“Let us begin arbitration.” Death’s voice preceded his appearance. More aptly, the appearance of the room that Albert now found himself in.

Death was seated at a table in the middle of a dimly lit room. The floor was a patchwork of wooden planks, the walls were covered in peeling floral print wallpaper, the ceiling… didn’t exist. It appeared as though there was some form of dark black cloud occluding the ceiling, but not the single grimy light bulb hanging from a wire that provided the glow that illuminated the room.

In front of Death was a grand, but heavily aged, desk made out of dark wood. There was nothing on the desk apart from dust and Death’s hands. He was seated casually in a simple chair, the sort that are typically in public buildings and the waiting area of cheap businesses, with his palms down on the desk.

“Take a seat. Place your hands on the table and we can begin.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Albert wasn’t actually sorry, but he couldn’t help using the familiar phrase out of shock.

“Arbitration. You speak your case, I speak mine. We agree on a mutually beneficial outcome… or perhaps one not so mutually beneficial, and then we carry on. If we disagree, we either get over our differences or you fade into nothingness as your limited time remaining in the physical world passes.”

“What the h…”

“Hands on the table, Albert.” Death interrupted. “It will keep us both honest.”

Albert paused and gave the man across the table a skeptical look. Slowly, intuiting that no other information would be given until he complied, Albert took a seat in an equally modest looking chair and placed his hands down on the wooden surface of the desk in the same manner as Death.

“Now, state your case.” Death gave a casual nod towards Albert.

“I…” Death nodded him on, prompting, “don’t want to die.”

“I want your soul and all that comes with it.”

“Now what?”

“Albert, arbitration does not stop there. Please, I do not want to regret putting forth so much effort for this.”

“I’m only seventeen. I’m too young do die.”

Death eyed the desk, mildly confused; though, Albert couldn’t quite see why.

“Regardless of whether or not you want to die, your body has been killed.”

“I walked down a street and got pushed into the ground. How am I dead? Dead is dead. I’m not dead.”

“Your body is dead. Your being… your soul, your spirit, is dying—fading from existence. If your spirit dies, you cease to exist and I get nothing.”

“And you want my soul. Then, tell me why I should give it to you.”

“I can use it better than you, and I can use the rest of what comes with it better than you.”

“Explain that.”

“Explain what? If you speak vaguely, I can talk around you.”

Death’s upfront approach was confusing to Albert. Either he was smarter, or at least smart enough to know what to say, or he knew something Albert didn’t.

“What’s, the rest? What else is there for you, specifically, other than my soul?”

Death paused. His hands twitched for a moment, as though unsure of whether to remain in place or move somewhere else. To Albert, it looked like Death was resisting the urge to fidget or carry out some nervous tick. After a moment of silence Death pressed his hands firmly back down onto the desk.

“There are things beyond the soul which you possess that I would like from you. Exactly what, I cannot be sure. But I know that there is, what is the most succinct word… property, I suppose you could say, indelibly attached to your soul.”

Albert thought for a moment. None of what Death had said was making any sense. So much information was being thrust upon him all at once, and he wasn’t about to trust some stranger. Even if that stranger was inhumanly strong, seemed to be able to move faster than the eye could see, and had trapped him in an impossible space as if by magic. Those last few things in particular were bothering Albert.

“How’m I supposed to trust that?” Albert pushed back against the table and held his hands up in confusion. Death remained calm. “That’s not the way the world works. That’s… are you kidding me with this soul crap? Telling me I’m dead? Is that supposed to be some kind of scam method? Am I going to wake up in an alleyway missing my kidneys or something? I mean, come on! You can’t expect me to believe any of this, can you?”

“Sit down, Albert.” Death was smiling. Not a cruel or intelligent smile, but the sort of smile that someone about to deliver a clever joke has. It was the strange combination of that smile and his whole appearance that compelled Albert to at least pause.

“Sit down, put your hands on the table, and try to lie to me.”

Albert glared, but complied; the chair offering a small squeak of protest as it was scraped across the well worn wooden floor. Albert locked eyes with Death and placed his hands down in the same place they had been before. The wood was still warm.

“I love…” Albert gagged, paused, and gagged again as he had tried to push the words out of his mouth. “Why can’t I say that I love mushrooms?”

“As a food or as a form of life?”

“No. What? What’s going on?”

“You have voluntarily placed your hands on the table. You cannot lie while you continue to offer the truth here.”

“I’m not offering the…” Albert was cut off again by an unseen force.

“This is a sort of implied agreement. By placing your hands on the table, you agree to offer only the truth.”

“And you?”

“When I put my hands on the table, I agree to the same things.”

“You can’t prove that though, can you.”

“A clever comment. You acknowledge that, while I could attempt to lie as you have done, you would be unable to determine how genuine I am. Even if I stuttered quite convincingly.”

“You’re saying I’ll have to trust you on that?”

“Yes. Trust is integral to the agreement here. I trust you to be honest with me, truly, and I would hope you trust me similarly.”

“Okay.” Albert paused. He had an idea formulating in his mind, but wasn’t entirely sure if it would work or even matter. But if he could use Death’s eagerness to prove his honesty to his advantage, he could ask questions that would help him both make sense of the situation and maybe turn it to his advantage.

“Death,” Albert began his question quizzically, “why do you want my soul specifically?”

“Your soul is as good as any other, to be clear. But you possess some additional property and, conveniently, you happened to be dying while I was nearby.”

“And how did you know that?”

Death’s hands began to twitch again, though his expression remained the same; still cold, still calculating, still apparently very much in control. Albert watched carefully to make sure he wasn’t hovering his hands over the surface of the desk.

“An…associate,” Death’s pause didn’t seem to be the sort of stutter that Albert had experienced in his attempts to lie, it was more of an introspective pause, “of mine who lives in your neighborhood and who I have granted the ability to detect such things as are attached to your soul, contacted me shortly before the death of your body. I actually arrived in the area to make you a deal for that property, though it would appear that I arrived after the death of your body.”

“And who is this associate?” Albert pressured. There were other questions on his mind, questions like are you saying you can grant people super powers? or perhaps, if you heard about me before my body died and arrived after, how long was my body dead for? But there were only so many opportunities to ask questions on this same train of thought. Those other unspoken questions could come later, if at all. If Albert veered too far from the topic, it would give Death more opportunity to run around and adjust his story.

“A young man by the name of Dickie, if you would believe it. At first I believed it was a nickname of sorts, but he signed his contract as such without issue. I would say it is an unfortunate name, but I have also heard much worse.”

A memory began to return to Albert at the mention of the name. Not a full memory, just a voice he didn’t recognize. Two voices.

You ‘hunn-ed percent positive, Dickie?

Positive. They’re loaded. Or they got somethin big. Never seen somethin like this before.

Albert couldn’t place it. It was like remembering dialogue from a movie he had seen years ago. Not even an image. Nothing to link it to a place or time.

“And it just so happens that I died shortly after you were alerted, so that you would be more likely to scoop up my vulnerable soul and reap the rewards?”

“It is rather convenient, is it not?”

“Who killed me?”

“Pardon?”

“You arrived just after my body was killed. It seems likely you saw something. Or if this Dickie was around and keeping an on me for you, I’m sure he saw.”

“A logical presumption.” Death kept up his calm smile, but Albert could tell he was avoiding the question. Almost every other answer up to that point had been straightforward.

“Do you know who killed my body?”

“Yes.” Death shrugged, as if assenting that the direct question could not be easily avoided.

“Who was it?”

“A different young man. I believe his name was Austin. Though, if you had any lingering curiosity on the matter, Austin is now dead.” Death seemed pleased with the inclusion that Albert’s killer was also dead.

“And I assume you killed him.”

“I did end his life. Yes.”

“Okay.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Death resumed his ‘arbitration.’

“You seem to have accepted that information quite well. Do you have further questions on the nature of your predicament?”

“I need to process some things.” Albert hissed through clenched teeth. There was so much bothering him, but still so little he understood. Worse, he couldn’t think of the right questions to ask.

“Perhaps I should state my case then? Perhaps that will give you the perspective you require to process the information you have been given.”

Albert remained silent, hands still on the table, head slumped slightly.

“Your soul helps fuel me. I am a being beyond your understanding and mortal requirements. Beyond that, many other beings depend on me to fulfill the means of my nature. I act in a necessary capacity to maintain balance in the world. So while the soul you cling to so dearly is no greater than any other, I can make use of it better than you merely by subsisting on it. Further, I can utilize the property linked to your soul, while you cannot. At least not in your current state.”

Albert paused for a moment, a thought finally catching in his mind. It was the second time that Death had said that his soul in particular was nothing special.

“Are you holding my soul hostage?”

“Would you like to elaborate?”

“This is a ‘if I can’t have it, than no one can’ situation, isn’t it.”

“Yes. In that sense, you could say that I am holding your soul hostage.”

“So, it doesn’t matter what I say. Whatever happens, you either get my soul or I die for good.”

“It may feel like that realization took quite a few hoops for you to jump through before that sank in, but you might also be surprised by how many people never reach that conclusion in these scenarios.”

“So you arranged for this to happen. I assume Austin was also an associate of yours?”

“I would be lying if I said I did not know him prior to today.”

“So, you have no right to my soul.”

Albert paused. He watched Death’s now genuinely confused look and followed it to the table where both sets of hands still rested on the surface.

“That wasn’t a question. That was a statement.” Albert grinned. “A true statement.”

“What you might consider as right is something that may be construed as many things.”

“No. This means I can make statements and determine their validity without having to rely on you for truthfulness. If the table lets me say it, then it’s true.”

“Albert, I hope you…”

“There is another way out of this for me, other than giving Death my soul.”

Albert grinned. Death frowned. The table had turned in the most figurative way.