You’re going to die one day. Maybe it’ll be your fault, maybe it won’t. It’s not important. What’s important is this: do you want to keep on living? We’ll assume you answered “yes,” and it’s our pleasure to inform you that there’s a way to forfeit your ticket on that old black train, and (if you follow our instructions) you won’t be riding it for a very long time.
Once you meet your demise, you’ll find yourself on the front porch of an old, overgrown building. While it certainly isn’t your childhood home, you might find yourself convinced it is. A few of your most prized possessions will sit worn and forgotten inside the front windows, but all the entrances will be overgrown, and we advise against trying to go inside. (No one is ever really ready to see the memories of their life, and besides, you won’t be needing to worry about that just yet.) Death will approach you soon enough to guide you to your destination. When she does, repeat this statement: “I assert my right to prove my worth with a game.” Death has the power to raise an objection, but she never has—she seems to enjoy the play. She’ll indicate her acceptance by holding her sword horizontally, and it will be your responsibility to select the game.
Don’t choose chess. Chess is popular, but chess is fair, and if you think you’re looking for something fair, you must not have noticed the title of this pamphlet. There are a few guidelines we suggest following when making your choice: play a turn-based game, play a game you can talk during, and play a game with components of both luck and skill.
Let’s assume you (in accordance with our guidelines) choose to play double solitaire. Death already will have materialized her favorite wooden table and sat down. Be careful of her blade—she can be absentminded about where she sets it. Take your seat opposite her, nod respectfully, and shuffle. Try to chat while you do. We know she won’t have said anything yet, but we promise she’ll open up if you give her the chance. Try asking her about historical figures; we hear she has some wonderful stories about Nikola Tesla, and she’ll love sharing them almost as much as you’ll love hearing them. She likes collecting stories, so she’ll probably appreciate if you can provide an interesting one of your own.
Once she’s talking, ask her about herself. Ask how she’s been. She’s shy, so be gentle. You’ll notice her hands start to shake as she moves her cards, and she’ll start to hesitate on a few of her turns. Just be patient; no one has asked her about herself before. You should slow down to calm her nerves. She’ll appreciate that, but she probably won’t say so. Now talk a bit more. When she gets more nervous, slow down again. Soon you’ll feel the time between your moves drag out to minutes. This is good.
At this point, she’ll finally start talking about herself. Feel free to be inquisitive, but don’t ask about her boss; it’s a touchy subject. At first you’ll make conversation because we’re telling you to, but you’ll find yourself genuinely interested before long. She’s been alone for a long time, and everyone she’s ever met has feared or hated her. Your heart will ache as her voice trembles, and, at times, she’ll be completely distracted from the game.
Ask her if she’s okay. Tell her it’s okay if she’s not. We know you’ll worry it’ll come across as pity, but we promise it’s still the right thing to do. She’ll change the subject, and she’ll pick up the pace of her moves. This is also good.
Your job is nearly done. Don’t push things any further if she’s not ready for it. Let her lead the conversation. She’s going to play more thoughtfully, and you’re going to start losing. Don’t feel bad about that; she beats everyone. But, assuming you’ve done everything we’ve said, she’ll forfeit just a few moves before her victory.
The table will vanish, and you’ll be standing again. Death will congratulate you on your victory, and you should make sure to thank her for the game. She’ll touch the flat of her blade to your shoulder, and she’ll smile.
“Hopefully we can do this again sometime.”
You’re going to die one day, but not before you treat her to one more game.