prerecorded message was too cold.
In advocating for the Deckers, Naya knew she must take care of the heralds too.
She first designed this open-floor plan to protect the heralds’ well-being, not wanting them isolated in personal offices or divided in cubicles. There are four long glossy white tables, each able to sit five people. Everyone is encouraged to personalize their spaces with joyful pictures of loved ones, pets, anything that keeps the threads to their own lives strong so they never become hopeless. And while Naya had toyed around with the idea of stationing little speakers around the call center that played calming music, she decided to have fountains installed to keep everyone connected to actual nature while working their shifts.
Once the End Day calls have concluded tonight, all the employees—both heralds and customer service reps—have mandated group counseling with the option for private sessions too. Naya will also make herself available for personal feedback on how best the company can meet their needs.
Hopefully there will still be a company after tonight.
Naya steps away from the heart of the call center and joins Alano and Bucky in one of the private booths reserved for heralds who need a moment after any interaction that brought them distress. She doesn’t know who has more energy right now, her son or the puppy, but watching them play together brings the biggest smile on her face.
“You should go back to sleep,” Naya says.
“I like being up late,” Alano says.
“Don’t get used to it. Regular bedtime tomorrow.”
This includes herself, desperate to be asleep in her own bed.
This year has been beyond exhausting. The public only became aware of Death-Cast on the first of July but so much work has gone into the program behind the scenes. Everything had to be done discreetly. For instance, the architects believed they were building a customer service center for a new phone that will be releasing; something that is part of Death-Cast’s long game but not happening for another few years.