“You wanted to see me, Bob?”

“Yes, Ernie, come on in.” Bob gestured to a chair opposite him, while Bob stumbled over to it, dragging his gimpy leg behind him and moaning.

“What can I do for you and HR?” Ernie said, a friendly expression on his pallid face. The one eye that still worked regarded Bob brightly, while the other stared cloudily at the wall.

“Well, Ernie, the fact of the matter is, we were hoping that you would take a compensation package and retire.”

“Never!” said Ernie, shocked. “Bob, this work is my life.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, I figured you thought that after you died at your desk and then arose the next morning to clock in as usual,” Bob said. “But listen, Ernie, it’s time to go. A living employee would be cheaper for us, work less overtime, move faster, and would attract fewer scavengers.”

Ernie glanced at the raccoon gnawing on his gimped leg. “This is starting to sound awfully ageist, Bob, I gotta say.”

“Well, I hate that you feel that way, Ernie, but Legal has assured me that, as the living dead, you have no rights to speak of and that we can fire you with no repercussions if you decline to retire.”

“Decline to quit, you mean,” Ernie said. “Look, Bob, I also don’t take any breaks and I’m the only one who knows the old accounting system code that we need for legacy support.”

“Oh, we’re well aware of that, Ernie,” Bob said. “In fact, we’ll increase your buyout by 50% if you agree to train Neussbaum on the system.”

“And what would 50% more money do for me?” laughed Ernie, his voice creaking eerily. “Especially if it makes me lose the only thing that is animating this tattered form?”

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