On a Pale Horse by Piers Anthony

Incarnations do try to accommodate one another. It is, after all, one firmament.”
    “I didn’t realize I was signaling you,” Zane said sheepishly. “I’m new at this. In fact, I hardly realized you existed as a person.”
    “As a personification,” Chronos corrected him. “An Incarnation of an essential function of existence. Persons differ, but the role continues.”
    “That’s another thing it’s hard to get used to—the notion that things like Death and Time are offices, not physical laws or whatever.”
    “We are roles and offices and laws and more,” Chronos assured him. “We are also human beings, and that human quality is important.”
    “I was just trying to find out how the watch worked. There doesn’t seem to be any function for the hours dial.”
    “It records your schedule backlog,” Chronos said easily. “You have recycled your next client by seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds; you have also placed the entire program on hold. This is, of course, your prerogative; you are Death. You can even halt the passage of all time by pulling out the center button. But if you maintain the hold more than half an hour, it will register on the hours dial as a tardy schedule that needs to be made up. If you run more than twelve hours late, overflowing the capacity of the watch, there will be an investigation by the authorities at Purgatory that could damage your performance rating.”
    “Oh? What happens to me if my rating is bad?”
    “That counts as evil on your soul, shifting your balance toward Hell. Of course, you are in perfect balance during your initiation period; every officeholder needs time for trial and error. But when that passes, and at such time as you give up the office, for whatever reason, a negative rating could make your soul most uncomfortable.”
    Zane was getting it straight. He held the office of Death, but he remained alive, and the account of his soul was yet to be settled. “My predecessor—where did his soul go?”
    “He had done an adequate job, generally; I’m sure he found his way to Heaven, which is the last refuge of adequacy.”
    That made Zane feel easier. “And if I do a good job, I will go to Heaven, too—when the time comes?”
    “
If
it comes. You should. Since you commence the office balanced, and performance is fairly straightforward, it should not be difficult for you to improve your position.”
    “How do you know my soul is balanced?”
    “If it were not, Death would not have had to come for you individually.”
    Zane laughed. “You know, I never thought of that! My good and evil were even, so when I tried to suicide, I had to be collected by Death himself. And if I hadn’t seen Death arriving, I would be dead now!”
    “It is an unusual situation,” Chronos agreed. “But at the same time normal. Each Death assassinates his predecessor, thereby burdening his own soul with more evil, but postponing his own reckoning indefinitely. I hardly envy your system.”
    “Your system differs?”
    “Certainly. Each office has its own mechanism of transmittal, some gentler than others. But all of us work together as required, treating one another’s offices with due respect. I feel indebted to the prior Death, who did me a favor on occasion, and regret that it was necessary for him to leave the office. Now I will facilitate things for his successor, as he would have wished.”
    “He doesn’t hate me?” Zane asked, bemused.
    “There is no hate in Heaven.”
    “But I murdered him!”
    “And you will be murdered by your successor. Do you hate him?”
    “Hate my successor? I don’t even know him!”
    “Your predecessor did not know you. Otherwise he would have been more careful.”
    Zane changed the subject. “I have just taken a baby. It is perfectly balanced, a uniform shade of gray. I don’t know how it can have so much evil on its soul, so well integrated, or what I should do with the soul. Can you advise me?”
    “I can clarify the matter.