Reaper Man

shoulders.
    “Another nice day,” he said, conversationally.
    Death said nothing.
    Albert flapped the polishing cloth and pulled back Death’s cowl.
    A LBERT .
    “Sir?”
    Death pulled out the tiny golden timer.
    D O YOU SEE THIS ?
    “Yes, sir. Very nice. Never seen one like that before. Whose is it?”
    M INE .
    Albert’s eyes swiveled sideways. On one corner of Death’s desk was a large timer in a black frame. It contained no sand.
    “I thought that one was yours, sir?” he said.
    I T WAS . N OW THIS IS . A RETIREMENT PRESENT . F ROM A ZRAEL HIMSELF .
    Albert peered at the thing in Death’s hand.
    “But…the sand, sir. It’s pouring .”
    Q UITE SO .
    “But that means…I mean…?”
    I T MEANS THAT ONE DAY THE SAND WILL ALL BE POURED , A LBERT .
    “I know that, sir, but…you…I thought Time was something that happened to other people, sir. Doesn’t it? Not to you , sir.” By the end of the sentence Albert’s voice was beseeching.
    Death pulled off the towel and stood up.
    C OME WITH ME .
    “But you’re Death , master,” said Albert, running crab-legged after the tall figure as it led the way out into the hall and down the passage to the stable. “This isn’t some sort of joke, is it?” he added hopefully.
    I AM NOT KNOWN FOR MY SENSE OF FUN .
    “Well, of course not, no offense meant. But listen, you can’t die, because you’re Death, you’d have to happen to yourself, it’d be like that snake that eats its own tail—”
    N EVERTHELESS , I AM GOING TO DIE . T HERE IS NO APPEAL .
    “But what will happen to me? ” Albert said. Terror glittered on his words like flakes of metal on the edge of a knife.
    T HERE WILL BE A NEW D EATH .
    Albert drew himself up.
    “I really don’t think I could serve a new master,” he said.
    T HEN GO BACK INTO THE WORLD . I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY . Y OU HAVE BEEN A GOOD SERVANT , A LBERT .
    “But if I go back—”
    Y ES , said Death. Y OU WILL DIE .
    In the warm, horsey gloom of the stable, Death’s pale horse looked up from its oats and gave a little whinny of greeting. The horse’s name was Binky. He was a real horse. Death had tried fiery steeds and skeletal horses in the past, and found them impractical, especially the fiery ones, which tended to set light to their own bedding and stand in the middle of it looking embarrassed.
    Death took the saddle down from its hook and glanced at Albert, who was suffering a crisis of conscience.
    Thousands of years before, Albert had opted to serve Death rather than die. He wasn’t exactly immortal. Real time was forbidden in Death’s realm. There was only the ever-changing now , but it went on for a very long time. He had less than two months of real time left; he hoarded his days like bars of gold.
    “I, er…” he began. “That is—”
    Y OU FEAR TO DIE ?
    “It’s not that I don’t want…I mean, I’ve always…it’s just that life is a habit that’s hard to break…”
    Death watched him curiously, as one might watch a beetle that had landed on its back and couldn’t turn over.
    Finally Albert lapsed into silence.
    I UNDERSTAND , said Death, unhooking Binky’s bridle.
    “But you don’t seem worried! You’re really going to die? ”
    Y ES . I T WILL BE A GREAT ADVENTURE .
    “It will? You’re not afraid?”
    I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO BE AFRAID .
    “I could show you, if you like,” Albert ventured.
    N O . I SHOULD LIKE TO LEARN BY MYSELF . I SHALL HAVE EXPERIENCES . A T LAST .
    “Master…if you go, will there be—?”
    A NEW D EATH WILL ARISE FROM THE MINDS OF THE LIVING , A LBERT .
    “Oh.” Albert looked relieved. “You don’t happen to know what he’ll be like, do you?”
    NO.
    “Perhaps I’d better, you know, clean the place up a bit, get an inventory prepared, that sort of thing?”
    G OOD IDEA , said Death, as kindly as possible. W HEN I SEE THE NEW D EATH , I SHALL HEARTILY RECOMMEND YOU .
    “Oh. You’ll see him, then?”
    O H , YES . A ND I MUST LEAVE NOW .
    “What, so soon?”
    C ERTAINLY . M USTN’T WASTE T IME ! Death adjusted the saddle, and then turned and held the tiny hourglass proudly in front of Albert’s hooked nose.
    S EE ! I HAVE T IME . A T LAST , I HAVE T IME !
    Albert backed away nervously.
    “And now that you have it, what are you going to do with it?” he said.
    Death mounted his horse.
    I AM GOING TO SPEND IT .

    The party was in full swing. The banner with the legend “Goodebye Windle 130 Gloriouse Years” was drooping a bit in the heat. Things were