Someone was in the room. He knew who it was. He had been expecting the visitor for a long time now. He opened his eyes, waited for them to adjust to the gloom. Death wasn't like he/she was supposed to be. No scythe, no Grim Reaper's paraphernalia. Death looked like a FedEx employee, with a dark slate grey uniform, a cap, an embroidered logotype on the chest and an ominous-looking device with little red and green diodes blinking wildly. Or was this one of these overused heaven & hell satires, featuring overbooked businesslike angels running around in white suits? Death looked at him gently, sweet black eyes in a round, childish face. "Hello, your time's up, Pops", he (since this was apparently a "he") merrily said, "You're all prepared, aren't you ?". Pops nodded a breathless Yes. "I'll take your credit card, then", said Death, "You can give it to me or you can show me where it is if you feel too weak". Pops gasped. "don't... have... a... credit card", he managed to say, "didn't know... you had to pay for that... these days". Death seemed slightly bored, as if he had been there before, which was probably the case. "Oh I see, you didn't know. Do not panic, it's very common. You're an old man and you haven't been reading the papers recently, have you ? OK, let me explain it to you. We've been privatised. Death as a public service has been dismantled and the job given to private operators. Lots of them. It's a business now. I'm not saying it's a good thing, but in many ways it really is. Believe me, for a very small fee you are entitled to a much better service. Just take the issue of suffering, for instance. We, at APS, can guarantee a totally painless passing on. And an incredibly fast one. We're already ISO- certified, something the competition is still working on. We are way ahead, Pops, just think about that." Death looked too excited, the sales pitch was clicking in. Death blushed. Death tried to calm himself down. "Of course, according to official DAA procedures, I have to provide you with our competitors' toll-free numbers, would you decline to use our services. And if you're proved mentally unfit to choose one, I'll redirect you to one of the smaller operators, free of charge. But since you seem lucky enough to be mentally fit, you can choose your provider, and choose the best. If I may repeat myself, our price is very moderate and our service is top quality." Pops was snoring loudly now, his mouth open. Death sighed, the salesman's aplomb suddenly gone from his face and replaced by a wan expression that could have been construed as simple humane compassion. Death pulled a chair, sat down by the bed, and started punching numbers on the device. "Old people", he muttered, "they just don't