At first, many had considered it a blessing.

Voices of loved ones comforting long after they had gone, and the rapid decrease in deaths due to the dead for once being able to speak for themselves.

You could never really see those who were speaking except for when you could swear something was in your periphery and could hear a voice like a whisper.

The dead were still dead however. They could not construct new thoughts or say things that they hadn’t said when they were alive. The Echoes, as they were called, affected everyone. Although certain echoes seemed to follow specific people, more often than not their words were broadcasted to whomever may be close by.

Some were less fortunate than others.

In the world that once was, there was a certain mindset that death meant peace and rest for the souls of the departed. However the emergence of these Echoes left many questioning the notion and fear for what would lie ahead for themselves.

The worst voices to listen to were always the children. Babies dying before maturing left screams behind, to echo for all eternity. You could see the sunken eyes and lifeless walk of couples on the street and knew at once to turn the other way just so that you could avoid hearing the same thing that they did.

At first I had avoided the voices for the most part. They were uncanny and the unease of hearing whispers in my ear with no one around would make my skin crawl.

That is until I met Dave.

I had been on the bus with my headphones in, trying to block out all other noise, when I heard a hello to my left. I glanced quickly and seeing no one I quickly pretended to not notice.

“How are you?”

I tried ignoring it, putting the volume higher and turning my body more towards the window.

“Can’t we just talk?”

“I can’t.” I whispered. It was easier to play along with then instead of trying to make them realize their fate.

A few passengers on the bus glanced my way before averting their eyes as well. Most did not want to bother.

“Can we talk later?”

The bus pulled up in front of the store and I quickly jumped out of my seat and made my way to the front. The voice was more persistent.

“Please?”

I sighed, hand resting on the door knob.

“Fine.”

The voice seemed content with the answer, remaining silent throughout my shift. Around closing time, I had almost forgotten the interaction as I waited patiently for the bus.

“Now?”

I jumped. Hair standing on end, as I was made aware of the presence of the other.

“No, at home.”

“Home.” The echo said, sounding somewhat pleased.

Upon arrival to my apartment, I made my way up the stairs and opened the door.

“What did you want?” I said aloud to the empty apartment.

“Just glad to be home.” The echo said.

“What is your name?” I asked somewhat curious about where this echo had come from.

“Hello! My name is Dave!” It said rather enthusiastically.

“Do you know where you are Dave?” I asked cautiously. It was an unspoken rule to not make the echoes aware of their demise. It was considered cruel since no one could do anything to help them.

“Home”

“No this is my apartment. I don’t know where your home is.”

There was a brief pause, as if the echo was comprehending what I was saying.

“I love my wife.”

I smiled despite the situation. At least he had spoken his thoughts aloud while he was alive. Most people did not.

“I know you do.”

“I love my wife.” Dave said again. This time in another inflection.

I sighed. Realistically speaking she was another echo like him, among the millions of others just like them. The echoes couldn’t see one another and therefore Dave would have little chance of hearing her again.

“I don’t know where your wife is.”

The answer seemed to confuse Dave. I knew he hadn’t left yet because there was still a distinct presence in the room, like being on the phone with someone and neither is talking.

“Oh.” Dave eventually said.

I could tell he left shortly after.

As I lay down for the night, I couldn’t help but wonder, what voice would I leave behind?