REBIRTH

The man who collects souls yelled, “Hey, I have another bag,” and I ran over to take it from him. It was my turn. He had again overfilled the bag and I had to drag it with both hands, spun about to best use my hamstrings. Nearly curled into a backwards ball, there I went across the dust floor in front of the other boys waiting their turns. They would not be waiting long.

I arrived alongside the pit, then sat down on the other side of the nearly breached bag, braced myself with my hands behind me and employed both legs to push the stuffed bag in. It made no noise as it hit the other bags already resident in the pit. No squeal of souls, no shifting of weight. I looked over the edge, identified the tethered souls I had just dropped in. I knew they would be there, but I like to confirm the end of my labor.

Back to the ready line. Already, another boy is making his way across the floor. It looks like he has lucked out with a lighter load. I think they should match the size of boy to the heft of bag, but all that would take more planning and perhaps additional staff, and there is just no time.

Anyway, I will graduate from here soon enough. My time done, I will move to the repacking station, at the end of the line where, after the souls in the pit are compacted, pressed out of their bags, I will get to put them level into the moldings, touch them up a little before reanimation. It is not just a matter of pour and flatten. I will be up the chain then. I can add a flourish now and again, pretend I am customizing the soul, even though what I am really doing is randomizing it. Little good it will do the next spark of fertilization that gets it.