Arthur Pringle died as he lived: pointing out a typo in a spreadsheet. He expected a tunnel of light; he got a flickering fluorescent hallway that smelled of industrial floor wax and damp wool.Welcome to the Afterlife, a sprawling, infinite office park where hope goes to be filed chronologically. Here, your "e;unfinished business"e; isn't a metaphor—it's literal, indestructible luggage. And if your suitcase is too heavy with secrets, regrets, or that one time you didn't return a library book in 1994, you aren't getting on the flight to Eternal Rest. You're staying in the terminal. Forever.Drafted into the Department of Unclaimed Baggage, Arthur finds himself reporting to a jackal-headed god who can't use a stapler and a corporate-demon boss who's monetising human misery through overpriced "e;Soul Coffee."e;But when Arthur discovers that the CEO (God) has been "e;out to lunch"e; for four millennia, leaving the universe on a buggy, unmonitored script, he does the only logical thing: he promotes himself to Interim COO.Equipped with a sentient sandwich, a 10,000-page HR Handbook, and a terrifyingly efficient sense of order, Arthur is about to prove that salvation isn't about divine grace—it's about properly managed logistics.Eternity is a mess. Arthur is bringing a label maker.
