We All Need to Work

Anubis watched as his father, Osiris, watered the fields with a simple wave of his finger. Seated on his golden throne, cushioned by a blue linen pillow, he glanced across where Isis scribbled her magical enchantments on papyrus. Nature sprouted through the window in front of her overlooking the fields of Aaru, while Seth patrolled the sandy terrain with his staff.

“Dear, shouldn’t you find a hobby too?” Isis inquired, noticing his gaze.

“I don’t want a hobby, I want a profession like all of you,” Anubis replied.

“Well, son, one must remember to be responsible and consistent in their work. Once you’ve chosen a job, you can’t back out, and you’ll have to wake up early. You know your brother Horus’s watchful gaze won’t forgive you if you break your word,” said Isis.

“I know, I know, but I want to feel useful. I’ll come up with something, you’ll see,” Anubis said, glancing at the screen displaying humans on Earth, particularly Pharaoh Horus Scorpion savoring baklava, honey slowly flowing from his lips, eager to explore the outside world.

“I’ve had an idea! What if we pretend they cease to exist? Just to make the experience more exciting. They can return as if they’ve been revived, after a purifying process, with new identities and all that stuff, of course,” Anubis suggested.

“But Anubis, death doesn’t exist. Souls are eternal,” said Osiris.

“I know, but let’s simulate it. I could manage that process, you know? Oh, and we could even make up a story about ourselves to add more drama—say, my uncle Seth kills my father for the throne, and we revive him. Something like that,” Anubis continued.

It was a sunny morning in the Field of Reeds, and river lilies crackled with light when Horus approached Anubis, whose jackal ears twitched as he slept.

“You slacker, what’s happening with your job?!” Horus said, not even trying to whisper.

“W-What are you talking about? Nothing’s wrong, everything’s up to date,” Anubis said, rubbing his large, slanted eyes.

“Up to date?! What do you have to say about this almost thousand-year-old Methuselah, eh?” Horus inquired.

“Oops,” Anubis swallowed nervously, realizing that the business of death was more convoluted than he initially thought.