A Laid Back Office Work Even I am A Zombie

A Laid Back Office Work Even I am A Zombie

Right now, I'm working in the office as usual, but I can't help wondering if it was all a miracle.

Every morning, I get up, put on my collared shirt and beige chinos as usual, and stand in front of the mirror. And I can't forget my contact lenses. My eyesight is fine, but my pupils don't move anymore, so anyone who sees me will realise instantly that I'm a zombie. Embalmer's cosmetics, which stretch even without body heat, are too expensive, so I'll skip the makeup. No one can tell that my skin feels rubbery unless they stare at it closely, so it's fine. Then there's the morning commuter train. If someone pushes me, their body heat seeps into my body. It really gives me a sense of life. I'm supposed to have been 'dead' for a long time, though.

When I get to the office, my project leader encourages me to start typing. During my lunch break, I don't eat anything except the occasional energy drink. Instead, I study hard by reading Natural Language Processing with Python, which I picked up at the bookshop. Then I go home. I'm just about to open my laptop and watch some anime when I fall asleep. It's the same thing every day. Do you think you can work 24 hours a day, 365 days a year without sleep? It's impossible. If a project manager with some weird delusions finds out my true identity, I'll be in big trouble. But I'm glad I can still work to some extent. When I was 'alive', a full-time permanent position that might require overtime was out of reach.

I've been unwell since childhood. It was then that I became interested in what was inside the laptop my dad brought to the hospital, and I devoured books such as 'Why Computers Work' and 'Introduction to JavaScript'. With the help of a drug I developed in high school, I was finally able to live independently, attend university and find a permanent part-time position. However, after a few years, perhaps due to overexertion, I was suddenly hospitalised. My condition rapidly worsened. When I saw my mum break down in tears in the ward, she said "Ayaka..." I felt so sorry.

After spending some time in the incense-scented room, I was greeted by several men and women in suits who ushered me into a van. They were funeral home staff. I was taken out of the car and placed in a refrigerator. The next day, I was taken out and placed on a stretcher, then carried to a work table in a room resembling a chemistry lab. Songs by my favourite voice actress, Ikura Konoha, played in the background. Then I met the embalmer. She said,

'Nice to meet you. It might hurt a little, but please bear with it.'

She then closed my eyelids and gently massaged my face to relax my features. However, my eyelids were slightly open, so I could see what was going on around me. She connected my veins to the pump. Afterwards, I felt pressure as if something was being pushed into my body. While doing so, she gently massaged my limbs, which felt great. Next, she sucked out any excess material from my side and transferred the base of the pump to a bottle containing clear chemicals several times, pushing the contents into me each time. At the time, I was still 'dead', so I couldn't make a sound, but I could feel a sharp pain. Then they dressed me in the light blue shirt and navy trousers that my mum had brought, applied some careful make-up and lowered me into the coffin. I sat up just before they took me out into the hall, so I wasn't in suspended animation. If I ever get the chance, I'd like to thank the embalmer for what they did that day. They played my favourite CD on the stereo system there. Once it was all over, I was back to living alone. My apartment is just one train ride from work and the rent is expensive, but I don't eat out much, so I have a decent amount left over. And just between you and me, I plan to go to her concert someday.

Well, I'm not exactly known for being sociable. I've declined wedding invitations, citing work deadlines and other excuses, and I've turned down invitations to drinking parties. Of course, the real reason is that I can't eat or drink anything. However, I'll be accompanying them to the funeral, which will cause some problems. Since I can't cry anymore, I rub my eyes and pretend to cry. But that's not a big deal. Something similar happened once before. A while ago, a friend who knew I was a zombie begged me to do something about her friend's husband, who had died in an accident, pleading with God and looking terrified. At the time, I felt like pretending to be ill or something and running away. She said that she thought the corpse might come back to life if she put its head in the coffin, but that's just not possible. We're not in a movie. I'm not even sure if the reason I 'came back to life' was a coincidence or sheer willpower. However, there's a certain probability that a corpse will "come back to life", so it's true that there are quite a few zombies around town.

Today was another routine day at work on a certain project, but I'm doing my best to save up for a live tour that I might go on if I win the lottery someday.