Hodge looked at the large office. There were people streaming in and out of the building. In almost no time at all, he was looking at one of the manager’s rooms. The windows were clear, as there was no need for privacy. There was someone speaking amongst the cacophony of sound. Someone said his name very clearly.

“James Hodge!” Hodge perked up.

“Here!” he said. The lady who was announcing the names motioned him to follow her. He rushed behind the lady. “So, what’s going to happen once I get in the manager’s office?” She stared at Hodge, and said,

“Your manager will give you a paper to fill out. He gives you a nametag, and you go into the graveyard. Be fast.” With almost no time to think, Hodge was pushed into a room. It looked much better than the facility hosting the room, which was echoey and small, like an auditorium. Everything was cramped and stuffy, except the manager sitting behind the desk. He looked over at Hodge, with an uncaring and bored gaze.

“Name?”

“Uh, James Clifford Hodge. Sir.” He added the sir at the end, just in case. The manager, still looking tired and bored, handed him a small slip of paper and a pen.

“Fill out. Quick.” Name? That was easy. Date? April 23rd, 2051. Previous service in war? There were two options; James picked ‘no.’ Average hours planning to spend on Graveyard Shift? Hodge did not like that phrase. ‘Graveyard Shift.’ His parents told him it meant the worst hours of a job in the Old Days, up until 2026. When President Branski was elected. President Joel Branski was the commander-in-chief for twenty-five years. He was recently reelected for another four years. Branski’s reign of presidency started when President Allen Smith was assassinated. Being the vice president, Branski stepped in. He helped stop the Great Oil Crisis not only in America, but in several different countries. He had paid off the entirety of national debt, and decreased corruption among senators. Needless to say, he was an extremely popular president. One of his first acts of as a politician was his Graveyard Shift campaign. It received controversy at first, and wasn’t passed his entire term as governor of Los Angeles. Later, when he became president and overpopulation was increasing tremendously, he issued the Graveyard Shift campaign once more.

The Graveyard Shift was a program in which the government issued payment to anyone willing to stay inside a graveyard for some hours. They would be paid according to how many hours they spent at the graveyard. Each manager handled the pay and recorded the hours one spent at the graveyard. He or she would also control the worker flow of the graveyard, but it was a purely secondary position. There was always more than enough tombstones for everyone. Occasionally, they would get people who were at the graveyard to mourn. The managers would lead them to the direct entrance, where everyone who wasn’t there for the shift would go through. The assistant managers went through the direct entrance, their purpose to settle disputes and make sure every shifter was spending their time in the graveyard instead of leaving and collecting pay when it suited them. The pay was not high; the law even had to make a special minimum wage standard for the shifters. The assistant managers distributed what little pay per hour the shifters got. Basically, the Graveyard Shift was for people without real jobs so they could afford warmer clothing and more nutritious food.

Hodge, who was in between jobs, did the Graveyard Shift for the first time in his life. He had never went to college, instead opting to be an undertaker. Ironic. It was a stable job, but it didn’t pay all the bills. He worked part-time as a handyman, but it still wasn’t enough. Finally, he lost his job as an undertaker when budget cuts were made to accommodate the Graveyard Shift. The irony was simply oozing out of every pore.

The manager jerked his finger to the door, and Hodge went through it. He already knew the procedure, having read it on the many notification boards. He would walk in, find a tombstone, and so long as he stayed in the graveyard, he would get paid every hour he stayed. He could bring anything he wanted, talked to any person, so long as he stayed inside the graveyard. Simple enough, and more convenient than walking to the welfare office. Plus, it made you feel like you earned your cash instead of mooching from the government. Branski described it as ‘a combination of respect of life and respect of death.’ It still received controversy, but by the time it got to Congress, Branski was so popular that the program was passed with minimal difficulties.

Hodge was looking for a nice tombstone to sit on. He finally found one, a large, flat coffin shaped stone engraved with, ‘Here lies Jordan Lenning, a devoted husband and father, friend to many and enemy to few.’ Underneath the writing, it said, ‘February 5th, 1970 to January 21st, 2049.’ Almost eighty years old. Didn’t even make it to his next birthday. Hodge sat down on the grave. Lenning was a good man in life, and so he’ll be in death.

A thick, bulky man approached Lemming’s grave. He had by his side a portly African-American, and a twig-like bearded man. They stopped by Hodge, and the bulky man grunted,

“Yo, dawg, ya sittin’ in my gravestone.” His cronies chortled cruelly. They nodded their heads in agreement. “Get out, or things a’gonna get hairy.” The gang of oafs chuckled dumbly.

“The only thing hairy here is you,” Hodge smartly replied. The three men fell silent, not knowing what to do. The bulky man, apparently their leader, shoved Hodge.

“Ain’t gonna be a second warnin’,” the brute threatened. He shoved Hodge again, this time more forcefully. There was anger in his voice. Hodge sighed. He didn’t want to attract the assistant managers on his first day. Maybe there was someway he could worm out of this fight. He was particularly good at that when he was in high school.

“Can’t we just share the stone?” Hodge pleaded. “There’s more than enough space. We can all sit here.” The gang of three just stood there, grinning cruely.

“Aint nobody sittin’ in our seat, Rosa Parks,” the chubby dark man said. Hodge was just about to get up and submit to the gang of brutes, but realized if he did so, he would just encourage their actions.

“I’m not moving for you ogres. Find another grave,” Hodge said stubbornly. The leader huffed angrily. He grabbed Hodge’s lapel and tugged him roughly to his face. Was this really worth it? There must have been a thousand or more suitable tombs for Hodge to sit on, and he decided to pick the one with the biggest bullies in the graveyard. Nice going, he thought to himself. An assistant manager started to stride over. Great. Your first day of feeding off the government, and you squander it. Perfect.

The assistant manager came over, and shoved the big man off of Hodge.

“Hey, what’s going on here people?” he turned to the man who grappled Hodge. “What’s your name, big boy?” The muscular man was certainly big and stupid, but had enough sense to respect the assistant manager’s authority.

“Name’s Ozzie,” he said cockily, “just laying the law of the land to this punk.” Then, the manager faced Hodge.
“What were you doing here, pipsqueak?” he asked Hodge.

“J- just settling in to the graveyard, sir,” Hodge replied. “These kind folks, uhhh...” Now that Hodge had a chance to think about it, fighting over a seat seemed extremely childish. Not even when he was grabbed by Ozzie did it come to him it would’ve been that easy to lay off. “...roughed me up as I was sitting on that very graveyard.” That sounded much more mature than, ‘they beat me up because I accidentally stole their seat.’ No matter how you put it, it still sounded like a problem a third-grade teacher dealt with. The manager looked at Ozzie and his friends.
“That true, sonny? ‘Cuz I recall the other managers talkin’ about how Ozzie an’ his boys ‘laid the law of their land’ to everybody else nearby.” The manager eyed Ozzie’s crew, daring them to challenge him. “That true?” To Ozzie’s eternal dismay, his scrawny goon boasted,
“Whatever, man, us ‘n’ Ozzie s’gonna rip you a new one, nosy boy!” The manager had a target now. When he was done with him, there wouldn’t enough of him left to chew.

“Now, nobody like no smack-talk, and nobody like a beating neither. Fortunately for you fools, I’m in a good mood. Unfortunately, this is still my graveyard shift. Now git outta my face, ‘fore I do somethin’ nasty to yours.” Taking the hint, Ozzie and Co. fled from Hodge and his savior.

After the whole ordeal, Hodge grasped the assistant manager’s leathery hand and shook it vigorously. The assistant manager looked surprised, but accepted the handshake.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down man,” the manager said. “No need to thank me, it’s just my job.” Hodge stopped shaking his hand.
“You saved my sorry hide, and I don’t even know your name,” Hodge said sheepishly. The assistant manager still looked shocked, but replied to Hodge,

“Name’s Leroy Lebrahnson. I’m from Kentucky.”

“James Hodge. Came from New Washington, D.C. Now I’m here to earn a bit of cash, maybe see some family.” New Washington was built on the ashes of the old U.S. capitol after it was partially nuked during the Great Oil Crisis. China had bought several nuclear weapons from North Korea after their first successful test launch. Luckily, President Branski was on a diplomatic mission with Russia. The Vice President and the First Lady, along with the majority of Branski’s Cabinet, were killed in the wreckage. He resolved to end the Oil War after hearing of his wife’s death, and worked out a treaty with several of the Asian countries at war with America.

“Hmm. Have some family up here in New York?” Hodge hesitated for a moment.

“Yes. My parents live nearby, and my sister is getting a diploma in NYU.” It was a lie. Hodge was an only child, and his father had died during the Oil War. His mother, a widow, moved to Trenton and remarried to a white-collar business man.

“I grew up in Kentucky. Moved to New York and I worked as a cop. I got discharged ‘cuz I was brutal to the convicts. Now I’m working as an assistant manager on the Graveyard Shift,” he shrugged. “Beats havin’ to actually work here.” He realized Hodge was right next to him. “No offense ‘r anything.”

“None taken,” Hodge replied dismally. “This job is the pits. I could’ve moved in with my mom in Trenton, but I felt like I needed to earn my own wage.” He had moved to New York along with the millions of immigrants during the Second Great Migration. The majority were victims of war, whose homes and businesses were demolished in several air balloon bombings. New York, despite being the most populated city in the U.S. by far, was mainly untouched. The Armed Forces made sure to guard it well because of that, and only isolated incidents occurred. The population swelled by the millions in barely two months. It was part of the reason Branski made his second attempt on the Graveyard Shift program. It was a brilliant way for the U.S. government to redistribute its excess wealth. Because China’s diminished military was slaughtered against the powerful American army, the national debt was forgiven and the U.S. had more spending power. In turn, China had to borrow money from America in order to restore destroyed buildings. With the American’s taking the least casualties in the Oil War, they could easily give money to several war-torn countries. North Korea was almost completely obliterated, and needed a heavy amount of money. Branski refused them funds, and let the nation grow further worse. It was a perfect example of Branski’s strict demeanor, letting the world know that there would be consequences for spitting in America’s face.

“Well, Mr. Hodge, it was certainly nice talking to you. Maybe you could come over and spend Sunday evening at my place. My wife’s making a barbeque, and I promised her I’d bring over a guest.”

“Really? Well, then, I would be honored to come over,” Hodge said, trying to hide his delight from his voice. He had nothing planned for food over the weekend, and what little he had would barely suffice for the rest of his week. Lebrahnson nodded.

“My wife’s a franchise owner of two Starbucks Cafes. Careful, she’ll chat your ear off about safety regulations and rude customers.” Hodge and Leroy shared a light-hearted chuckle. “Well, gotta get back to my shift. My boss is gonna be furious if I stay too long in one place.”
“Wouldn’t want that to happen. See you at Sunday, then.” Leroy gave a light smile, and walked away. Hodge breathed deeply. His day could’ve been worse. He was very proud of his new friendship with Leroy. For a moment, Hodge believed life was good.