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PISTOSI   Well, that was quick, wasn’t it?

VELTIOSI   What was quick?

PISTOSI   Your life.

VELTIOSI  Maybe to you.

PISTOSI  Your life felt long to you?

VELTIOSI   Well, not really.

PISTOSI  Quick wasn’t it?

VELTIOSI  Too quick, I suppose.

PISTOSI  Who or what did this to you?

VELTIOSI  Not really sure. It was all dark.

PISTOSI   I wish I knew.

VELTIOSI  Why? You, Pistosi, would avenge me?

PISTOSI  I would.

VELTIOSI  I don’t believe it.

PISTOSI  I believe I would.

VELTIOSI  What is about to happen to me, Pistosi?

PISTOSI  You’re going to die.

VELTIOSI  I know that. What is going to happen after that?

PISTOSI  Well, if I consult the thoughts of the age, mind you this is being filtered by an immortal who has grown a bit disappointed with time … I believe that you are going to decay into impenetrable, indivisible things called atoms … a bit like unimaginably tiny and enduring pebbles … which will probably corrupt the soil and prevent anything else from growing in your spot ever again.

VELTIOSI  That’s not very comforting.

PISTOSI   If you wanted comforting, you should’ve befriended a mortal.

VELTIOSI  Indeed … Pistosi … will you bury me in a place where nothing would ever want to grow? I don’t want my death to cause trouble for some poppy plant.

PISTOSI  Absolutely. I will.

VELTIOSI  Promise?

PISTOSI Promise? Do you know that I’ve never done that before?

VELTIOSI  Just promise me. Mortals need poppies and promises.

PISTOSI  I promise. And, if it comforts you a little more, know that: I need poppies, too.

VELTIOSI  It does.