The grave didn't stay shut. Not when the balance was red.
Solar stood in the rain of Sector 0. It wasn't water; it was a black, oily sludge that tasted of iron and old pennies. He was looking at a fresh mound of dirt. Unmarked. Raw. The mud was breathing—SQUELCH. SQUELCH.—as the weight of the city pressed down on the dead. Behind him, the steam-shovels were waiting. Their metal claws looked like prehistoric birds, hungry for the bones underneath.
"The certificate, Elias. The one from the coroner. Give it to me."
Elias was shaking so hard the papers were rattling in his hand. RATTLE. RATTLE. He looked like a man who had seen his own ghost. "Sir, it's a cemetery. Even the High Court has rules about... about disturbing the peace. People are saying you're digging up their ancestors to pay for the new refinery."
Solar laughed. A dry, jagged sound. Like a saw cutting through wet wood. GRATE. GRATE. "Peace? Peace is a luxury for those who died with a zero balance, Elias. This man—Miller—thought his heart failure was a legal loophole. He thought once the blood stopped, the interest stopped. He was wrong. His contract has a 'Post-Mortem Continuity Clause'. The debt lives as long as the DNA does."
CLANG.
The shovel hit something hard. Wood. Cheap, rotting pine. Solar didn't move. He didn't blink. He just adjusted his cufflinks—human bone. Cold. Hard. He looked at the hole in the ground. A dark, hungry mouth.
"Audit the remains, Elias!" Solar hissed. His voice was a cold rasp that cut through the thunder. "I want the gold fillings. I want the silk shroud. I want the pacemaker. Every gram of metal is an asset. Every scrap of fabric is collateral. If he's hiding in the dirt, I'll sift through every handful of it until the ledger balances."
CRACK.
The coffin lid split open. The sound was like a scream in the dark. A puff of stale, ancient air escaped—the smell of dust and dry rot. Solar leaned over the edge. He could see the flash of a gold tooth in the emergency lights.
"Going once!" Solar whispered to the corpse. "Going twice!"
"You're a ghoul, Solar!" a voice roared from the shadows of the tombstones. The Shadow. He was there. Always there. His silver mask was smeared with the black rain. "Even the dead deserve a rest! You're turning the afterlife into a marketplace!"
Solar smiled. A jagged line of white in the gloom. HA. HA. HA. "The afterlife is just a tax-haven for cowards, ghost! You think death is a wall? No. It's a door. And I'm the one with the key. You want him to rest? Pay his final notice. 40,000 credits. Plus the 'Exhumation Fee'. Plus the 'Atmospheric Contamination Tax'. Otherwise? Get out of the way. I'm about to liquidate his jawbone."
He turned to the workers. Their faces were hidden behind gas masks. They looked like insects. HISS. HISS. "Strip the teeth. Melt the watch. I want the total by dawn. And Elias? If the family comes to complain, tell them their grief is 'Non-Deductible'. And charge them for the mud on my boots."
THUD.
A heavy stone fell into the grave. Solar didn't feel the weight. He didn't feel the sacrilege. He just felt the math.
"The audit is moving to the bone, ghost!" Solar roared toward the tombstones. "Everything is an asset. Even the dust we become. I'll audit your shadow next. I'll find the price for your silence."
He turned his back on the open grave. He walked to the transport. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel the rot. He just felt the cold, hard weight of the gold teeth in his pocket. CLINK. CLINK.
"Elias!" he barked as the door slammed shut.
"Yes, sir?"
"The cemetery. It's wasted space. Level it. Build the new Solar Warehouse over the graves. We can use the headstones as foundation. It'll save us 15% on construction costs. And tell the families they can visit their relatives in the loading bay. For a fee."
Solar poured a glass of water. GLUG. GLUG. He drank it slowly. The interest never sleeps. And tonight? Even the dead were going to pay.
The grave was open. And Solar was the only one with the bill.