She is sitting on the soft grass, near my rock, looking up at me. I love my rock. It is too hard for her, too high. Time to tell her.
“We are going to a place high up in the mountains. Pay attention on the way, for I shall not be coming back with you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m very old, and I am going to die”.
“What do you want me to do?”
“When we reach the chosen spot, I shall lie down at the edge of a precipice. Once I’m dead, I want you to give my body a gentle push. I am not afraid to die, but don’t want my body to lie at the mercy of the vultures. I do not wish to waste a single moment of precious life by jumping too soon. With your help, I can wonder at the world’s beauty till the last moment, safe in the knowledge that you will accomplish the final act I cannot accomplish for myself.”
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
“You will. When you see vultures hovering overhead, to save my lifeless flesh from their merciless beaks, you will give my body impetus it needs to disappear.”
“What if you can’t speak, but are not dead?”
“I’ll reply with my eyes, or make a sign with my hand.”
“And if you are paralyzed, your eyes stuck shut, can hear my questions but cannot answer me?”
“If I have not a single means of making my non-death evident then that is the state in which you are to push my body over.”
“I can’t get it to feel like help. It doesn’t feel like a good thing to do.”
“Helping is usually associated with living, not dying. But we can’t help people to live. We can only help each other to die in peace.”
“I’ll never find anybody like you again. You trust me. I’ll be alone,” she sobs.
We climb a steep path most of the morning, making slow progress. The path eventually enters a wood. We gather nuts, then sit down beside a clear stream.
We follow the stream. When we emerge from the wood, the sun is dazzling. The air is very still.
“It’s like another world up here.”
“There is no noise from the valley. If we cried out, we wouldn’t be heard. Only the birds can hear us.”
“This is their world.”
We walk on, the silence broken only by birdsong. Then it starts to rain. We shelter under an outlying rock. She is no longer afraid.
When the rain stops, we step out of our shelter, all the suppleness gone from my movements. It occurs to me that I might not make it to the spot.
“Is the precipice very high?”
“Yes.”
“What’s at the bottom?”
“Rock.”
“Your body will be smashed.”
“Yes, but I’ll be dead.”
“You would be dead to the vultures, too.”
“I don’t want my body to be tampered with after I’m dead, not even to feed the vultures. I want it to disappear without a trace.”
“That’s selfish.”
“If you can find a less selfish idea, build your peace of mind around it. I don’t have time to change my plans. It would take too long to work out another satisfactory way of going.”
“Why not just let it take you by surprise? I won’t think of death, not once.”
“Nobody chooses to think about death. It grows inside you, the feeling that one day you won’t be part of the world.”
We are now very close to my spot.
“Can we make the questions up now?
“If you like. Let’s take five simple ones.”
1. Where are you?
2. Can you hear me?
3. Are you dead?
4. Why don’t you answer me?
5. Have you reached the bottom?
The spot is breathtakingly beautiful.
“I have one last question to ask, before you go. Should I do it quickly, or take my time?”
“You never gain anything from speed, except when you are in real danger. Most dangers are imaginary.”
We cross the grass towards the edge. I am glad to have made it. I lie down and die, my mind leaving my body altogether, hovering up and up, disappearing over the top of the mountain, free.
He lies down on the grass. A peaceful expression on his face.
“Are you dead?”
“Who are you?”
“Are you ready?”
“Do you want me to push you now?”
“Why me?”
I give the body a gentle push and it slips over the edge. I do not hear it hitting the bottom. I peer over the cliff. Can’t see the body. Forgot to wait for the vultures! An eagle soars towards the mountain top, silently, but there are no vultures in sight. Something brushes my hand. Only an ant, but this place feels suddenly creepy. Downhill, without the old man slowing me down, I’ll make good time. Home by nightfall, if I hurry.
* *
He is wearing a sunhat. My skin is wrinkled, nut brown. The raft bobs up and down on the waves. The rope jerks the raft with each wave, the price of staying in the same place. Time to tell him.
“In a short time, I have to go away. I want you to help me.”
He doesn’t react.
“I want to die here, attached to this shore, then float out to sea on the whim of the tide. You go ashore. I lie down on the raft. Once I am dead, you untie the rope and let me float away.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“No. The raft isn’t going anywhere. You must stay here. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“How will I know when you’re dead?”
“Ask me a question. If I don’t answer it, you’ll know I’m dead.”
“What if you don’t know the answer?”
“I’ll say ‘I don’t know the answer’”.
“What kind of question?”
“Any question.”
“Will you come back?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s like going on a long journey you don’t come back from.”
“Then you’ll write?”
“I won’t be able to write.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life, but I don’t want to die, ever.”
“You won’t die for a long time yet. But the only thing we can know for sure is that you will, one day. In that one fact human beings are equal.”
“Did you help someone when you were my age?”
“Yes”.
“What did you do?”
“Pushed his body off a cliff.”
“Doesn’t sound like helping to me.”
“It was what he wanted.”
“Were you afraid to push?”
“I thought I would be, but I actually enjoyed it. I felt guilty, though, because I forgot to wait for the vultures.”
“Did you miss him once he was gone?”
“Not as much as I thought I would. I even began to doubt that he had ever existed.”
“Stay longer, so I can be sure you exist.”
“It wouldn’t change anything. It is the last moment that counts. Step ashore now.”
He skips ashore. I am a bit hurt that he is not sad at my parting. I lie down on my raft and peacefully expire, floating freely on the tide until, out to sea.
How long should I wait? She looks pretty dead. I pop the question.
“Are you happy to be going?”
Nothing moves. I am not convinced. I repeat the question, louder, maybe she can’t hear me for the waves, maybe she’s asleep, I shout at the top of my voice, aggressively, inquisitively, kindly, until it feels just right,
“Are you happy to be going?”
There is no answer.
I untie the rope and throw it into the water. The raft floats off to sea, lapped by the waves. It drifts further and further away until it becomes a tiny dot. The sun hurts my eyes with all this looking, but I can’t turn away until it has disappeared completely, but is it that speck there, or that other speck, over there? I walk away, looking back over my shoulder, seeing specks, wondering if they are an old woman on a raft, or just specks. Every time I go to the coast I shall have the same doubt.
* *
She is playing in the sand. My kite is tethered nearby. It was a devil to make. I approach her quietly, in case I frighten her. I’m not very pleasant to look at. She smiles as I approach.
“Hello.”
“Hello. What are you doing?”
“I’m playing with the sand. It’s hot on the top, cool underneath. What’s sand made of?”
“It’s made of rocks ground into tiny particles. They sparkle. Different colours come from different rocks.”
“Some people have hair like that. Every hair is a different colour, but seen from far away it looks one colour. Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“That doesn’t matter. We can be friends for a while, then I’ll have to go.”
“Where?”
“Up into the sky.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m very old. I have to die soon.”
“When?”
“Quite soon. I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Oh, yes, I’d love to.”
“I have built myself a huge kite. Can you see it over there?”
“Oh, it’s like a huge butterfly.”
“I want to get onto it and die. When I’m quite dead, I want you to untie the rope and let me float free. Would you do that?”
“Yes, but how will I know when you’re dead?”
“You must wait for a while, and ask me a question. If I don’t answer your question, then I’ll be dead.”
“What kind of question?”
“Any question, as long as it’s your question, otherwise I may think it’s a voice inside my head.”
“Does everybody need help to die?”
“Nobody wants to die alone.”
“Some people can’t even play on their own.”
“I have to go now, will you remember what I said?”
“Every word.”
I climb up onto my kite, fix my limbs into position, and gently expire, soaring up, leaving the earth behind.
Such a strange old man. Now, I have to think of a question. Found it. If he’s not dead, he’ll know the answer, up on his kite.
“Why is the sky so high?”
No reply. I untie the rope. He starts to float up, and up, I can hardly see him now, I can see the kite, dancing up towards the clouds, over there, higher up, smaller, and... disappeared again. There it is, how did it get over there so quickly, the wind must be strong. I shout up at him.
“Goodbye, old man. Thank you for playing with me.”
* *
“Bang! You’re dead!”
I clutch my side, and fall to the ground, moaning. I wish I could take that toy away from him. He turns it towards the sky and kills several extra-terrestrials attacking the earth.
“Why did you shoot down those spaceships?”
“Their aim is to destroy our planet, because we broke the Galactic code, which we didn’t know existed.”
“I have to go away soon.”
“Well, goodbye.”
“Not immediately. I want you to help me.”
“Yes. Everybody wants me to help them. Nobody ever tries to help me, I’m only a child, you know, but I have to get on with it.”
“If you help me, someone will help you someday.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I have built myself a super-duper tomb, like a pyramid; but smaller. It’s propped up and suspended at an angle, ready to fall into place if someone pulls out a small stick. I want to die in the open air, but once I’m dead, I want my body to be locked forever in the pyramid. I’ll lie down inside, and all you have to do is pull out the stick.”
“Why not stay out in the open air?”
“I spent a long time building this thing to spend my death in. I collected some beautiful materials. When people see it, they’ll think ‘What a nice pyramid’.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to be in it. Pull the stick away yourself, and go die elsewhere.”
“I haven’t got time to go elsewhere; I’m going to die soon.”
“Are you ill?”
“No, just old. Come, I’ll show you my pyramid.”
A couple coming down the path with their dog wave hello to us. We wave back. We leave the path, and walk to the deserted spot I built my tomb in.
“Oh! It’s great. Not like a pyramid at all, really modern looking.”
“The latest materials, but the idea is the same.”
“Pyramids are huge.”
“When built by slaves. I built this one myself.”
“Was it difficult?”
“At times it seemed impossible. I almost gave up.”
“Can I look inside?”
“Go ahead.”
As long as he does not touch the stick, he is in no danger. He can wander about freely inside. I guard the stick, a bit anxious. He shouts, listens to his echo, lies down on the rug placed in the centre.
“Quite comfy.”
He comes out smiling. Does he understand I’m dying?
“Well, now I’ll get onto my rug. You wait a while, then ask me a question. If I don’t answer, I’ll be dead. When you are sure I’m dead, pull the stick, quickly, careful not to get your hand trapped. The whole thing will slide into place. O.K.?”
“I’m really glad I can help you, we should always try to help people whenever we can. Otherwise, there’s nothing but emptiness and falling into a void, with nothing to hold onto.”
“Hold out your hand to someone and you stop falling.”
“I’ve found a question.”
“I knew you would. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
I lie down in the shade of my pyramidal canopy. I can see bright sunshine to the right and left of me, beyond the shadow of my tomb. The canopy slips into place, sealing my body off from the world.
She looks dead. She’ll nShe is sitting on the soft grass, near my rock, looking up at me. I love my rock. It is too hard for her, too high. Time to tell her.
“We are going to a place high up in the mountains. Pay attention on the way, for I shall not be coming back with you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m very old, and I am going to die”.
“What do you want me to do?”
“When we reach the chosen spot, I shall lie down at the edge of a precipice. Once I’m dead, I want you to give my body a gentle push. I am not afraid to die, but don’t want my body to lie at the mercy of the vultures. I do not wish to waste a single moment of precious life by jumping too soon. With your help, I can wonder at the world’s beauty till the last moment, safe in the knowledge that you will accomplish the final act I cannot accomplish for myself.”
“I’m not sure I can do it.”
“You will. When you see vultures hovering overhead, to save my lifeless flesh from their merciless beaks, you will give my body impetus it needs to disappear.”
“What if you can’t speak, but are not dead?”
“I’ll reply with my eyes, or make a sign with my hand.”
“And if you are paralyzed, your eyes stuck shut, can hear my questions but cannot answer me?”
“If I have not a single means of making my non-death evident then that is the state in which you are to push my body over.”
“I can’t get it to feel like help. It doesn’t feel like a good thing to do.”
“Helping is usually associated with living, not dying. But we can’t help people to live. We can only help each other to die in peace.”
“I’ll never find anybody like you again. You trust me. I’ll be alone,” she sobs.
We climb a steep path most of the morning, making slow progress. The path eventually enters a wood. We gather nuts, then sit down beside a clear stream.
We follow the stream. When we emerge from the wood, the sun is dazzling. The air is very still.
“It’s like another world up here.”
“There is no noise from the valley. If we cried out, we wouldn’t be heard. Only the birds can hear us.”
“This is their world.”
We walk on, the silence broken only by birdsong. Then it starts to rain. We shelter under an outlying rock. She is no longer afraid.
When the rain stops, we step out of our shelter, all the suppleness gone from my movements. It occurs to me that I might not make it to the spot.
“Is the precipice very high?”
“Yes.”
“What’s at the bottom?”
“Rock.”
“Your body will be smashed.”
“Yes, but I’ll be dead.”
“You would be dead to the vultures, too.”
“I don’t want my body to be tampered with after I’m dead, not even to feed the vultures. I want it to disappear without a trace.”
“That’s selfish.”
“If you can find a less selfish idea, build your peace of mind around it. I don’t have time to change my plans. It would take too long to work out another satisfactory way of going.”
“Why not just let it take you by surprise? I won’t think of death, not once.”
“Nobody chooses to think about death. It grows inside you, the feeling that one day you won’t be part of the world.”
We are now very close to my spot.
“Can we make the questions up now?
“If you like. Let’s take five simple ones.”
1. Where are you?
2. Can you hear me?
3. Are you dead?
4. Why don’t you answer me?
5. Have you reached the bottom?
The spot is breathtakingly beautiful.
“I have one last question to ask, before you go. Should I do it quickly, or take my time?”
“You never gain anything from speed, except when you are in real danger. Most dangers are imaginary.”
We cross the grass towards the edge. I am glad to have made it. I lie down and die, my mind leaving my body altogether, hovering up and up, disappearing over the top of the mountain, free.
He lies down on the grass. A peaceful expression on his face.
“Are you dead?”
“Who are you?”
“Are you ready?”
“Do you want me to push you now?”
“Why me?”
I give the body a gentle push and it slips over the edge. I do not hear it hitting the bottom. I peer over the cliff. Can’t see the body. Forgot to wait for the vultures! An eagle soars towards the mountain top, silently, but there are no vultures in sight. Something brushes my hand. Only an ant, but this place feels suddenly creepy. Downhill, without the old man slowing me down, I’ll make good time. Home by nightfall, if I hurry.
* *
He is wearing a sunhat. My skin is wrinkled, nut brown. The raft bobs up and down on the waves. The rope jerks the raft with each wave, the price of staying in the same place. Time to tell him.
“In a short time, I have to go away. I want you to help me.”
He doesn’t react.
“I want to die here, attached to this shore, then float out to sea on the whim of the tide. You go ashore. I lie down on the raft. Once I am dead, you untie the rope and let me float away.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“No. The raft isn’t going anywhere. You must stay here. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“How will I know when you’re dead?”
“Ask me a question. If I don’t answer it, you’ll know I’m dead.”
“What if you don’t know the answer?”
“I’ll say ‘I don’t know the answer’”.
“What kind of question?”
“Any question.”
“Will you come back?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s like going on a long journey you don’t come back from.”
“Then you’ll write?”
“I won’t be able to write.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life, but I don’t want to die, ever.”
“You won’t die for a long time yet. But the only thing we can know for sure is that you will, one day. In that one fact human beings are equal.”
“Did you help someone when you were my age?”
“Yes”.
“What did you do?”
“Pushed his body off a cliff.”
“Doesn’t sound like helping to me.”
“It was what he wanted.”
“Were you afraid to push?”
“I thought I would be, but I actually enjoyed it. I felt guilty, though, because I forgot to wait for the vultures.”
“Did you miss him once he was gone?”
“Not as much as I thought I would. I even began to doubt that he had ever existed.”
“Stay longer, so I can be sure you exist.”
“It wouldn’t change anything. It is the last moment that counts. Step ashore now.”
He skips ashore. I am a bit hurt that he is not sad at my parting. I lie down on my raft and peacefully expire, floating freely on the tide until, out to sea.
How long should I wait? She looks pretty dead. I pop the question.
“Are you happy to be going?”
Nothing moves. I am not convinced. I repeat the question, louder, maybe she can’t hear me for the waves, maybe she’s asleep, I shout at the top of my voice, aggressively, inquisitively, kindly, until it feels just right,
“Are you happy to be going?”
There is no answer.
I untie the rope and throw it into the water. The raft floats off to sea, lapped by the waves. It drifts further and further away until it becomes a tiny dot. The sun hurts my eyes with all this looking, but I can’t turn away until it has disappeared completely, but is it that speck there, or that other speck, over there? I walk away, looking back over my shoulder, seeing specks, wondering if they are an old woman on a raft, or just specks. Every time I go to the coast I shall have the same doubt.
* *
She is playing in the sand. My kite is tethered nearby. It was a devil to make. I approach her quietly, in case I frighten her. I’m not very pleasant to look at. She smiles as I approach.
“Hello.”
“Hello. What are you doing?”
“I’m playing with the sand. It’s hot on the top, cool underneath. What’s sand made of?”
“It’s made of rocks ground into tiny particles. They sparkle. Different colours come from different rocks.”
“Some people have hair like that. Every hair is a different colour, but seen from far away it looks one colour. Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“That doesn’t matter. We can be friends for a while, then I’ll have to go.”
“Where?”
“Up into the sky.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m very old. I have to die soon.”
“When?”
“Quite soon. I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Oh, yes, I’d love to.”
“I have built myself a huge kite. Can you see it over there?”
“Oh, it’s like a huge butterfly.”
“I want to get onto it and die. When I’m quite dead, I want you to untie the rope and let me float free. Would you do that?”
“Yes, but how will I know when you’re dead?”
“You must wait for a while, and ask me a question. If I don’t answer your question, then I’ll be dead.”
“What kind of question?”
“Any question, as long as it’s your question, otherwise I may think it’s a voice inside my head.”
“Does everybody need help to die?”
“Nobody wants to die alone.”
“Some people can’t even play on their own.”
“I have to go now, will you remember what I said?”
“Every word.”
I climb up onto my kite, fix my limbs into position, and gently expire, soaring up, leaving the earth behind.
Such a strange old man. Now, I have to think of a question. Found it. If he’s not dead, he’ll know the answer, up on his kite.
“Why is the sky so high?”
No reply. I untie the rope. He starts to float up, and up, I can hardly see him now, I can see the kite, dancing up towards the clouds, over there, higher up, smaller, and... disappeared again. There it is, how did it get over there so quickly, the wind must be strong. I shout up at him.
“Goodbye, old man. Thank you for playing with me.”
* *
“Bang! You’re dead!”
I clutch my side, and fall to the ground, moaning. I wish I could take that toy away from him. He turns it towards the sky and kills several extra-terrestrials attacking the earth.
“Why did you shoot down those spaceships?”
“Their aim is to destroy our planet, because we broke the Galactic code, which we didn’t know existed.”
“I have to go away soon.”
“Well, goodbye.”
“Not immediately. I want you to help me.”
“Yes. Everybody wants me to help them. Nobody ever tries to help me, I’m only a child, you know, but I have to get on with it.”
“If you help me, someone will help you someday.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I have built myself a super-duper tomb, like a pyramid; but smaller. It’s propped up and suspended at an angle, ready to fall into place if someone pulls out a small stick. I want to die in the open air, but once I’m dead, I want my body to be locked forever in the pyramid. I’ll lie down inside, and all you have to do is pull out the stick.”
“Why not stay out in the open air?”
“I spent a long time building this thing to spend my death in. I collected some beautiful materials. When people see it, they’ll think ‘What a nice pyramid’.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to be in it. Pull the stick away yourself, and go die elsewhere.”
“I haven’t got time to go elsewhere; I’m going to die soon.”
“Are you ill?”
“No, just old. Come, I’ll show you my pyramid.”
A couple coming down the path with their dog wave hello to us. We wave back. We leave the path, and walk to the deserted spot I built my tomb in.
“Oh! It’s great. Not like a pyramid at all, really modern looking.”
“The latest materials, but the idea is the same.”
“Pyramids are huge.”
“When built by slaves. I built this one myself.”
“Was it difficult?”
“At times it seemed impossible. I almost gave up.”
“Can I look inside?”
“Go ahead.”
As long as he does not touch the stick, he is in no danger. He can wander about freely inside. I guard the stick, a bit anxious. He shouts, listens to his echo, lies down on the rug placed in the centre.
“Quite comfy.”
He comes out smiling. Does he understand I’m dying?
“Well, now I’ll get onto my rug. You wait a while, then ask me a question. If I don’t answer, I’ll be dead. When you are sure I’m dead, pull the stick, quickly, careful not to get your hand trapped. The whole thing will slide into place. O.K.?”
“I’m really glad I can help you, we should always try to help people whenever we can. Otherwise, there’s nothing but emptiness and falling into a void, with nothing to hold onto.”
“Hold out your hand to someone and you stop falling.”
“I’ve found a question.”
“I knew you would. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
I lie down in the shade of my pyramidal canopy. I can see bright sunshine to the right and left of me, beyond the shadow of my tomb. The canopy slips into place, sealing my body off from the world.
She looks dead. She’ll never guess the answer:
“What did the spider say to the elephant?”
No answer. Must be dead. Careful pulling out the stick. One, two, three, there! Oh, it worked. Wonder how she arranged it? I expected it to smash to pieces when I pulled out that stick. She’ll never be disturbed, in there.
“Spiders can’t talk, stupid!”
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