The Liminal

I glance down as a notification pops up in the bottom right hand corner of my screen. I lazily click on it, expecting confirmation of a decision on my most recent case.

Instead the words DECISION: PENDING fill the screen. My blood (is it blood?!) runs through me, cold as ice. My hand holding the mouse vibrates like a mobile phone receiving 100 notifications at once. Barry at the desk across from me looks up, fingers his milk-bottle-thick glasses back up his nose and shoosh’s me. “Sorry” I whisper over, he shakes his head and looks back at his screen.

What on earth does DECISION: PENDING mean? I clearly know Decision Pending means that a decision has yet to be made, but I’ve never seen it before. Every case I’ve ever completed has come back saying DECISION: RECOMMENDATION CONFIRMED. This must have been, like, case number 60-something of my career. I quickly open up a new window, minimising the DECISION: PENDING to hide it away, maybe try and trick my body into calming down a little. I open up the LifeFile Database and click back into the case, opening up my report. I skim read the basic facts of the case. John Harkness, 42, dedicated father of three, local sports volunteer, loyal to his wife, no criminal activity except the odd speeding ticket and parking fine, good relationships with family. This must be a mistake. This man literally died saving a child from a burning house, why would it be pending? I wonder if I can appeal it, opening the window again with the dreaded DECISION: PENDING message on it, I look to see if it gives me any options. Nothing.

Panicking, I open back up the second window and begin to flick through his LifeFile. Beyond the photos, I try to quickly scan through the life stages data. From what I can remember, and from a second scan, the Formatives were relatively straight forward. Whilst my eyes are darting across the words, I’m not taking much in. I scan across the pages looking for anything that jumps out anyway. His Pubertys was a massive file, bigger than any other case I’ve worked on, I could easily have missed something in there but I don’t think I did. It just seemed that he did a lot as a teenager from what I can remember. Should I look through it just now? I really want to but I can’t, the anxiety of that DECISION: PENDING message is ingrained on my brain, it’s got me too wired and I can’t think straight. I really need to find out what is going on here, I need to find out what I’ve done. Because I’ve clearly done something.

Barry looks up at me again, looking puzzled, he looks like he’s going to ask me something but instead fingers those glasses back up his nose and gives me another sharp “Shhh” before looking back at his screen. “Sorryyyyy” I whisper. I wasn’t even aware I was making noise.

I really need to speak to someone because I don’t know what to do. I click onto the Adulthood tab of Harkness’ file. I’m sure it was fine, I covered most of it in my report. He was squeaky clean this guy. But I’ve clearly missed something. Shit. It must have been in the Puberty’s. I’ve always said to Tom that I think it’s too big an area to just have one file for. “Aye, a’ll have a think aboot it” he always says in his thick Glasgow accent. No evidence of him having thought about it yet. Shit.

What have I missed?

What have I MISSED?

Shit, shit, shit.

I jump up from my desk and run-walk my way past the massive lifeshelves which tower over the set of desks in search of Tom. Barry is definitely scowling at me as I round the top of the desks and pass by him. Everyone else I pass is working away, heads down. They don’t look at me but they must have noticed I’m freaking out. Keep it together.

Tom’ll know what this means, he trained me since my first day here. Given I’ve been dead for about 2 years now and have been working in the Liminal since 3 days after my Deathday and I’ve never even heard of a DECISION: PENDING case, I am very freaked out right now.

“Righto, first of all, calm yersel doon” says Tom.

It’s a relief to discover he already knew about the DECISION: PENDING case and he seems pretty relaxed. In fact he seems quite entertained. As my superior in the Liminal he receives notifications at the same time as me and he was sat at his desk expecting me. He was just sat there with a smirk on his face.

“Right pal” he says “you got your listening ears on? Here goes”. I feel like I should be sat cross-legged on the floor listening to my school teacher explaining the birds and the bees. Instead I kind of just perch myself on the end of his desk, not putting my full weight on it. This days going bad enough, last thing I want to do is go flying through my managers desk. Can’t imagine Barry would be too impressed.

“When someone crokes it, they don’t just pit them upstairs or doonstairs, there’s a 3 day waiting period where their file gets reviewed then they get pit where they’re supposed to go. So during that 3 days, insteed o the heid honcho’s doin their ain due diligence, they delegate it to folk like us. We’re kinda like wee worker bees that serve the Queen, we’re wee dafties that run about finding oot aw the facts about folk then send a recommendation up or doon. We send it tae baith o the bosses and they decide whether tae gon wi the recommendation or no. 9.9 times out of 10, it’s fine and there’s nae issues. You following me?”

I nod. I know all this of course. He taught me all this on day one but he knows that I know, he’s just really enjoying the opportunity to lecture me.

“Sometimes, in exceptional circumstances” – he says with a snooty face making air quotes with his fingers – “they have tae actually meet and decide who gets to take somebdy. That’s rare though. Ah’ve never seen it happen but Fanta Baws ower there has”

He nods his head towards Andrew, a red-headed man sat at a desk with no computer, instead he has a typewriter and a steaming hot mug of tea in front of him. He must have been at least 84 when he died and seems to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. Andrew flicks a broad, weathered middle finger back at Tom and shakes his head. “I’LL FANTA BAWS YOU SON” he barks showing a mild burst of energy before settling back in his chair and closing his eyes.

Tom giggles and looks back at me. “He’s fuckin ancient likes.”

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he continues with his lecture. “If they have to meet and still cannae decide, they baith go and live on earth for an er 3 days and actually speak tae folk that knew the cunt. Once they’ve done that, they come tae a decision the gither wi the case handler – yer gid sell – present. Your case, Mr John-Boy Harkness, is indeed yin o these exceptional cases.”

I’m really confused. First of all, how did I not know about this. And second of all, is he really saying that Up Top and Down Below have met to discuss one of MY cases already? G and S have met as a result of my work. My – potentially shoddy – work?

“Aye” says Tom looking at me, laughing.

Furrowing my brow, I ask him what he means. I realise he’s been watching me take all of this in.

“Am assuming that daft lookin’ face o yours” he says “is thinkin’, does that mean Big Red and Golden Baws have met tae talk aboot ma case. So aye, they hiv and I’d imagine pretty much right now they’re baith getting ready tae head doon – and up – intae the world of your boy Johnny Harkness. Oo’ll hear mare in 3 days. Dinnae stress. They’ll meet the family, pals, aw that. Yince they’re back ye’ll probably need tae gaun and hear their reports and be telt the decision so ye ken what ye missed but that’s aw”

“That’s all, eh” I say. “Shit”