This miserable way is taken by the sorry souls of those who lived without disgrace and without praise…The heavens, that their beauty not be lessened, have cast them out, nor will deep Hell receive them-even the wicked cannot glory in them.

~The Divine Comedy, Inferno, Canto III

The open highway, traveled alone, can be a lonesome place. Jim never imagined it could ever be that way riding in a car with Michael Scott. But there they were, the two of them in Michael’s Sebring, silently passing the miles on the way to their destination. It was almost as if Michael sensed what he was going through and knowingly stayed silent. If his mind hadn’t been working so hard to digest everything that had transpired in the last day, he would have been touched.

The methodical whir of the tires on pavement and the blur of the painted line beside him felt like his only companions as he lost himself in his thoughts. He thought of Karen, and how he really was a jerk to her sometimes. As much as it hurt to lose her, he knew in his heart that she would be better off with someone who could really, truly commit himself entirely to her. He thought of his dad, and he prayed a silent prayer to God that the cancer was contained…he thought maybe he should take a few days off and spend some time back at home, whether he was returning for the job or not. Mostly, he thought of Pam, wondering if she’d heard the news of his possible return or not. Michael can’t keep a secret…I’m sure everyone in the entire office knows by now. If he came back, could they return to their old ways? Would she even want to go back? Would she want to be friends at all anymore? Her silence after calling off her wedding was perplexing. When he heard the news from Kevin during a call to set up their fantasy football league, he was beyond shocked. He’d spent the rest of the night…the rest of the month…truth be told, he’d probably spend the rest of his life…hoping she’d call. He checked his cell, he checked at work first thing every morning…yet still nothing. Best friend my ass, he remembered thinking as he tried to drown his worry in whiskey one night at home. His stance softened in the months after…maybe she was scared…maybe she didn’t know my number…maybe Roy threatened her. Whatever it was, he’d been rejected twice and there was no reason to think he’d want to walk back into that buzz saw again.

“Jimbo, check that out!” Michael was prodding his shoulder and pointing toward something beside the road. It looked like a regular office building to him, although he wondered why the lights were all on at 4 in the morning.

“Yeah, Michael. A building with some lights on. They do stay up past 10 in places other than Scranton, you know.”

“Nope, that’s not just any building…that’s Dunder Mifflin’s IT building. Well, they don’t actually work FOR us…they’re hired by corporate to come fix the messes that people like Toby make. Why don’t we stop in and say hi? I wanted to get some advice about how to set up my home network anyway. Don‘t want Jan or Carol finding anything on my computer I don‘t want them to see,” he said with a wink and a nudge. Before Jim even had a chance to respond (or vomit), Michael had caught the exit and was turning toward the parking lot. This night can’t get much stranger. Jim stepped out of the car and by the time he’d taken two steps, Michael was halfway to the front entrance. “Last one in is a rotten egg!,” he called out. He had to shake his head at Michael’s childishness, yet at the same time he envied his seemingly carefree spirit.

Once inside, Jim immediately realized that now was not the time to be visiting. The alarm above the entrance was buzzing loudly, and in the room to his left, he could see lights flashing on and off, as though controlled by a child flicking a switch back and forth. Women in heels were clacking loudly across the white tile floor between rooms down a long hallway, while men in white lab coats shuffled around, mumbled, huddled together in conferences and generally tried to ignore the cacophony surrounding them.

Jim was about to suggest that maybe they should come back at a better time when Michael firmly grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hall. As they neared one room in particular, they noticed a blinding white light streaming out, rendering them unable to even look into it to see what was going on. Periodically, someone would go running by them, nearly in tears and itching some random body part, like there was a plague of sorts going on. They entered a large common area where there was some shelter from the bitter screeching of the alarms. It was hardly a better situation, though. A few moments after they walked in, the sprinkler system failed, sending a torrent of water splashing onto the crowd below. As the throng rushed for the exits, Jim and Michael were caught in the stampede and forced out of the room themselves.

As the IT professionals stormed past, Michael spotted Sadiq, the dedicated Scranton tech. “Sadiq! Sadiq!,” he bellowed over the crowd.

Sadiq heard the yelling and with an impatient look, waded his way across the crowd. “Michael, Jim. What are you doing here?” He looked like he’d just run a marathon…his speech was a bit ragged, his clothes worn and his eyes had large black circles under them. Jim guessed that whatever this problem in the building was, it had been going on for a while.

“Well, Michael wanted to get the guided tour of the factory…I think he thought you guys made chocolate here,” Jim quipped. Both of the younger men chuckled, while Michael simply snorted at Jim in defiance. Instinctively, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and toyed with the loose change to keep his hands calm in the chaos. “So, what’s going on here? It looks like World War III started or something.”

The young professional paused, unsure of how to continue. “Well, to start with, our main server went down, and then somehow the power line to the building was cut, so we’re running on a generator, which as you can see is shaky…” He gestured toward the flickering lights. “To top it all off, a shelf in the lab above us tipped over and released the mosquitoes they were experimenting on. We’ve been here for three days straight trying to get it fixed but every time we think we have it, another server crashes.”

“So, why don’t they just send you home?,” Jim asked.

“Well, we were behind to begin with and management says that if we can’t get caught up soon, we might lose some of our big accounts. The entire staff has been on duty here…I’m not sure how much more of this we can take.” He wiped the sweat from his brow as his cell phone rang. He gave a knowing nod and told he caller that he’d be right there. He turned and started to inch away from the two paper employees. “I’m really sorry guys, but I need to get going. We just lost our second to last server and I’m the guy who usually works on that one. I’ll see you later.”

Michael, quiet the entire conversation, began to call out, “But wait, I didn’t get a chance to ask you about my…”

“Michael, they kinda have more important things to do here,” Jim cut him off. “Now let’s get going before we get trampled by the herd.” Michael smiled and they made their way to the exit. Jim felt genuinely sorry for those guys, and a little better about his own situation. “Man, those guys are going through absolute hell in there,” he remarked as they strolled across the parking lot to the car.

“Not quite,” came the quick retort. Jim thought he saw a wink and a small grin tugging at the corner of Michael’s mouth, but passed it off as another of Michael’s oddities…his idea of the ultimate punishment would be no more Pretzel Day. As they re-entered the freeway, the older man turned to him and asked, “To the Chili’s, my young friend?”

“Sure thing, Michael.”

The miles ticked by like grains through an hourglass. Michael again remained silent as he drove, the few bars he’d hum at the beginning of every song he liked notwithstanding. The tranquil purring of the wheels as they touched asphalt combined with the effects of the long day and early morning were beginning to take hold of his consciousness, and before he knew it he was slipping into a peaceful rest. As he slept, he dreamt he was leaning over a ledge and extending his arm downward to something. Looking down, he realized it was Pam, dangling off a tree root. She’d scream “Jim!” and he reached toward her, grasping the warm tips of her fingers before she pulled her hand back and said, “I can‘t do it, Jim. Please go get help!” The anguish of his own inadequacy infuriated him and he wanted to walk away, but at the same time he couldn’t leave his love like that. He reached his hand down again and begged, “Please, Pam….just take my hand. I can save you!” Pam was unable to respond, paralyzed by the fear of falling...or of him. He couldn’t be sure. Disgusted, he turned around and began to walk away when he heard the branch break and Pam call out his name. He dashed back to the ledge but it was too late…she was already falling.

He woke up with a gasp, lurching forward in his seat. Michael turned his head and looked at him funnily. “You ok, Jimster?”

“Uhh, yeah. Strange dream. What time is it?” He wiped his hand across his face, hoping not to trigger one of Michael’s stories about his nightmares.

“It’s 3:16. Well, it’s a good thing you woke up now, because we’re almost there!”

He thought he remembered it being 3:16 when they left, but decided to ignore that for the time being. “Good, cause I’m starving.” He glanced out the window, noting the scenery that was more trees and grass than houses and buildings as he expected. It did look familiar, however. He turned back toward Michael. “Hey, where is this Chili’s at? Sure seems like we’ve gone a long ways.”

“It’s in Scranton,” Michael replied matter-of-factly.

“Scranton?!?,” Jim barely choked out. What the hell? That was the last place on earth he wanted to be tonight. Besides, they had to have driven for three hours now and it wasn’t even beginning to get light yet. “Michael, why did we need to come all this way to grab breakfast? Are you trying to kidnap me?” He was only half-joking.

“You sir, are going to visit the afterlife tonight.” He spoke in that slightly off British accent that he usually used when he was messing around. He’s probably going to take me to a haunted house like we had to visit three Halloweens ago.

“Sure Michael. And just why am I doing that?”

“Because you’re dead, Jim.” His tone turned severely serious and he wondered how Michael could keep a straight face right now…normally he’d have broken down and burst out laughing before they even started at the mere thought of his twisted joke.

“Oh, you got me. Real funny.” He tried his best to genuinely laugh, hoping Michael would drop the increasingly annoying routine.

Michael continued. “James Halpert. Parents Samuel and Larissa Halpert. Born July 7, 1979. Two siblings, an older brother Jonathan and a younger sister Tanya. Attended Dunmore Middle School and Scranton East High School. Majored in journalism with a minor in public speaking at Pennsylvania State University, graduated Magna Cum Laude in May 2001.”

“Ok, so you got my file from Toby. Cute.” He was trying not to encourage the lame gag, but he couldn’t resist a jab at Michael. “I didn’t realize you two had gotten so close since I left.” He grinned as the barb hit its mark.

“Ugh, Toby. He is the devil. Well, not literally, but I would have put him in hell if the big guy didn’t override me.” Repulsion was written across his features. Nevertheless, he went on. “Started walking at 11 months, first word was “doggy,” played Rudolph in the 2nd grade school play, first kiss Kelsi Jones, first date Jennifer Sanderson, biggest fear is rejection, has a guitar but never plays, secretly admires Dwight Schrute…”

“Umm, err, h-h-ow do you know all that? Did you talk to my mom?” He was beginning to get a little nervous.

“I told you…you’re dead, Jim. I know everything about you now.”

He snapped. “Bullshit, Michael! Now tell me what the hell we’re doing in a car going back toward Scranton and why you know all this crap about me!” He could see out of the corner of his eye a sign that said “Leaving New Jersey” as they rolled onto the Delaware River Gap Bridge. A thick cloud of smoke, or perhaps fog engulfed all but the ebony highway shining in the headlights in front of them.

Michael stared straight ahead and calmly said, “If you don’t believe me, just check the messages on your phone.”

“I smashed my phone earlier…it’s sitting on the floor in my apartment.”

“Look in your pocket.”

Jim slipped his hand into his jacket and in astonishment, removed an intact cell phone. He thought for a second that it was just a replacement, but the same worn Chiquita sticker was still there. He smiled…Pam had put that one on there last spring. It was the one place he hadn’t erased or removed whatever had reminded him of her…the last vestige of hope clinging to his psyche like a secluded snowflake under the cool pine boughs in the spring. Snapping back to reality, he flipped the phone open and noted 9 new messages.

Time 3:16 AM Nov. 16, 2006 From: Big Guy Subj: Welcome!

Time 3:16 AM Nov. 16, 2006 From: Big Guy Subj: Re: Jim (From-Tanya Halpert To-Pam Beesly)

Time 3:16 AM Nov. 16, 2006 From: Big Guy Subj: Re: Jim Halpert (From-DunMiff To-All Employees)

Time 3:16 AM Nov. 16, 2006 From: Big Guy Subj: Obituary

………………………………......................................................

Who was this Big Guy? He thought the better of asking Michael, but he could only shut the phone and stare out the window in dead silence. His throat tightened and sweat began to gather on his forehead at the thought that he might really be dead…and not only that, MICHAEL, of all people, was escorting him to Heaven…or maybe was it Hell? He hadn’t been to church in a few years…oh my God….why? He cringed at the thought of his friends in Scranton, and especially Pam, having to find out about his demise from a text message or an email. Despite their distance, they were still friends and he knew she cared about him.

His mind was racing as they neared the far end of the bridge, a mysterious blackness threatening to swallow the car whole on the opposite side. “Michael, please…turn around!, he begged. ” I’m too young to be dead…I’ve got so much left to do…I swear, God, just let me live and I’ll never take anything for granted again. Michael, numb to his pleading, simply continued on his seemingly programmed path into the night. He began to hyperventilate at the thought of the finality that seemed imminent; he thought he’d reached the breaking point when his boss turned and placed a hand on his forehead.

He tilted his head back at the touch and felt a jolt of electricity surge through his body. The last thing he recalled seeing before he blacked out was a large blue sign announcing “Welcome to Pennsylvania-You’ll Want to Stay Forever!”