– Ulazi. Ulazi, Van Der Graafe, da ja ne moram doći po tebe – tiho zaškripe njena užasna usta. – Znaš li tko sam ja? – upita, a Van Der Graaf pogleda uprtog u pod odgovori:

– Znam. Ti si Smrt.

– Da. Ja sam Smrt, a ovo je dizalo za gubilište – zaokruži Smrt koštunjavom rukom prostor oko sebe.

– Znam, – reče Van Der Graaf pogleda i dalje uprtog u pod – gledao sam film Lift za gubilište, to je sa Jeanne Moreau, gledao sam ga davno dok sam još bio mlad, dok još nisam znao da je film istina, a život tek izmišljena celuloidna iluzija.

– Da – kao jeka ponovi Smrt – gledao si taj film. I ja sam ga gledala.

– A jesi li gledala Ingmar Bergmanov Sedmi pečat? – upita Van Der Graaf Smrt.

– 1 taj sam film gledala!

– Vidim da si filmofil! – pridigne naglo on glavu i pogleda Smrti u oči, u te prazne duplje jezive lubanje. – Čini mi se, ako se dobro sjećam, u tom filmu neki vitez igra s tobom šah, a kao zalog stavlja svoj život. Pobijedi li te, ti mu produljuješ život.

– Na što ciljaš, bijednice?! – hladno upita Smrt i uputi mu strašni pogled, ali ga on izdrža ne oborivši glavu.

– Smrti vladarice života… pokloni mi priliku i ne uzimaj me još sa sobom! – zamoli je on, a Smrt upita: – Zašto misliš da bih ti je trebala pokloniti?! Nisam ja državna lutrija!

– Znam… oprosti… – po prvi put tijekom ovog razgo¬vora zadrhti Van Der Graafu glas – … oprosti, mislio sam da bih možda mogao… naučiti voljeti.

– Voljeti?! Ha, ha! Pa to je smiješno! Bijedni crve! Već si star. Ti me nasmijavaš?!

– Ne ljuti se, mislio sam, možda još nisam zaslužio umri¬jeti. Znaš, ljubav još nisam upoznao…

– Kako sad to? Zbunjuješ me! Ja imam nalog! – izvuče Smrt list papira iz svoje mrtvačke odore. – Ovdje sve piše! Ne radim ni ja tek tako! Po nahođenju!

– Znam. Oprosti – pomiri se Van Der Graaf sa sudbom, a Smrt se razmaše koštunjavom rukom: – Ma što znaš?! Vraga ti znaš! Misliš li da je meni lako?! Stalno neki pametnjakovići nalik tebi! Stalno neke veze i protekcije! Znaš li, gnjido, koliko ja posla imam?! Ne znaš! Naravno da ne znaš! Svi ti ratovi, kriminal… kraj svijeta uskoro… o Sotono, kad samo pomislim! A ti me zajebavaš!!

“Get in! Get in Van Der Graaf, willingly!” its horrible mouth softly creaked. “Do you know who I am?” it asked, and Van Der Graaf answered staring at the floor, “I know. You are Death.”

“Yes! I am Death, and this is the lift to the gallows.” Death circled the space around itself.

“I know,” said Van Der Graaf, still keeping his eyes on the floor. “I have seen the movie Elevator to the Gallows; the one with Jeanne Moreau. I saw it a while ago when I was young, and I did not know back then that the films were the truth and life itself was nothing, just a false celluloid illusion.”

“Yes,” echoed Death. “You have seen the film. I have seen it, too.”

“And did you see Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal?” asked Van Der Graaf.

“I have seen that one, too.”

“I see, you are fond of movies!” he raised his head suddenly and looked Death in the eyes, those empty sockets in its skull. “If I remember well, there’s a knight playing chess with you, in that movie. He is playing for his own life: If he wins, you’ll grant him life…”

“You miserable fool! What are you aiming at?” asked Death coldly giving him a frightening look, but he withstood the gaze without lowering his head.

“Death, you are the ruler of life… give me one more chance and please, don’t take me with you, oh, not as yet…” he pleaded. Death asked ironically:

“Why do you think I should give you what you are pleading for for free? I am not a State Lottery!”

“I know… I’m sorry…” for the very first time during their conversation his voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I thought, maybe I could learn… to love.”

“Love? Wow! Ha, ha! You pathetic little worm! This is ridiculous! You are too old, don’t make me laugh.”

“Oh, don’t get angry, I think, I do not deserve to die yet… Love… you know, I didn’t know what love is, I mean, I haven’t met love yet.”

“Love? What the hell is this now? You are confusing me! There is this decree, I have my orders!” Death took a sheet of paper out of its mantle. “Here, look, everything is written down. I work legally!”

“I know,” Van Der Graaf shrugged his shoulders resigning to his fate.

“What do you think you know? Hell you know!” Death started to wave its skeletal hand. “You think I do enjoy my job, don’t you? Well, my job isn’t exactly easy! There is always out there at least one smart arse like you! Always someone with connections and protections! You rascal, do you know how much work I have to do?! You don’t have a clue! Of course you don’t! And how much of it is still waiting for me; the wars, the crime… soon there’ll be the end of the world… Oh, Satan, I shouldn’t even think about that! And you, you are fucking around with me! There are so many out there just like you, who want this and that, they say they do believe in God, in love, in creation and recreation, blah, blah… No one can fuck around with me!”