Arthur Pringle died as he lived: pointing out a typo in a spreadsheet. He expected a tunnel of light; he got a flickering fluorescent hallway that smelled of industrial floor wax and damp wool. Welcome to the Afterlife, a sprawling, infinite office park where hope goes to be filed chronologically. Here, your "unfinished business" isn't a metaphor-it's literal, indestructible luggage. And if your suitcase is too heavy with secrets, regrets, or that one time you didn't return a library book in 1994, you aren't getting on the flight to Eternal Rest. You're staying in the terminal. Forever. Drafted into the Department of Unclaimed Baggage, Arthur finds himself reporting to a jackal-headed god who can't use a stapler and a corporate-demon boss who's monetising human misery through overpriced "Soul Coffee." But when Arthur discovers that the CEO (God) has been "out to lunch" for four millennia, leaving the universe on a buggy, unmonitored script, he does the only logical thing: he promotes himself to Interim COO. Equipped with a sentient sandwich, a 10,000-page HR Handbook, and a terrifyingly efficient sense of order, Arthur is about to prove that salvation isn't about divine grace-it's about properly managed logistics. Eternity is a mess. Arthur is bringing a label maker.