Eternity has a queue. You're the one moving it along.

You're the newest intern at the Bureau of Afterlife Assignment, and the dead are not going to sort themselves. Souls arrive as case files - a name, a cause of death, and a short, frequently incriminating list of life deeds. Read each one, check today's rulebook, and stamp them to their destination before the timer runs out and the queue backs up into something Management would like to "circle back on."

Six stamps. Six fates.

Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and Reincarnate - and, because the Bureau believes in consequences, Customer Service and Middle Management. The last two are not metaphors. They are departments.

The rulebook changes every shift.

It is always reasonable, and it never quite agrees with itself. Politicians go to Hell - unless they were kind to interns. The pious ascend - unless they filed late. By the final act you'll be reconciling six contradictory directives against a ticking clock while the Bureau commends your "flexibility."

Cosmic admin, narrated in HR-speak.

Eternal judgment run like a soul-crushing open-plan office. The Bureau is cheerful, helpful, and quietly monstrous. You will do unspeakable things to strangers' eternities, and you will be thanked for your continued service.

• 75 hand-written souls across a 12-shift campaign in three acts.
  
• An escalating rulebook where every new directive contradicts the last.
  
• A timer that makes it funny, not hard - difficulty comes from the rules, not your reflexes.
  
• Six bureaucratic destinations, each with its own deadpan consequence.
  
• Writing that never breaks character and never lets you feel good about your promotions.

Welcome to the Bureau. Your eternity has been processed. Theirs is up to you.