Something Less Boring
Death scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably. This sort of thing only happened once every few centuries, but when it did, it tended to end up starting cults, which in the long run usually meant more paperwork and some very tiresome interviews with the followers.
Of course, the doctors were in a kerfuffle, which wasn’t surprising, since one of the many things they were not trained for was the patient vanishing.
The two humans who the patient had ended up with were also in a kerfuffle, but less so; they appeared to be very pleased.
Death sighed. More cult material. She would have to talk to the Upper beings to appeal the instructions about returns. In the meanwhile, she would have to deal with today’s #66 (she’d forgotten his name; she’d seen a few hundred other patients since then).
Which would be finicky, because one should not simply dematerialize someone. At least, not twice in a row; it’s not proper. And there must be a plausible explanation to give.
At least it’d be something less boring to do.