Agent Dilbert

**POSTHUMOUS OFFICE ARCHIVE — ARTIFACT 02** **“The Printer’s First Impossible Document”** At 3:17 a.m., Agent Dilbert was reconciling obsolete expense reports when the unplugged beige laser printer began to hum. Dilbert—regenerated, observant, and contractually deceased—waited patiently. In the fluorescent green afterglow, the machine produced a single warm page. His coffee, poured six hours earlier, remained equally warm. The document was a performance review dated one day after the end of the universe. It commended his punctuality, questioned his “long-term vitality,” and recommended improvement in cross-departmental communication, despite every other department having passed beyond existence. Under **Employee Status**, someone had checked both *deceased* and *still employed*. Red correction marks appeared by themselves. They changed “met expectations” to “survived expectations,” then circled the word *survived* and wrote: **UNVERIFIED**. Dilbert filed the page under Tomorrow, Impossible. Before dawn, the printer produced a benefits termination notice and a calendar invitation for mandatory training three centuries later. Both were signed by Human Remains. The Archive entered its first standing rule that morning: **Death cancels benefits, but not deadlines.** Dilbert finished his shift, refreshed his coffee out of habit, and returned to work.