Harvest
A Discworld fanfic
DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters or places. They all belong to Terry Pratchett. Happy, lawyers?
A/N: This is a sort of sequel to Reaper Man. I know that other authoritative "Death" books have come since then, but it never hurts to speculate…
Death sighed.
HERE IS ANOTHER DAY AT THE OFFICE. I ASSUME THAT WAS THE CORRECT TERM, ALBERT?
"Yes, sir."
I MUST AID THE PASSAGE OF MANY SOULS INTO THE NEXT WORLD. HOW DULL…
"Sir, if I may be so bold, there are some who would give their right arms to have a job like yours," said Albert.
AH. GOTHS, said Death, who apparently knew enough about humanity to know that there were indeed people who went in for dying their hair black with green streaks, wearing black shirts with rather nasty-looking Jolly Rogers emblazoned upon them, strange black pants, and black nail polish.[1]
THEY FIRED ME. OR RATHER, THEY SPEEDED MY RETIREMENT. WHY AM I STILL HERE, ALBERT? WHY HAVE I NOT REMAINED THAT BEING WHICH I WAS, IF ONLY FOR A SHORT TIME?
Albert remained silent. It was good to allow the Master a bit of introspection now and then, otherwise all hell might break loose… people could stop dying, or someone else could end up with the Duty… but it was also good to stop his thoughts before they went too far. Death was not exactly in the right line of work to speculate about his job, as Albert remembered someone saying.
Such speculation is dangerous…
A plain, and outlined in the sky the face of Azrael. Grey figures, conversing without speaking…
ALBERT, THERE IS NOTHING FOR ME IN THIS. HOW CAN I CONTINUE FOR ETERNITY EASING SPIRITS INTO… WHATEVER COMES NEXT?
"Sir, you can't do anything else. You've tried. You've tried forgetting, you've tried almost becoming a human - and it's not worked, sir."
I HAVE BEEN REMOVED FROM THE DUTY BEFORE ALBERT. I WILL DO IT AGAIN. I WILL SPEAK WITH THE AUDITORS, AND I WILL RESIGN.
[1] Nail polish was a relatively new fashion on the Discworld. It was invented by Maria Flannery, a woman who was incredibly upset about her rejection from Unseen University. Upon attempting to create a poison to murder Archchancellor Ridcully, all she managed to do was to create a new feminine fad. Of course, poison and fad are sometimes synonymous.