#comedy

Shira, Sumi, and Freya: A Halloween Special

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Freya had been Athena for seventeen minutes when someone handed her a clipboard.

This was not among the goddess's traditional responsibilities.

"Could you manage the queue for a moment?" the woman asked.

Freya looked down at the clipboard.

There were twenty-six names, three columns, and no indication of what any of them meant.

"What am I managing?"

"The queue."

"Yes. For what?"

"The haunted house."

"Is there a capacity limit?"

"Forty, I think."

"You think?"

The woman looked toward the building behind her.

"Look, I'm sorry. We're having a difficult evening."

Freya examined the clipboard again.

She could already see four things wrong with it.

This was irritating.

She had not come to the Halloween festival to correct administrative deficiencies.

She had come because Sumi had purchased three tickets in August and announced, at dinner, that October thirty-first was now a contractual obligation.

Shira had objected.

Freya had pointed out that they were not contracts.

Sumi had explained that the tickets were nonrefundable.

Freya had asked how much they cost.

Shira had looked at her.

"Don't."

Freya had asked anyway.

And now she was standing outside a century-old theater wearing an ivory-and-gold costume, carrying a ceremonial spear, and attempting to determine whether the number twenty-six meant tickets sold, visitors admitted, or a theoretical estimate of the number of people currently hiding in the building.

Shira had been on vacation for nine minutes when she learned that the vacation had performance objectives.

She stared at the document on Freya's phone.

"No."

"You haven't read it."

"It has percentages."

"They're time allocations."

"That's worse."

Freya held the phone closer.

MOUNTAIN GETAWAY: PROPOSED ITINERARY

Friday: Arrival, check-in, hot springs, dinner.

Saturday: Morning trail hike, village exploration, optional mobility session.

Sunday: Morning walk, scenic overlook, restorative bathing.

Monday: Departure.

Beneath the schedule was a section labeled Weather Contingencies.

Shira looked at Freya.

"You've scheduled relaxation."

"I've protected time for it."

"From what?"

"Other activities."

"Which you also scheduled."

"Yes."

Shira closed her eyes.

Sumi, meanwhile, had fallen in love with the building.

The ryokan stood on a wooded mountainside in Nagano Prefecture, above a narrow road that wound through cedar forest and disappeared into pale afternoon mist. Its roofs were dark tile, its outer walls weathered timber, and its windows faced a valley where distant mountains rose in overlapping shades of blue.

A stream ran beside the property.

Somewhere among the trees, water was falling over stone.

Sumi stood beneath the entrance lanterns holding her suitcase with both hands.

"Oh, this is beautiful."

Shira opened one eye.

It was.

The building had the quiet confidence of something that had been standing there for a long time without feeling any particular need to advertise itself.

Freya had been in the kingdom for eleven minutes when she learned that she was qualified to manage its accounts payable.

This was not what she had expected from another world.

“I would like to appeal,” she said.

The dragon behind the registration desk adjusted his spectacles.

He was approximately the size of a large dog, with moss-green scales, two small horns, and a pair of wings folded neatly against his back. A silver chain connected his spectacles to a button on his waistcoat.

“On what grounds?”

“Incorrect classification.”

“Do you possess evidence?”

“I am an athlete.”

The dragon waited.

“I train six days a week.”

“Very commendable.”

“I can deadlift one hundred and twenty kilograms.”

“Congratulations.”

“I have competitive rowing experience.”

“Excellent.”

Freya leaned forward.

“Why am I a Court Administrator?”

The dragon consulted the glowing crystal mounted above his desk.

“Because you are a Court Administrator.”

Shira made a small sound behind her.

Freya turned.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I inhaled.”

“You inhaled sarcastically.”

Shira looked toward the ceiling.

“I can't control how you interpret oxygen.”

The dragon tapped a claw against a parchment.

“Your aptitude has been verified by the Crown's Classification Prism. Appeals may be submitted in writing, provided the appellant can establish a procedural irregularity.”

“Good,” Freya said. “Where is the form?”

The dragon looked at her.

Something in his expression changed.