Soul Music

" Have you forgotten yet?" he said.

IT APPEARS I HAVE ONLY FORGOTTEN ONE THING.

"What's that? Hah, silly of me to ask really, seeing as you've forgotten–"

I HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO GET DRUNK.

The barman looked at the rows and rows of glasses. There were wine‑glasses. There were cocktail glasses. There were beer mugs. There were steins in the shape of jolly fat men. There was a bucket.

" I think you're on the right lines," he hazarded.

The stranger picked up his most recent glass and wandered over to the Barbarian Invaders machine.

It was made of clockwork of a complex and intricate design. There was a suggestion of many gears and worm drives in the big mahogany cabinet under the game, the whole function of which appeared to be to make rows of rather crudely carved Barbarian Invaders jerk and wobble across a rectangular proscenium. The player, by means of a system of levers and pulleys, operated a small self‑loading catapult that moved below the Invaders. This shot small pellets upwards. At the same time the Invaders (by means of a ratchet‑and‑pawl mechanism) dropped small metal arrows. Periodically a bell rang and an Invader on horseback oscillated hesitantly across the top of the game, dropping spears. The whole assemblage rattled and creaked continuously, partly because of all the machinery and partly because the orang‑utan was wrenching both handles, jumping up and down on the Fire pedal, and screaming at the top of his voice.

" I wouldn't have it in the place," said the barman behind him. "But it's popular with the customers, you see."

ONE CUSTOMER, ANYWAY.

"Well, it's better than the fruit machine, at least."

YES?

" He ate all the fruit."

There was a screech of rage from the direction of the machine.

The barman sighed. "You wouldn't think anyone'd make so much fuss over a penny, would you?"

The ape slammed a dollar coin on the counter and went away with two handfuls of change. One penny in a slot allowed a very large lever to be pulled; miraculously, all the Barbarians rose from the dead and began their wobbly invasion again.

" He poured his drink into it," said the barman. "It may be my imagination, but I think they're wobbling a bit more now."

Death watched the game for a while. It was one of the most depressing things he'd ever seen. The things were going to get down to the bottom of the game anyway. Why shoot things at them?

Why...?

He waved his glass at the assembled drinkers.

D'YOU. D'YOU. THING IS, D'YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE, EH, HAVING A MEMORY SO GOOD, RIGHT, SO GOOD YOU EVEN REMEMBER WHAT HASN'T HAPPENED YET? THAT'S ME. OH, YES. RIGHT ENOUGH. AS THOUGH. AS THOUGH. AS THOUGH THERE'S NO FUTURE... ONLY THE PAST THAT HASN'T HAPPENED YET. AND. AND. AND. YOU HAVE TO DO THINGS ANYWAY. YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN AND YOU HAVE TO DO THINGS.

He looked around at the faces. People in the Drum were used to alcoholic lectures, but not ones like this.

YOU SEE. YOU SHEE. YOU SEE STUFF LOOMING UP LIKE ICEBERG THINGS AHEAD BUT YOU MUSTN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT BECAUSE ‑BECAUSE BECAUSEITSALAW. CAN'T BREAK THE LAW. "SGOTABEALAW.

SEE THIS GLASS, RIGHT? SEE IT?"S LIKE MEMORY. ONNACOUNTA IF YOU PUT MORE STUFF IN, MORE STUFF FLOWS OUT, RIGHT?"S' FACT. EVERYONEGOTTA MEMORY LIKE THIS. "S'WHAT KEEPS HUMANS FROM GOING ISS‑ ISH‑ INSH‑ MAD. "CEPT ME. POOROLE ME. I REMEMBER EVERYTHING. AS IF IT HAPPENED ONLY TOMORROW. EVERYTHING.

He looked down at his drink.

AH, he said, FUNNY HOW THINGS COME BACK TO YOU, ISN'T IT?

It was the most impressive collapse the bar had ever seen. The tall dark stranger fell backwards slowly, like a tree. There was no cissy sagging of the knees, no cop‑out bouncing off a table on the way down. He simply went from vertical to horizontal in one marvellous geometric sweep.

Several people applauded as he hit the floor. Then they searched his pockets, or at least made an effort to search his pockets but couldn't find any. And then they threw him into the river.

In the giant black study of Death one candle burned, and got no shorter.

Susan leafed frantically through the books.

Life wasn't simple. She knew that; it was the Knowledge, which went with the job. There was the simple life of living things but that was, well... simple...

There were other kinds of life. Cities had life. Anthills and swarms of bees had life, a whole greater than the sum of the parts. Worlds had life. Gods had a life made up of the belief of their believers.

The universe danced towards life. Life was a remarkably common commodity. Anything sufficiently complicated seemed to get cut in for some, in the same way that anything massive enough got a generous helping of gravity. The universe had a definite tendency towards awareness. This suggested a certain subtle cruelty woven into the very fabric of space‑time. Perhaps even a music could be alive, if it was old enough. Life is a habit.

People said: I can't get that darn tune out of my head...

Not just a beat, but a heartbeat.