The embarrassed soul of M. Oppenheimer didn't know what to do with himself.
- Am I still a 'he'?
He had failed Inga. Inga. Of all people. The very Inga that he so many times had encountered at the Facility's Christmasparties and whatnot. He had thought it would have been the perfect revenge on Olof Gruber, that arrongant stuck up piece of shit.
- Olof honey, don't worry, it happens to everybody sometime. Maybe you are stressed about something?
Olof himself was in fact dangling in limbo, thinking he was dreaming. He saw it all from above, himself in bed with his wife, but it wasn't really him, he could feel it. It was like looking at a stranger in the mirror, or a doppelganger. A twin.
He tried shouting:
- Inga, can you hear me?
- No, Inga can't hear you, but I can!
Olof heard a voice booming right in his head, while the body turned its head around staring right at him. He freezed. He had never been this afraid in his entire life before.
- What is happening!? I can't think anymore...
Olof studdered in despair.
- Shut up you idiot, I'm trying to fuck your wife!
Now he recognized the voice.
- Oppenheimer? Is it you? No, this can't be happening. I need to wake up.
- I have control of your body now and I will only allow you back inside again if you never mention this to anyone.
Someone else was also watching. The creature. Or Cursor Versus, a fine name for impressing newcomers. It was a spur of the moment inspiration that made him come up with it. Or she. The creature was as ambivalent about gender as it was with names. There was no use for such narrow definitions in this dimension.
- Ok, I admit total failure.
It said to itself while trying to surpress unstoppable laughter.
- But this is so entertaining. I didn't think Oppenheimer had it in him. Evil. I guess I was wrong too.
But he wasn't. He knew all along what would happen and had just let the events play out themselves in perfect order. You see, even in the afterlife there are rules, as mentioned before, and agendas, stories to unfold and relationships to uphold.