Death-Cast did not call Naya Rosa because she isn’t dying today, but how can anyone be sure after a Decker has managed to slip through the cracks of their system?
And then another and another and another.
Four lives gone without warning. These are only the reported cases so far. How many more stories will come out by the morning? How many souls will have moved on without anyone to even announce their untimely passing?
The birth of Death-Cast was supposed to be the death of worry.
But worry is all Naya feels in her heart right now.
Is her son safe? Her husband? Herself?
What about all the dedicated employees who are still working the phone lines, closing out this final hour as they reach out to Deckers on the West Coast? Naya is concerned for their mental wellness too. How many of them are ready to snap under the weight of grief?
Originally, the government had pitched Death-Cast being operated through robocalls for efficiency. Joaquin was very close to leaning into this idea when Naya spoke up. In the same way that doctors personally deliver unfavorable diagnoses, Naya believed that calling to tell someone they were going to die needed that human touch. Discovering your life was over by some prerecorded message was too cold.
In advocating for the Deckers, Naya knew she must take care of the heralds too.
She first designed this open-floor plan to protect the heralds’ well-being, not wanting them isolated in personal offices or divided in cubicles. There are four long glossy white tables, each able to sit five people. Everyone is encouraged to personalize their spaces with joyful pictures of loved ones, pets, anything that keeps the threads to their own lives strong so they never become hopeless. And while Naya had toyed around with the idea of stationing little speakers around the call center that played calming music, she decided to have fountains installed to keep everyone connected to actual nature while working their shifts.
Once the End Day calls have concluded tonight, all the employees—both heralds and customer service reps—have mandated group counseling with the option for private sessions too. Naya will also make herself available for personal feedback on how best the company can meet their needs.
Hopefully there will still be a company after tonight.
Naya steps away from the heart of the call center and joins Alano and Bucky in one of the private booths reserved for heralds who need a moment after any interaction that brought them distress. She doesn’t know who has more energy right now, her son or the puppy, but watching them play together brings the biggest smile on her face.
“You should go back to sleep,” Naya says.
“I like being up late,” Alano says.
“Don’t get used to it. Regular bedtime tomorrow.”
This includes herself, desperate to be asleep in her own bed.
This year has been beyond exhausting. The public only became aware of Death-Cast on the first of July but so much work has gone into the program behind the scenes. Everything had to be done discreetly. For instance, the architects believed they were building a customer service center for a new phone that will be releasing; something that is part of Death-Cast’s long game but not happening for another few years.
Once the news was out, things really began taking a toll on the Rosas. Close friends were frustrated that Joaquin and Naya wouldn’t share the secret behind the company’s predictions and were disturbed that they’ve had access to it for years and hadn’t shared the wealth sooner. Naya’s own family has been turning on Joaquin, viewing him as some mustache-twirling, greedy supervillain for not offering these services for free. Neighbors and strangers have turned their noses down on them at every chance they get, believing the family is running some scam that will inspire an Oscar-worthy film in the years to come. Though what breaks Naya’s heart the most has been how often Alano was bullied by friends and even harassed by some parents at the park; adopting Bucky last week isn’t going to solve all of Alano’s struggles, but the puppy has been a wonderful distraction that keeps him from crying every night.