How To Be Dead

Chapter One

Death watched the city sleep.

He gazed down at humanity's glow from the top floor of the office block. A sleek and thrusting tower made from glass, chrome and undisguised wealth.

He was waiting. He was good at that.

He checked his pocket watch. A gift from three old friends. Crafted for him by Patek Philippe & Company in 1933 with a movement as complicated and precise as the dance of the stars that he had counted for millennia.

Sometimes, as he gazed up at the night sky, he wondered if the universe was some kind of in-joke that had got out of hand and was working up to an awkward punchline. He had explained his theory when he and Einstein had briefly met. Nice guy. Good hair. That was back in 1955 and Death had not seen anything since to change his mind.

He did not know how long he had existed. He thought he remembered the dinosaurs. An asteroid killed them, hadn't it? Was he there? Or had he merely read it in a book? All he was sure of? It's the sort of thing that happens when you live in a world without Bruce Willis.

Then humanity arrived. They loved. They fought. They died.

He had seen the worst that they could do, but he had also witnessed them at their finest and he loved them for it. Their compassion. Their bravery. Their wisdom. The Billy Joel album 'An Innocent Man'. Cake.

Especially the cake.

He took his mobile phone from the folds of his cloak and dialled the only number in his contacts.

'Did I wake you, Anne?' The groan at the other end of the phone answered his question. 'Who would win in a fight between Bruce Willis and Billy Joel? I mean, Billy Joel used to be a professional boxer. I think he'd be a bit tasty.'

'No, I don't know who would win, but the fact that we're even discussing this at half past two in the morning means I'm pretty sure I know who the losers are here. What do you want?'

'Today is the day. Are we sure he is the one?'

'You should know that Death isn't allowed to doubt.'

'Are we sure?'

'Yes.' Anne sighed.

'There are portentous skies. I haven't seen them like this since Beezelbub was defeated.'

'I'm sorry. Who?' Anne stifled a giggle.

'Satan. Lucifer. Beezelbub.'

'You mean Beelzebub?'

'Yes. Beezelbub.'

'Repeat after me,' she said. 'Bee.'

'Bee.'

'Ell.'

'Ell.'

'Zee.'

'Zee.'

'Bub.'

'Bub.'

'Beelzebub.'

'That's what I said. Beez-el-bub.'

'You're an idiot,' she said. 'Shouldn't you be working?'

'I will be. Stockbroker. Heart attack. Another one who'll tell me how much he regretted spending so much time here. They never bloody learn.'

'How are you going to play it?'

Death drummed his fingers against the window, considered his options. 'Old school, I think.'

He heard a thump from the office next door. 'I have to go. You should get some sleep.'

'Do you think?'

'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.'

'Oh, is it now?' asked Anne, sarcastically.

'Touché.'

Death switched the phone off and looked again at the infinite blackness. This was all created from stardust, born in the furnace of a long dead sun. Humanity. Earth. The city below. The stapler on the mahogany desk. One day, the sun would expand beyond the realms of the inner planets and consume it all in its burning belly. Which was a shame. It really was a very nice mahogany desk.

He glided through the wall into the equally splendid office next door. A well dressed, yet confused, middle-aged man looked down at his own limp body.

The dark figure stood in front of him and whispered three little words.

'I. Am. Death.'