Somewhere there were snatches of muffled conversation and the shuffle of bodies, but Eurydice could not sense them. She was floating, suspended in a comfortable darkness, until suddenly she wasn't. Rough hands opened her prison, and Eurydice stumbled out of the body bag like a newborn fawn, her legs wobbly and her eyes unseeing. She barely had time to orient herself when she heard a familiar voice.
"Eurydice, are you there?" Orpheus asked, and she had to catch herself on the sterile grey walls to avoid falling over.
"I'm here," she said, though Eurydice wasn't entirely sure what or where 'here' meant. Awareness came in stages as her voice wobbled, the lights were harsh enough to squint at, and even breathing was difficult at first. Seeing Orpheus helped, though Eurydice nearly stumbled again when he gestured for her to follow him with a "Let's go." She had a few precious seconds to catch her breath before the door in front of them was opened, and a cameraman moved in front to film the couple. Orpheus paid him no mind and set his eyes forward, and Eurydice moved to follow.
From somewhere behind them came a sneering "See you soon," and the slam of a door, but when Eurydice chanced a look back, all she saw was darkness. Orpheus's eyes remained fixed ahead, and she hurried to catch up as her husband continued without hesitation.
Progress was slow as they waded through hallways of shredded paper, fresh from the River Styx's mind-processing department, but Orpheus seemed determined to make it through, and Eurydice trusted him. Every so often he'd flinch and almost look back at her before turning his eyes ahead to the hallways and doors beyond, and she wondered what was going on. The last thing she remembered was the wedding, but even that was lost in a haze—memories of the Lyre-Axe guitar, whirling in a dance, and a weapon being trained on her were all jumbled together like a puzzle with missing pieces.
Finally, a door opened to something different than endless grey, and Eurydice held back a gasp at the smell of crisp night air, lonely street lamps flickering to light the way, and the guests gathered at her wedding standing outside. They huddled like they'd been waiting for hours. They seemed equally shocked to see Orpheus, and Eurydice eagerly watched as he exited into open air. She was just paces behind, close enough to recognize Razoreus, Scratch, and Linus among the crowd of guests.
Then Scratch saw her and gasped.
"Eurydice," she cried, and on reflex, Orpheus turned and met Eurydice's eyes.
In an instant, the underworld door slammed in Eurydice's face, inches from Orpheus and the Grey Zone and its troubled, but vibrant, life. She didn't have time to reach for him or say goodbye, and Eurydice watched as the door to the outside world melted away before her eyes and congealed into a solid wall. She tried the doorknob anyway, to no result.
As the videographer captured the disappointment on her face and the EBN producer snidely told her that the show was over, Eurydice felt like the punchline to a joke that she'd missed out on.
"What happened," Eurydice asked.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," the producer sneered as he took her by the shoulder, making her turn around. The man's eyes were leery, and Eurydice flinched away at his obvious affection for her, turning once more to the closed door.
"It won't open," the producer said, dashing her hopes. "For that you'd have to be alive."
Oh, Eurydice thought. If that way was to life, then she must be dead. Tears sprang to her eyes and she furiously wiped at them, backing into a wall but keeping her eyes on the producer at all times. Thankfully, it wasn't long before Queen Persephone strode down the hallway, assessing the situation at a glance.
"I'll take it from here," Persephone interjected, her cheerful smile offset by her steely eyes as she herded the producer away by his shoulders. She turned to Eurydice, smile still on her face. "Come with me and we'll get you set up; your dressing room is already prepared."
"Do I have a choice," Eurydice asked as they began to walk, and Persephone's grin grew wider.
"You do not. But cheer up—it's not every day a mortal is chosen as the rising star of the EBN, let alone unanimously. We expect great things from you."
They came to a metal door that looked the same as every door they'd passed beforehand, but this one Persephone paused at and opened. Inside was a compact dressing room with a vanity, scattered makeup supplies, a chair, a closet, and not much else.
"You'll have to excuse the mess," Persephone explained, "as you've only just arrived. The more you prove your worth, which shouldn't be too difficult, the more amenities you'll have."
The sterile, lifeless room was such a contrast to Orpheus's backstage dressing room, with its smell of cheap beer, hazy smoke and sweat, and the ever-present sound of music, that Eurydice couldn't help but laugh. "You really spared no expense, huh?"
"My husband may be God of Wealth, but he's frugal when he needs to be," the queen grinned. "But if your dancing when you were alive was any indication, you'll have nothing to worry about. The Euthanasia Broadcast Network brings good things to death, spends eternal hours sedating the living, and is always on the hunt for fresh talent—and we all agreed that you, young woman, have what it takes to bring EBN to new broadcasting heights."
"Glad I could be of service," Eurydice grumped. "What does your network need me so badly for?"
"To dance, of course," Persephone said with an easy twirl that fanned out her dress. "It may not be the kind you're used to, but you'll adjust with practice. But before you begin," she continued, "you have a choice to make. Would you rather be shredded, or not?"
Eurydice raised an eyebrow at the strange term; she knew skateboard shredding and guitar shredding, but she'd seen only one kind of shredding down here so far. "Shredded? Like…all that paper we walked through?"
Persephone nodded. "Souls that are processed through the Styx normally have their memories shredded in preparation for rebirth—though there are exceptions, like the shades that run the machines, and souls on track to retirement in Elysium. Since you were singled out as an exceptional talent, we thought it best to offer some charity."
The queen's smile was offset by her eyes, which pierced through Eurydice. "Memory or not, your talent would remain. Consider it carefully."
Eurydice didn't even have to think about it. "No thanks," she said immediately. "If I'm stuck here forever I'd rather keep my memories."
"Are you sure," Persephone asked seriously. "Remembering around here tends to make it worse, especially given your circumstances. You'd remember that musician of yours, and how we gave him a chance and he failed."
Eurydice didn't know the specifics of the challenge they'd given Orpheus, but it didn't matter. She wanted to remember her life, good and bad, and he was one of the brightest spots in her memory. She'd had to fend for herself early on, making her way through the Grey Zone on her wits and the lightness of her feet. It was at one of her shows and one of his concerts that she'd met Orpheus, and while it had taken a little time to get used to his hard-rock style, by the time of the wedding they were close enough that Eurydice could safely tease him about his music, knowing she'd wear her feet out no matter how hard and fast he played.
When Eurydice closed her eyes she could almost feel Orpheus's warm embrace on rough bedsheets, their two hearts beating as one as they drew ever closer. She could almost hear the pounding drums, throbbing bass, and shredding guitars of the band as his deep, earthy vocals filled the concert halls. Her feet twitched with the urge to dance, and for a moment, she found herself lost in recollection.
Then the moment passed, and she turned to face Persephone. "I'm sure."
The queen shrugged and didn't meet her eyes. "Very well. Now that you're settled in, we'll see you on set in an hour from now. You'll find a change of clothes in your closet, and begin practice with the Fiberglass Ensemble before moving on to projects worthy of your time."
As she turned to go, Persephone gave Eurydice a final look. "Don't disappoint us."
Eurydice waited until the door shut before allowing herself to cry.
An hour later, Eurydice stood stoically on the EBN soundstage and waited for her cue, watching as Persephone and Hades sat on their thrones and appraised the current batch of performers. She was dressed in a pastel ballet outfit with mixed pink, blue, and purple fabric, with a sparkling silver bodice and matching train. It was luxury she'd never glimpsed in her time alive, but Eurydice couldn't enjoy it, mainly due to the 'music' Hades had on-air.
The Fiberglass Ensemble, she'd learned to her chagrin, was a four-person group of shades whose singing gave her a pounding headache and lent itself to no rhythm. But Hades appreciated how dull they were and expected Eurydice to do likewise, so she forced herself to applaud as their atonal chorus reached its end. Hades and Persephone's applause was much more enthusiastic, and she hoped they didn't notice she was phoning it in.
"One more round," the lead singer asked as he refreshed himself with a glass of sparkling Lethe water, and Eurydice shook her head furiously. But to her dismay, Persephone and Hades both nodded, the latter gesturing for the dancer to come closer.
"Consider this a talent assessment, Eurydice," Hades crooned, his eyes piercing through her. "If you can dance to the Fiberglass Ensemble, I'd wager you could dance to anything." As her husband spoke, Persephone gave Eurydice such a slow nod that she couldn't tell if it was encouragement or a threat.
With no other choice, Eurydice stepped forward and tried not to wince as the Fiberglass Ensemble began to sing. Initially shocked and standing still, she tried desperately to find any sort of rhythm or beat to dance to, but it was pointless as the tempo and what could vaguely be called a melody sped up and slowed at random. In the end, Eurydice's best was a series of stunted, jerky arm motions, a few steps forward mixed with half-hearted twirls, and a sour wince that she tried to hide by deliberately whipping her curly hair in her face. She wasn't sure if it worked, and expected the worst by the time they were finished.
Hades and Persephone looked at the producer, looked at Eurydice, and gave thunderous applause, and the studio audience of shades whooped and cheered. Eurydice wondered if they were applauding her dancing or that the Fiberglass Ensemble had stopped, but the EBN producer's enraptured face suggested he, at least, would be impressed no matter what she did.
"Wonderful," Hades said with a smile that showed his teeth. "Now the real work can begin."
"I'll get her set up for filming," the producer began with a check to the cameras.
"Not yet," Persephone said, beckoning to the producer, who looked up with a start. "Her hair was in her eyes and bounced as she danced. That's far too lively for our sedation work," she added with a glare.
Hades joined his wife in staring the other man down. "If I'm not mistaken, costuming is your purview. Go and fetch our star something to keep her tangled hair peaceful like the dead."
Chastised, the producer made an awkward bow and left, returning with a silver tiara and a hair net. Eurydice pretended not to mind as her hair bunched up and tangled against the gaudy crown in spite of the net. She wondered if she looked as dead as Hades and Persephone hoped, and wished more than anything to be back in her dressing room, away from the crowd and the lights. Dreams of Orpheus, she knew, were as unlikely as retiring to Elysium.
When Hades and Persephone were satisfied and commercial breaks were over, the stage crew gestured for filming to begin. Hades approached Eurydice and took her by the hand, standing tall for the cameras.
"Our next performance," the God of the Dead proclaimed, "is the first of what EBN hopes to be a watershed moment in our programming. You may have glimpsed her briefly when Orpheus played 'Don't Look Back' on PTR, but now Eurydice is ready to step into the spotlight herself. A round of applause for our rising star!"
The studio audience applauded and cheered, and Hades turned to Eurydice with a smile. He offered a hand. She took it, then leaned in closer.
"Now what," Eurydice whispered.
"Now," Hades returned smoothly, "we dance."
Persephone had said she wouldn't be shredded, but Eurydice doubted it was true—her memories seemed to grow fuzzier and fuzzier the more she existed in the Underworld. While part of her knew it was the natural progression of things, especially with no way to connect with the Grey Zone that wasn't through a camera lens, a deeper part of Eurydice was furious at herself for forgetting. It didn't help that Persephone had been gone for what she'd been told was a six-month summer vacation. The unfairness rankled Eurydice. The Queen of the Underworld got to go back to the Grey Zone, relax and do whatever she wanted, but for the shades, it was little else but work and sleep.
Somewhere in her foggy memory, Eurydice recalled a conversation she'd had with Orpheus about what death was like. She couldn't remember what had brought it on, but after some speculation, Orpheus had decided they were probably better off not knowing. With the endless grey hallways, the tedium of waiting in her dressing room, and the anxiety of never quite knowing what to expect when the door opened, she had to agree. When she wasn't anxious, she was bored, and when she wasn't bored, she was bitter and tired.
But the loneliness hurt the most. There wasn't much room for conversation in what Eurydice had come to call Asphodel, since the Grey Zone was taken by the world she'd left behind. Shades wandered the hallways without pause, eyes as grey as their surroundings, until they were called away and quickly replaced. On the occasion someone saw her it was to either sing her praises mindlessly or parrot what Hades or Persephone commanded. And if the sleazy producer saw her, Eurydice knew she was in for another round of dodging his unwanted affections. Thankfully, she'd gotten good at it, especially when she'd done well enough to earn herself some perks.
The small television she'd been given, along with pomegranate bonsai for her dressing table, helped alleviate some of Eurydice's boredom and ward off any potential visitors. True, the trees never actually blossomed, but they at least looked lively, while the TV showed the EBN's most popular programs, including her own dancing. It gave her a better idea of what the producers and the audience would want of her; Eurydice knew what mattered most to the EBN were consistent ratings, not just record-breakers.
At that she felt a burst of anger again, this time at her own acquiescence to the situation. One of Orpheus's harder rock songs had been about people who drifted through life like empty shells, or the living dead—they never lost control or let themselves go, never took any sort of risk because the thought made them squirm. The Grey Zoners lived by the opposite of that philosophy, risking themselves in living to the fullest every day, and the cautionary tale had reverberated around the concert hall.
Eurydice had dim memories of dancing to that song as fast and as freely as she liked. She matched the rhythm and strayed off the beat when needed, and went where the music took her. She remembered her feet were worn-out and tired from dancing so hard, and the feel of Orpheus's lips on hers soothing the hurt. But at the EBN her feet never hurt how much she danced, the music was the perfect mix of soporific and soothing, and the less said about the Fiberglass Ensemble's attempt at singing, the better.
The more she thought about the situation, the more unfair it became—and then a plan came to mind, and Eurydice couldn't stop herself from smiling.
She was dead, but now she would find things to live for.
The next time she was called to the soundstage, Eurydice took a deep breath and readied her plan.
If the EBN wanted mind-numbing comfort programming to lull viewers into its web, she'd give them too much of what they wanted; there'd be no more cozying up to Hades as they waltzed, and she'd make her movements as stiff and dull as possible to match her tied-up hair. There'd be no pretend passion on-set for Hades, Persephone, or anyone else she danced with.
If a Grey Zoner was watching and they didn't see too much, maybe she could even help them break away from the network—or at least find the presence of mind to shut it off. And on the occasion Eurydice glanced at the cameras, broadcasting to the outside world, her eyes would tell the real story—the sorrow, pain, and hope that could only be found in the windows to the soul.
And it all went well, or well enough, until Persephone returned from vacation one fall day. Dressed in the latest jewels and finery, the Underworld queen stood with the EBN producer backstage and watched Eurydice's latest dance with Hades, broadcasting live.
She frowned. It seemed that after days of learning the ropes and a year of meeting expectations, the rising star of the network was…lacking, and Hades had to make up for it.
"We're just not getting the performance we need from this woman," Persephone sighed, and the producer was quick to agree.
She thought about what she had seen and heard on her most recent visit to the Grey Zone. Orpheus was world famous and dead to the world all at once, skateboarding recklessly and without care for himself before hiding away in his room for hours on end, and those were his good days. The musician was coming apart at the seams, and the dancer clearly needed a push to do her best, whether an incentive or a threat.
Then Persephone smiled; it could easily be both. An idea had come to mind, and with it they could kill two birds with one stone, then reunite them at last. She turned to the producer, eyes shining with glee.
"I think we have to get that musician back."