“Our neighbors have abandoned us; they’ve changed their tax policies to attract the best and the brightest. Meanwhile, all we’re left with are hardworking devils, lazy demons, and slightly pompous angels who’ve decided they want to live in this great country without contributing anything to it. It isn’t enough.”
“Those angels are arrogant!” a man suddenly yelled out in the crowd.
“They think they’re better than us!” a woman yelled.
“I don’t know about that,” Judah said reassuringly. “I’m sure there are some very fine people on both sides.”
“Send them back!” a voice yelled.
“Send them back!” another dozen voices yelled. And suddenly, the bewildered Judah was drowned out by chanting voices. “Send them back! Send them back!”
What the hell is going on? the wide-eyed Yama thought. This was supposed to be a campaign rally, not a gathering for spirit supremacists. He wondered if he should do anything, but then he decided that forcefully reincarnating the lot would be counterproductive to his efforts to gather votes.
Then, his eyes narrowed when he saw Judah’s response. The man pumped his fist almost encouragingly and did nothing to stop them. The chanting lasted far too long before Yama, fed up with the spectacle, coughed lightly in intimidation. The crowd quieted instantly.
“Right,” Judah said awkwardly. “That was… unexpected. Like I said, we don’t have a lot of spare spirits in Diyu, and it’s important to draw people in. Not everyone, mind you—only the best and the brightest.”
“No angels!” a man said.
Yama didn’t wait this time. He snapped his finger, and the soul was whisked away to a special hell he reserved for pedophiles and people who talked in movie theaters. That would teach him.
“That’s why it’s important that you come out and vote,” Judah continued. “Vote for the Diyu Advantage so we can bring the best and the brightest to this city. Together, we can prosper. Together, we can win.”
The remainder of the rally was uneventful. The few scattered voices that tried to egg on the crowd were forcibly detained, and the mayoral candidate got down to business. He talked about fiscal responsibility, taxes, and recognition of professional accreditations. He talked about legal immigration, and for some strange reason, a wall to prevent illegal immigration. Finally, he mentioned destroying some unpopular art, the proposed ban on time travel literature—which, to Yama’s surprise, the time goddess approved of—and finally, a message to make Diyu great again. Like it wasn’t already.
The crowd dispersed, and soon they were back in Yama’s office. The spirit that used to be a mere mortal trembled slightly as Yama curled his lips in disapproval.
“Do you know why we’re having this meeting?” he asked, tapping his bony fingers on the desk. Fortunately for the object, it was an empyrean god-grade artifact. It could handle the abuse.
The short man gulped. “It’s about the wall, isn’t it? Yes, I know it’s inhumane, but we really need to make sure everything is legitimate. And as much as it isn’t practical, there’s a certain amount of symbolism—”
Yama cut him off. “No. Great circle of reincarnation, no. I’ve been arguing that we need a wall for decades. I want as many immigrants as possible, but only legally, which isn’t rocket science as long as you hire a few government employees to file the paperwork.” He sighed. “No, I called you here because I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed in your behavior. You should have condemned those bigots. Instead, you almost egged them on.”
“That’s not true,” Judah said. “I wasn’t happy with it. I disagreed with it. And I didn’t say that. They did. I started speaking very quickly.”
“Thirteen seconds,” Yama said sharply. “You waited thirteen seconds. Do you know what people can do in thirteen seconds?” Seeing that Judah was speechless, he picked up Han Yu’s tablet, which conveniently listed off many things mortals on Earth, Judah’s home planet, could do in thirteen seconds. “An earth mortal can run 100 meters in thirteen seconds on Earth. He can buy something online in thirteen seconds. He can down a pint of beer, solve a Rubik’s cube, or can break into someone’s home in thirteen seconds. Hell, he can probably peel and eat a mandarin orange in that time. And you’re going to tell me you started speaking very quickly?”
“Point taken,” Judah said. “I’ll cut in faster next time.”
“It’s too late for a next time!” Yama said. “Thirteen seconds is all it takes to form a first impression. Now we need to run damage control.” He breathed deeply and controlled his emotions. “Now we need to deal with the media. Those politically correct news anchors will tear you to shreds. We need to demonize them and tell everyone their news is fake. Or we could just reincarnate anyone who dares publish any bad articles.”
“That sounds a bit harsh,” Judah said. “Can’t we just do some serious backpedalling and apologize like reasonable people?”
Yama paused. “What does apologize mean?”
“Are you serious?” Judah said.
Yama nodded.
“It’s when you’re, you know, wrong. And then you admit that to everyone.”
“But I’ve never been wrong in my life,” Yama said. Which was true. Every time someone had told him otherwise, he’d obliterated them from the face of the universe, which, as far as he was concerned, cut at the root of the problem.
“Right…” Judah said. “Which is why you have me. I was wrong, and I can do the apologizing. I’ll save some face, and you won’t have to do anything drastic. Make sense?”
“Somewhat,” Yama said. “I may need convincing. Just do what it is you do, but don’t hesitate to tell me if I should annihilate someone. Do we have a deal?”
“Sure thing,” Judah said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I’ll be going now.” The short man walked out of his office, looking back nervously before closing the door.
“Mortals,” Yama muttered in bemusement.
Han Yu came in moments later, ushering in his next
