“What? What is it?” Handy asked, once he got his breathing under control and steadied himself. It was one thing to get the dreaded orange H and have to walk his way back to the other end of the hall and walk into that good light and whatever mystery lay beyond. It was quite another to have discovered, rather forcibly, if he could actually die in this disquieting hall of judgement and then really have a lesson in existential dread forced upon him to compound his misfortune.