Right as Faust was sewing up the cadaver’s mouth, somebody hammered furiously on the door of the antechamber.

"Hey, goddamnit!'' the somebody shouted. It was that woman with the gravelly voice, back to pester him. "We know you're in there, so open up, already!"

Faust stifled a yawn. It had gotten deathly cold in the church overnight, so he'd undone his ponytail and swaddled himself in his own hair as he prepped the body. When he pulled the graveyard shift, he always ended up feeling like the corpses he treated.

Oh, look, there was a number shining out of his hand now. If the hallucinations were starting to kick in, then it must be past dawn. He couldn't wait to clock out.

"We don't have time to fuck around here!" shouted the woman. God, what an unpleasant voice. Like the only thing she drank was cigarettes.

A man who sounded like he only smiled with his teeth said, "I'll break it down, shall I?"

"Well, yeah! What are you waiting for, Tarquin?"

Tarquin cleared his throat and rapped on the door with all the force of a dormouse.

"Um... do excuse me," he said, "I will have to do a small amount of damage to your property, is that alright?"

"What's the point of asking for permission? Give me that."

There was a deafening smash on the door. Not that Faust cared much about money or anything, but any damage to the church would probably come out of his pocket. It was time to reign these weirdos in.

"Cut it out," he mumbled, before remembering that he had to project his voice when he spoke.

There was another blow to the door. An oppressive cloud of dust wafted over him, making him cough. How... how absolutely inconsiderate. He shuffled to the entrance.

"Stop that at once, you lunatics," said Faust. "If you really want to come in, well -- welcome to my humble workplace."

He lifted the wooden bar that kept precisely these kinds of degenerates out and tried to open the door. The thing held firmly in place.

Tarquin rapped lightly on the knocker. "...Are you going to let us in, then?"

"I did say... welcome... to my... humble..." Faust's face strained with effort. "Why isn't it cooperating? Am I actually getting bullied by a door?"

"I'm running out of patience here," said the woman. "Sounds like you're not up to speed, and I'm not gonna drag my feet like SOMEBODY here. Look, what's your name?"

Faust rolled his eyes, still tugging away at the little iron ring on the door. "I have the most embarrassing name on the planet."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Tarquin. God, Faust would murder an orphanage to have a name like Tarquin.

The woman said, "We don't need your life story, man. Just give me something I can call you."

He mumbled, "...Faust."

"What?"

"Faust! Now go and laugh it up, like the rest of them!" He stepped away from and went back to look at the cadaver. Unlike most people, cadavers were good listeners, and they never ever judged. For all intents and purposes, he'd brought this granny back to life for one last hoorah at an open casket funeral.

"That's quite a nice name," said Tarquin. "It's very unique."

"Oh, fuck off with your 'unique'," said Faust, smoothing out the granny's wig. "Nobody can understand the level of harassment I've endured! Nobody!"

"Well that's quite rude, isn't it?"

"I'm Connie," said the woman, panic lacing her voice. "Look, how quickly do you adapt to having your worldview shattered? We don't have much time."

"Speaking of shattering, shall I get the door?" said Tarquin, followed by another crash.

Connie said, "Yeah. Okay, Faust. Mind blowing fact number one -- everybodys' doors have been glued shut."

She paused, and for a time all was still. Then Tarquin hit the door and more dust cycloned through the antechamber.

"Well?" she barked. "Are you listening?"

"Yes," said Faust. "Sorry, I was waiting for my mind to be blown."

"Oh my god. You're supposed to say, 'There's no way!', or 'How can that be possible?'!"

"There's no way." Faust said in a tone with more bite than a rattlesnake. "How can that be possible, etc."

"Alright, dickhead! How about the fact that you're no longer in your bedroom, but actually high up in a tower in the middle of nowhere?"

Faust shrugged. That's why it was so cold, he guessed. "There's no way... how can that be possible..."

"Can you please stop being such a sarcy prick and react properly to these bombshells?"

Tarquin said, between heavy gasps, "Calm down, Connie. There's no need to talk to people like that, is there?"

"Yes?" she spat. "Okay, how about the fact that there's a count slowly ticking up and when that number hits 10,000, one of us is going to die?"

"Huh," said Faust, holding up his hand. "THAT number."

"...That's all you have to say?"

"Let me think," said Faust. He thought about it for a bit. Even stroked his beard for a while. "Yep."

Connie sighed like a deflating balloon. "Alright, so there's nine of us up this tower, and if we all get together, we can all vote with something called the 'Democratisation of Reality' which lets us change the situation to anything we want it to be."

"So...?"

"Aaargh," screamed Connie. It sounded like she was punching the wall.

"So," panted Tarquin, "We need to get everybody together and vote to make it so that nobody has to die, don't we?"

"Ah, yeah," said Faust. "Good work guys, that's a solid plan."

At last, the door gave way and shattered into a million splinters. A short punk and an old guy wearing a fur coat ran in.

Two things then happened:

Connie said, "What the fuck, is that a DEAD BODY?"

And an ostrich the size of an elephant charged up the stairs.