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The hotel lobby had an air of faded grandeur but it was only there in touches: bronze statues on small, marble-topped tables; huge, dark paintings, hanging, in many cases haphazardly, depicting sombre-looking or scowling individuals; oak panelled walls; a receptionist with an elegant up-swept hairdo and a scent of beeswax – all of these mingling with modern telephones and a computer at the reception desk.

Above this scene hung a chandelier, which appeared to move at the slightest provocation: a gust of wind from the doorway; the thump of a suitcase onto the tiled floor or the heavy breath of someone who had been rushing to get to the hotel before ten pm. The latter was William Soames and he felt as jaded as some of the people staring down at him from the paintings on the walls. Why did they all look so weary?

The receptionist smiled at him. “Ah, Mr. Soames, you will find your room on the 3rd floor. Room Number 45.” She smiled and handed him an ornate looking key. “Your course begins tonight by the way, but no need to worry, it is a subliminal one. Tomorrow it will be face-to-face.”

“Oh!” William was taken aback. “I wasn't told that. Will I wear headphones or do I turn on the television or something?” He had no idea how subliminal courses worked. He couldn’t be bothered to ask more questions – it was late – soon he would be in bed and then he would find out.

Something about the receptionist looked familiar. William had a feeling they had met before and that the receptionist knew of this, but she didn’t mention the fact and remained professional. “Neither sir, our very modern technology will home in on you. But no equipment, no wires, no headphones are needed.’ She turned to attend to another late arrival and the brief moment of recognition was lost, struggling through the antiquity of the building and its many narrow, dark corridors.

William shrugged. He left the porter to carry his bag and made his way up to the third floor via the lift. Room Number 45. Hadn’t he read of something terrible happening in that room? He wracked his brains. No, it was a different room, room 55 or was it room 21? Or was it all the rooms? Something about this hotel was quite evil. People had died here; he could feel their fear oozing from the walls, from behind the wooden panelling that clad the entire hotel. In his room, he could also smell damp seeping under the door, which had been apparent on first entry into the hotel and insidiously accompanied him into the lift and down the corridor to his room. It was the sort of damp that arose from ancient forests where yellowed cadavers had lain there amongst fungi and moss until it became part of them. No. He shook himself. Get a grip William, he told himself, this is precisely why you have been sent on this course. You are run down, and most probably delusional and the damp, no doubt, is coming from a vast cellar that used to store wine, way below in the hotel’s extensive depths.

The porter knocked with his bag and waited expectantly. There was something about him that gave William the creeps: a certain look in the old guy’s eyes, a knowing look that was most disconcerting. What did he know? He looked rather too old to be carrying luggage, and had a sallow complexion, which looked much like William’s recent imagining. However, a small wadge of sympathy came to the fore as William pressed a tip into the old guy’s hand; he noted that the porter was almost bent double even though relieved of his ‘load’ – yet William had travelled pretty light. Not much was needed for the three day course. Perhaps he should add to the tip? But as he rummaged in his pocket for his wallet, the porter had gone.

As William unpacked his bag he thought back to last week, rushing to get to the office as usual and not looking forward to the day ahead. Mr. Baines’ secretary, Madeline had eyed him with some concern. “You shouldn’t have come in,” she said, “you’ve been working too hard. You need a rest.”

“Maybe I need incentive instead,” he said. He had tried to type on his computer but it hadn’t seemed to be responding to him. He felt disorientated. Madeline brought him a cup of coffee but he found it hard to swallow. She watched him as he picked up his pen and tried to write but the pen fell to the floor.

That day had stretched out forever and William got very little done – in fact he couldn’t seem to remember what he had been doing all day. This situation had been going on for the past week. It was ridiculous. Company sales figures and balances were swimming in his brain along with targets and dotted lines. All of these joined together and eventually the dotted lines were all that remained. At that point he must have passed out.

Madeline found him, of course, but no-one else had even bothered to check if all was well. Still his office was rather isolated and a lot of the workers were on leave.Yes that would account for it. Madeline handed him a slip of paper. “Go home and pack William. I’ve been told you must attend this course.”

His red rimmed eyes looked up at her woefully. “An incentive course?” His pride wouldn’t let him call it anything else, but it was probably something that would jar his brain into action in a most aggressive manner. Mr. Baines, both his and Madeline’s boss, was a most intolerant man. Everyone had to be ‘up to speed’ as he put it. No time for ditherers. No time for procrastinators. No time for time even. He rushed ahead of everything and expected his staff to do the same.

William had thanked Madeline – a kind lady – and wished everyone would see her qualities as well as he did. Always she dressed in black and could be seen at lunchtimes reading something gothic in the staff canteen. Once, she confessed to William, she had wanted to be an embalmer, working in a funeral parlour but her parents had disapproved. William told her she should have ignored them. So she liked the dead, so what? Each to his or her own was William’s view. Others in the company called her weird and avoided her but she was an efficient, motivated lady who cared about all those in Mr. Baines’ employ and she could always be relied upon to give sage advice in the most distressing of circumstances – and there were plenty of those in the Baines’ building.

So here he was, William Soames, sitting in his hotel bedroom, turning off his light and about to be subliminally coached throughout the night. In the morning, no doubt he would wake up eager, full of energy and raring to go to the second part of the course.

He dropped off to sleep almost immediately but about 1.30 am he heard whispers. Ah, part of the coaching he presumed. But then the whispers grew louder and he felt fingers around his throat. “No, no not like this,” William whimpered.

“Why not?’ said a voice, rasping through the gloom. It was odd but although William had kept his bedside light on, a shadow around him obscured its glow. The fingers pressed harder into his throat and William spluttered, “Look, do it quick if you are going to do it.” At this, the fingers released their pressure.

“What do you want?” asked the voice. An odd question. Shouldn’t it be William who was asking this? Somehow though, William felt that the entity liked to be unpredictable.

“I want for you to go away,” said William, wondering why he was being so polite to a murderous entity. Or was this part of the subliminal course? He couldn’t imagine of what benefit death threats were.

The voice laughed. “But my dear William I can never go away. I will always be with you now.” William felt suddenly sick. He sat up in bed and vomited all over the hotels’ freshly laundered bed linen. It didn’t seem to stop. There must have been gallons of it, as if his entire body was filled with the stuff. The laughter from the one watching became almost deafening, particularly as William appeared to have difficulty breathing. When the ghastly flow of vomit ceased, William lay back and tried to turn the main light switch on, but as he did so his fingers went numb as if turned to ice. He felt too weak and disturbed to clear up the mess he had just created and just lay there wondering what was coming next. Thoughts of vacating his room did not occur to him. He was not a quitter and if this whole charade was part of a work course, then he was not about to give up. At this point the gloom dissipated and William saw the hotel phone by his bedside. He picked it up.

Madeline answered the phone. What? He had dialled zero for reception. Then he remembered how the receptionist looked – like Madeline but with a different hairstyle and some years older. Why was she here? Everyone at work thought she was strange. Was it really Mr. Baines idea to send him here?

As if reading his thoughts Madeline said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not a witch. It wasn’t my idea, or Mr. Baines’ idea that you come on this course, it was yours.”

“Mine?” This was a joke but then he couldn’t remember much of that last terrible week at work before he arrived at the hotel.

“It was necessary. You knew it and I knew it. Everything will become clear soon.”

“That’s if the thing doesn’t kill me before morning. It smells of death, I really think my time is up.” William’s voice lacked the drama that the statement needed; he was just numb, blank, and accepting of his lot, even though he knew it might not be real.

“Don’t be afraid,” Madeline repeated and hung up.

The gloom reappeared then and with it something heavy sitting on his chest. William couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream. He was dying.
…..........................

In the morning William awoke. It had been one hell of a subliminal course, far too real for his liking. But what was it meant to achieve? He gathered up the soiled sheets, went into the bathroom and placed them in the bath with a note of apology. He wondered if the note was needed. If everyone had the same course, no doubt soiled sheets were commonplace and most likely expected. He had a shower, dressed and looked at himself in the mirror. No reflection. Dead people have no reflection. The entity, subliminal or otherwise had scared him to death. It only took seconds for the fact to sink in. What to do? He went downstairs to the large room where the course was taking place – and as to why he went he had no idea whatsoever, but then the dead surely cannot think straight, especially when they have only just passed.

There were about a dozen people in the room, who looked up as he entered. Oh God they could see him – they must all be dead too! The instructor nodded to him. “Ah, the last one to arrive, welcome William to the second part of the Adjustment course.” Then he continued to address all of those present. “Yes, I can sense the predominant question in all of your minds, you are all, of course, dead and have been dead for some time.”

William put up his hand. He felt like a child at school. “Excuse me. But I was only killed last night by some entity.”

The instructor looked amused. “That entity was Death himself and no he did not kill you. You were dead before you came here. This was the first lesson. The dead cannot be killed. All of you here today in this room had to learn this lesson. Brutal? Shocking? Yes, I agree but it usually works.”

William shook his head as if dazed and saw that all of those in the room looked equally stunned. The instructor informed them that the Hotel was a receiving place for the dead as well as a place of learning before they all moved on to their true destinations. The lesson continued – basically it was a comprehensive set of instructions on how to proceed in the Afterlife. There would be many more instructions in the remaining two lessons. After that everyone would be learning a new set of skills that would enable them to function better wherever they were finally placed.

At the end of the first lesson William wandered out into the main reception where Madeline stood at the reception desk. The thought came to him, that really it was the perfect job for her, working in a hotel full of dead people. She was far better off than working for old Baines’ typing his letters, washing his socks and all the other menial jobs he gave to her. Baines had liked to humiliate her and all of his employees come to that.

She looked pleased, almost relieved to see William. “Tough night.” she said. It wasn’t a question it was a statement.

“How come you are here?” asked William. “It seems like most of the people here are dead, including the instructor, probably.”

Madeline sighed. “I’m dead too. I came here quite a while ago, years in fact.”

“But it was only last week that I saw you in the office!”

Madeline’s voice was very soft. “No William, you passed fifteen years ago – you died of a heart attack in the street whilst rushing to work – but you stayed in the office. Time is different for those in limbo. Fifteen years merely felt like seven days. You were a workaholic – you couldn’t let go. I went back at one point to help you, as there was a part of you that was crying out for release, but you needed adjustment, so really, as I say, this course was your idea.”

“Not one of my best!” William gave a wry smile and wondered how he could dredge up humor at such a time. “That thing in my room. Was it really Death? If it was, then why did he say he will he stay with me forever. Do you know what I think? I think he lied.”

Madeline looked pleased at this statement. “Yes, Death is part of the Hotel staff, helping people to come to terms with reality. Sometimes, just for fun, he works as one of the porters. It amuses him to appear as a decrepid old thing and have people feel sorry for him, especially when he know he will be scaring the wits out of his sympathisers. It is the fear of him that can stay with a person forever. Being dead is no protection from that fear. However the sooner you accept fully that nothing can kill you, you will be free of that fear and free to move on. It seems you have reached that stage.”

William learnt much from the remaining two lessons of the Adjustment Course, including the fact that there were other ways and other entities to help people realise their situation – some are gentle, some not so gentle. Apparently he had needed shock treatment and Death was the main Shocker employed to carry this out.

William was glad he wouldn’t have to see Death again, at least not in his ‘Shocker’ role. The Grim Reaper enjoyed his job just a little too much! Mind you, when old Baines arrived looking totally bewildered, having been dead even longer than William had, William felt quite tempted to join forces with Death on the first night of Adjustment. What sweet revenge it would have been to give the old guy a good scare. However, as it turned out, Baines’ screams reverberating throughout the hotel – and causing the chandelier in the lobby to wobble even more than usual – turned out to be almost as satisfying.