Author: Julian Miles,  Staff Writer

“Time of death: five twenty-one.”
Ben glances away from the clock as the doors of the operating theatre swing open. Three figures in grey suits enter. Following behind them is a cadaver drone.
The foremost points to the body on the table.
“Ours.”
Ben’s about to obstruct the intruders when Nurse Kino grabs him by the arm.
“Let them.”
The nearest figure turns slightly and inclines their head towards her. Ben notices the rest of the surgical team have stepped back.
The drone opens to reveal a padded bench. As it does so, the body on the operating table lifts into the air. Implements and equipment drift down to settle gently on the table. Sutures and staples spring from the body and alight like feathers.
With the shedding of medical sundries completed, the body floats into the drone and settles on the bench.
The rearmost figure speaks.
“Thank you for your respect.”
Before Ben can formulate a reply, the three visitors exit, drone in their wake.
The doors swing to.
He looks about, watching the others exchange glances.
“Somebody care to tell the contractor what just happened?”
Nurse Kino hastily releases his arm, then pats it lightly.
“That was a retrieval team from Re:Life.”
He pauses, smirks, then bursts out laughing.
“Okay. You caught me with that. Don’t try following up with cryogenics, though. Who were they?”
Senior Nurse Clara steps across to back Kino.
“She wasn’t joking. You just encountered the Beings from Heaven.”
Ben raises a hand.
“You’re serious. You believe those were Angelics?”
“They exist. Third time this year they’ve come for the dead.”
Ben looks about. He sees nods of agreement.
“I thought they only turned up for the rich?”
Nurse Naront waves a tentacle in disagreement.
“It is said they come for those who have made an arrangement with them. Others do say it’s down to being able to pay. Yet some say they’re being taken to pay for another’s sins. A few believe it’s selection by genetic purity, but there’s no agreement about criteria. The truth? Nobody knows.”
Ben dodges the nurses and runs through the doors. Only way to find out is to ask, because it’s clear the surgical team haven’t. He calls to a nearby orderly.
“Three suits. Drone carrier. Which way?”
The man points back past him towards the grav shafts, then points up. Ben races that way and throws himself into the ascent shaft. Wafting rapidly upwards, he thinks about which floor: long term care, premiere ward, Skyline Restaurant, or landing pad?
“Landing pad.”
Exiting the grav shaft, he jogs along a short hallway and arrives on the open roof, chill early morning air cutting through his scrubs to make him shiver.
The pads are empty.
“We don’t need vessels, Ben.”
Ben spins about. One of the figures stands nearby, a portal of sparkling energy at their back.
“We merely avoid witnesses.”
“Why?”
“Secrecy. The truth you want is simple: some beings deserve a second chance, free from the ties of their previous existence. We provide it.”
“How much?”
“Nothing. We choose.”
“Why bother to talk to me, then?”
“You’re wasting your talent because of one mistake.”
Ben takes a step back.
“If you die without forgiving yourself, we will offer you this chance.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because if this encounter changes the direction of your life, another can be gifted.”
“How will you know?”
“Things work differently where we come from.”
“So that’s it?”
They step back through the portal.
“Yes.”
The portal closes.
Ben stands and watches the dawn, wrestling with both conscience and disbelief.