The Last Continent - Terry Pratchett [85]
“Got any requests for your last breakfast?”
“Something that takes a really really long time to prepare?” said Rincewind.
“That’s the spirit!”
“Go away!”
“No worries.”
The men walked off, but the warder strolled back after a while as if he had something on his mind.
“There is something that you ought to know about the hanging, though,” he said. “Might brighten up your night.”
“Yes?”
“We’ve got a special humanitarian tradition if the trapdoor sticks three times.”
“Yes?”
“Sounds a bit odd, but it’s happened once or twice, believe it or not.”
A tiny green shoot rose from the blackened branches of hope.
“And what’s the tradition?” said Rincewind.
“It’s on account of it being heartless to have a man standing there more than three times, knowing that at any second his—”
“Yes, yes—”
“—and then all his—”
“Yes—”
“—and the worst part to my mind is where your—”
“Yes, I understand! And so…after the third time…?”
“He’s allowed back into his cell while we get a carpenter in to repair the trapdoor,” said the warder. “We even give him his dinner, if it’s gone on a long time.”
“And?”
“Well, when the carpenter’s given it a good test, then we take him out again and hang him.” He saw Rincewind’s expression. “No need to look like that. ’s better than having to stand around in the cold all morning, isn’t it? That wouldn’t be nice.”
When he’d gone, Rincewind sat and stared at the wall.
“Baa!”
“Shut up.”
So it was down to this, then. One brief night left, and then, if these clowns had anything to do with it, happy people would be wandering the streets to see where his head had come down. There was no justice!
G’DAY, MATE.
“Oh, no. Please.”
I JUST THOUGHT I SHOULD ENTER INTO THE SPIRIT OF THE THING. A VERY CONVIVIAL PEOPLE, AREN’T THEY? said Death. He was sitting beside Rincewind.
“You just can’t wait, can you?” said Rincewind bitterly.
NO WORRIES.
“So this is really it, then. I was supposed to have saved this country, you know. And I’m going to really die.”
OH, YES. THIS IS CERTAIN, I’M AFRAID.
“It’s the stupidity of it that gets me. I mean, think of all the times I’ve nearly died in the past. I could’ve been flamed by dragons, right? Or eaten by huge things with tentacles. Or even had every single particle of my body fly off in a different direction.”
YOU HAVE CERTAINLY HAD AN INTERESTING LIFE.
“Is it true that your life passes before your eyes before you die?”
YES.
“Ghastly thought, really.” Rincewind shuddered. “Oh, gods, I’ve just had another one. Suppose I am just about to die and this is my whole life passing in front of my eyes?”
I THINK PERHAPS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. PEOPLE’S WHOLE LIVES DO PASS IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES BEFORE THEY DIE. THE PROCESS IS CALLED “LIVING.” WOULD YOU LIKE A PRAWN?
Rincewind looked down at the bucket on Death’s lap.
“No, thank you. I really don’t think so. They can be pretty deadly. And I must say it’s a bit much of you to come here and gloat and eat prawns at me.”
I BEG YOUR PARDON?
“Just because I’m being hanged in the morning, I mean.”
ARE YOU? THEN I SHALL LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING HOW YOU ESCAPED. I’M DUE TO MEET A MAN IN…IN…Death’s eyesockets glowed as he interrogated his memory. AH, YES…INSIDE A CROCODILE. SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES AWAY, I BELIEVE.
“What? Then why are you here?”
OH, I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEE A FRIENDLY FACE. AND NOW I THINK I HAD BETTER BE GOING. Death stood up. VERY PLEASANT CITY IN MANY RESPECTS. TRY TO SEE THE OPERA HOUSE WHILE YOU’RE HERE.
“Hang on…I mean, hold on, you told me I was certainly going to die!”
EVERYONE IS. EVENTUALLY.
The wall opened and closed around Death as if it wasn’t there, which was, from his lengthy perspective, quite true.
“But how? I can’t walk through—” Rincewind began.
He sat down again. The sheep cowered in the corner.
Rincewind looked at the untouched meat pie floater and gave the pie a prod. It sank slowly beneath the vivid green soup.
The sounds of the city filtered in.
After a while the pie rose again like a forgotten continent, sending a very small wave slopping against the edge of the bowl.
Rincewind