Requiem for a Survivor
Requiem for a Survivor
Mortal Engines/Discworld
FR-T
Vignette, Drama
Seasons pass, snow falls; the Stalker Shrike survives. He always survives. Deep in hibernation, the seasons pass like the hours in a day, the sun flickering across the sky.
Suddenly, the sun stands still; snow hangs in the air.
“SO,” Shrike says. “IT IS THAT TIME AGAIN.”
YES. The skeletal figure stalks over to stand in front of Shrike. IT IS THAT TIME.
Shrike raises his head. The joints of his neck are stiff with the accumulated dust and corrosion of centuries. “I NEVER KNOW,” he admits. “IF I AM DOING THIS SLOWLY, OR FAST. ITSEEMS TO TAKE SO LONG, BUT THE SNOW DOESN’T FALL WHILE I’M DOING IT.” At last, his burning green eyes meet the sapphire stars which flare within the sockets of Death’s skull and hold them, as no mortal ever could. “WHICH IS IT?” he asks. “SLOW, OR FAST.”
Death thinks for a moment before answering. YES.
“I SEE.”
YOU KNOW WHY I AM HERE?
“I KNOW,” Shrike agrees, “BUT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I AM NOT DEAD.”
TRUE, Death allowed, BUT YOU ARE CLOSE, AND OF COURSE YOU HAVE DIED BEFORE. TWICE, IN FACT. ONCE UPON THE OPERATING TABLE OF THE LAZARUS BRIGADE AND ONCE UPON THE WORD OF TOM NATSWORTHY. SO YOU SEE, YOUR CASE AS A WHOLE IS MOST IRREGULAR.
“I APOLOGISE IF I HAVE GIVEN ANY TROUBLE.”
FORTUNATELY I AM MORE OR LESS MY OWN BOSS. I HAVE LITTLE PAPERWORK TO CONCERN ME. ONTOLOGICAL INERTIA HAS LITTLE NEED FOR VALIDATION.
Shrike gives a slow, grinding nod.
THEREFORE, I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU A CHOICE, Death explained. YOU MAY CHOOSE TO DIE.
“I SEE,” Shrike acknowledges. “AND IF I CHOOSE NOT TO DIE?”
THEN WE HAVE NO BUSINESS TOGETHER, Death assured him. I DO NOT KILL.
With a shriek of rusted joints, Shrike lifts his arm to point at a low mound not far from him. “WHAT ABOUT THEM?” he asks. “ARE THEY REMEMBERED?”
Death turns and looks at the mound. A thorn bush grows across the mound, and despite the cold weather a single, dark flower is blooming on its branches. IT HAS BEEN MANY YEARS, he said.
“ARE THEY FORGOTTEN THEN?”
ODIN IS REMEMBERED. THE TRAKTIONSTADTSGESELLSCHAFT AND THE GREEN STORM, AND THE WAR BETWEEN THEM ARE REMEMBERED.
THEIR NAMES ARE NOT SPOKEN, HOWEVER, Death replies. WHEN I AM DONE HERE, HOWEVER, I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH ONE OF THEIRS. A GREAT-GRANDMOTHER OF EIGHTY-NINE. I HAVE GATEHRED THEIR CHILDREN AND THEIR GRANDCHILDREN AND DESCENDENTS WITHOUT NUMBER ACROSS EVERY CONTINENT OF THE WORLD, he goes on. IN THAT WAY, THEY WILL LIVE AS LONG AS THEIR RACE SURVIVES.
“BUT THE RACE SURVIVES ONLY BECAUSE OF THEM,” Shrike argues. “THAT OUGHT NOT TO BE FORGOTTEN.”
Death turns his head thoughtfully. IT IS NOT ONLY BECAUSE OF THEM THAT HUMANITY SURVIVES. THERE HAVE BEEN… MANY OTHER NEAR EXTINCTIONS. HOWEVER, YOU ARE CORRECT THAT HERE THEY SAVED THE WORLD.
He pauses. IF IT HELPS, I SHALL ALWAYS REMEMBER THEM. I REMEMBER EVERYONE.
Shrike shakes his head. “THEY MUST BE REMEMBERED. ALL OF THEM. TOM NATSWORTHY.WREN NATSWORTHY. THEO NGONI. OENONE ZERO. ANNA FANG. He hesitates for a moment before adding: “HESTHER SHAW.”
Very deliberately, he settles back into his original posture. “I WILL STAY,” he decides, “AND REMEMBER.”
VERY WELL, Death agrees. WE MAY MEET AGAIN.
“I WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND,” Shrike assures him.
NONETHELESS, YOU DESERVE THE CHOICE.
“THANK YOU FOR THAT,” Shrike says. “I HAVE NOT OFTEN BEEN GIVEN A…”
He stops, realising that Death has departed. The snow begins to fall and the sun resumes its course, and Shrike sleeps on.
Surviving.
Shrike was created by Philip Reeve, Death by Terry Pratchett. Death is such a gift for crossover.
Mortal Engines/Discworld
FR-T
Vignette, Drama
Seasons pass, snow falls; the Stalker Shrike survives. He always survives. Deep in hibernation, the seasons pass like the hours in a day, the sun flickering across the sky.
Suddenly, the sun stands still; snow hangs in the air.
“SO,” Shrike says. “IT IS THAT TIME AGAIN.”
YES. The skeletal figure stalks over to stand in front of Shrike. IT IS THAT TIME.
Shrike raises his head. The joints of his neck are stiff with the accumulated dust and corrosion of centuries. “I NEVER KNOW,” he admits. “IF I AM DOING THIS SLOWLY, OR FAST. ITSEEMS TO TAKE SO LONG, BUT THE SNOW DOESN’T FALL WHILE I’M DOING IT.” At last, his burning green eyes meet the sapphire stars which flare within the sockets of Death’s skull and hold them, as no mortal ever could. “WHICH IS IT?” he asks. “SLOW, OR FAST.”
Death thinks for a moment before answering. YES.
“I SEE.”
YOU KNOW WHY I AM HERE?
“I KNOW,” Shrike agrees, “BUT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I AM NOT DEAD.”
TRUE, Death allowed, BUT YOU ARE CLOSE, AND OF COURSE YOU HAVE DIED BEFORE. TWICE, IN FACT. ONCE UPON THE OPERATING TABLE OF THE LAZARUS BRIGADE AND ONCE UPON THE WORD OF TOM NATSWORTHY. SO YOU SEE, YOUR CASE AS A WHOLE IS MOST IRREGULAR.
“I APOLOGISE IF I HAVE GIVEN ANY TROUBLE.”
FORTUNATELY I AM MORE OR LESS MY OWN BOSS. I HAVE LITTLE PAPERWORK TO CONCERN ME. ONTOLOGICAL INERTIA HAS LITTLE NEED FOR VALIDATION.
Shrike gives a slow, grinding nod.
THEREFORE, I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU A CHOICE, Death explained. YOU MAY CHOOSE TO DIE.
“I SEE,” Shrike acknowledges. “AND IF I CHOOSE NOT TO DIE?”
THEN WE HAVE NO BUSINESS TOGETHER, Death assured him. I DO NOT KILL.
With a shriek of rusted joints, Shrike lifts his arm to point at a low mound not far from him. “WHAT ABOUT THEM?” he asks. “ARE THEY REMEMBERED?”
Death turns and looks at the mound. A thorn bush grows across the mound, and despite the cold weather a single, dark flower is blooming on its branches. IT HAS BEEN MANY YEARS, he said.
“ARE THEY FORGOTTEN THEN?”
ODIN IS REMEMBERED. THE TRAKTIONSTADTSGESELLSCHAFT AND THE GREEN STORM, AND THE WAR BETWEEN THEM ARE REMEMBERED.
THEIR NAMES ARE NOT SPOKEN, HOWEVER, Death replies. WHEN I AM DONE HERE, HOWEVER, I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH ONE OF THEIRS. A GREAT-GRANDMOTHER OF EIGHTY-NINE. I HAVE GATEHRED THEIR CHILDREN AND THEIR GRANDCHILDREN AND DESCENDENTS WITHOUT NUMBER ACROSS EVERY CONTINENT OF THE WORLD, he goes on. IN THAT WAY, THEY WILL LIVE AS LONG AS THEIR RACE SURVIVES.
“BUT THE RACE SURVIVES ONLY BECAUSE OF THEM,” Shrike argues. “THAT OUGHT NOT TO BE FORGOTTEN.”
Death turns his head thoughtfully. IT IS NOT ONLY BECAUSE OF THEM THAT HUMANITY SURVIVES. THERE HAVE BEEN… MANY OTHER NEAR EXTINCTIONS. HOWEVER, YOU ARE CORRECT THAT HERE THEY SAVED THE WORLD.
He pauses. IF IT HELPS, I SHALL ALWAYS REMEMBER THEM. I REMEMBER EVERYONE.
Shrike shakes his head. “THEY MUST BE REMEMBERED. ALL OF THEM. TOM NATSWORTHY.WREN NATSWORTHY. THEO NGONI. OENONE ZERO. ANNA FANG. He hesitates for a moment before adding: “HESTHER SHAW.”
Very deliberately, he settles back into his original posture. “I WILL STAY,” he decides, “AND REMEMBER.”
VERY WELL, Death agrees. WE MAY MEET AGAIN.
“I WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND,” Shrike assures him.
NONETHELESS, YOU DESERVE THE CHOICE.
“THANK YOU FOR THAT,” Shrike says. “I HAVE NOT OFTEN BEEN GIVEN A…”
He stops, realising that Death has departed. The snow begins to fall and the sun resumes its course, and Shrike sleeps on.
Surviving.
Shrike was created by Philip Reeve, Death by Terry Pratchett. Death is such a gift for crossover.