Every so often Odin would get an idea, it would lead them to try a new approach. Usually it was the same old schtick. Get in, get the soul, get out. But every so often, something had to be tried. Otherwise what was the point of being a scientist, of drifting between planes in this way.

That particular day the job was unpleasant. It seemed to drag on and on, from the case file, to the train ride. Even the portal aftershock was somehow more disruptive than usual. Not as disruptive as the idea would be when it arrived however. The way it came to Odin was simple, but enthralling. How long, could one stay on this side? And what were the repercussions? No matter how much Odin thought back over their numerous memories, they could not recall a story of someone attempting to push the limits. The rules had been the same for so long, rigid and unchanged. The thought of it captivated Odin. Days, perhaps months, in this realm.

With the souls.

And the power. Of flight. To soar alongside the birds, to follow them on their migration. To swim to the deepest reaches of the ocean. Alongside the great whale, or the sleeping dragon long left from the world. Odin could spend an age watching the passersby, what brought them smiles, and how their quaint little lives would flourish or flicker. Eventually leading back, to more souls.

Sure, it would get crowded after a while, but think of the sights. The great museums of the plane. Hundreds of works of art and pieces of history. The natural wonders. The starlit rock formations. Endless cascading oceans of bright shimmering light. Countless species to document and observe. An ever evolving landscape. So unlike home.

And what would become of Odin, in such a state? What would their own thoughts come to look like? Once they had exhausted all these simple pleasures. Would they grow weak, surrounded by the odd and otherworldly. Or perhaps the opposite, swelling with the light of new energy given from the plane. Would the way home remain clear, or become as foggy as a night sky obscured by the misty waters. Perhaps Odin would eventually slow and turn to stone, or evaporate like the morning dew in the hot sun.

"Better not to risk it," Odin said aloud with no one to hear it. But the idea preserved, lingered, as the new soul was collected. Just an hour longer, just stay a little. The air was so tantalizing, so fulfilling. Odin swept the soul into the sleeve of their long robe. And began huddling back toward the portal. They couldn't last much longer in the heat of the sun, it was beginning to burn and peel. Despite that the feeling was blissful against the normal state of cold and decay. It felt like a heavenly spa as it choked and burned at Odin's senses. Their feet picked up speed and the dove through the portal. All at once they felt a rush of cool.

The soul wisped out from Odin's sleeve, joining the others in the pot. It seemed most of Odin's peers were successful as well. It never gets any easier, Odin was thinking. That was a close one, next time I might not be so lucky. That was what they called retirement, finally giving in to the voices. Accepting life amongst the mortal realms. Every time it would try to trick you somehow, to make you misremember which side of the portal you lived on, or forget that you had experienced it all before. The unlucky were trapped forever when the portals closed, doomed to be eaten by the many souls begging to cross over. The adept could continue to cross indefinitely, proving themselves to be a true harvester. Perhaps one day Odin could join their ranks and forget the voices, and the science behind it all.

Today the pot was full, and Odin and his fellow reapers would be rewarded. The meal would provide a glimpse of feeling in the staleness, a drop of paint in an otherwise clear pool.

Tomorrow perhaps, a visit to the pyramids. But just for a little while.