Pyramids

They seem to think that being dead is like being deaf, you just have to speak up a bit.
    But a second, older voice said: We’ve run a kingdom like this for seven thousand years. The humblest melon farmer has a lineage that makes kings elsewhere look like mayflies. We used to own the continent, before we sold it again to pay for pyramids. We don’t even think about other countries less than three thousand years old. It all seems to work.
    “Hallo, father,” he said.
    The shade of Teppicymon XXVII, which had been watching him closely, hurried across the room.
    “ You’re looking well! ” he said. “ Good to see you! Look, this is urgent. Please pay attention, it’s about death —”
    “He says he is pleased to see you,” said Dios.
    “You can hear him?” said Teppic. “I didn’t hear anything.”
    “The dead, naturally, speak through the priests,” said the priest. “That is the custom, sire.”
    “But he can hear me, can he?”
    “Of course.”
    “ I’ve been thinking about this whole pyramid business and, look, I’m not certain about it. ”
    Teppic leaned closer. “Auntie sends her love,” he said loudly. He thought about this. “That’s my aunt, not yours.” I hope, he added.
    “ I say? I say? Can you hear me? ”
    “He bids you greetings from the world beyond the veil,” said Dios.
    “ Well, yes, I suppose I do, but LOOK, I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble and build —”
    “We’re going to build you a marvelous pyramid, father. You’ll really like it there. There’ll be people to look after you and everything.” Teppic glanced at Dios for reassurance. “He’ll like that, won’t he?”
    “ I don’t WANT one !” screamed the king. “ There’s a whole interesting eternity I haven’t seen yet. I forbid you to put me in a pyramid! ”
    “He says that is very proper, and you are a dutiful son,” said Dios.
    “ Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up? Think it’s fun, do you, spending the rest of your death under a million tons of rock, watching yourself crumble to bits? Is that your idea of a good epoch? ”
    “It’s rather drafty in here, sire,” said Dios. “Perhaps we should get on.”
    “ Anyway, you can’t possibly afford it! ”
    “And we’ll put your favorite frescoes and statues in with you. You’ll like that, won’t you,” said Teppic desperately. “All your bits and pieces around you.”
    “He will like it, won’t he?” he asked Dios, as they walked back to the throne room. “Only, I don’t know, I somehow got a feeling he isn’t too happy about it.”
    “I assure you, sire,” said Dios, “he can have no other desire.”
    Back in the embalming room King Teppicymon XXVII tried to tap Gern on the shoulder, which had no effect. He gave up and sat down beside himself.
    “ Don’t do it, lad, ” he said bitterly. “ Never have descendants. ”

    And then there was the Great Pyramid itself.
    Teppic’s footsteps echoed on the marble tiles as he walked around the model. He wasn’t sure what one was supposed to do here. But kings, he suspected, were often put in that position; there was always the good old fallback, which was known as taking an interest.
    “Well, well,” he said. “How long have you been designing pyramids?”
    Ptaclusp, architect and jobbing pyramid builder to the nobility, bowed deeply.
    “All my life, O light of noonday.”
    “It must be fascinating,” said Teppic. Ptaclusp looked sidelong at the high priest, who nodded.
    “It has its points, O fount of waters,” he ventured. He wasn’t used to kings talking to him as though he was a human being. He felt obscurely that it wasn’t right.
    Teppic waved a hand at the model on its podium.
    “Yes,” he said uncertainly. “Well. Good. Four walls and a pointy tip. Jolly good. First class. Says it all, really.” There still seemed to be too much silence around. He plunged on.
    “Good show,” he said. “I mean, there’s no doubt about it. This is…a…pyramid. And what a pyramid it is! Indeed.”
    This still didn’t seem enough. He sought for something else. “People will look at it in centuries to come and they’ll say, they’ll say…that is a pyramid. Um.”
    He coughed. “The walls slope nicely,” he croaked.
    “But,” he said.
    Two pairs of eyes swiveled toward his.
    “Um,” he said.
    Dios raised an eyebrow.
    “Sire?”
    “I seem to remember once, my father said that, you know, when he died, he’d quite like to, sort of