Welcome to The Nonlinear Library, where we use Text-to-Speech software to convert the best writing from the Rationalist and EA communities into audio. This is: The Unweaving of a Beautiful Thing, published by atb on December 26, 2021 on The Effective Altruism Forum.
It had been eighteen minutes since Death had arrived and the witch had refused to be taken.
The spell was like spiderweb, intricate threads woven into the world, and Death had paused to admire it. They’d known that the witch might fight, for the powerful often greeted them with defiance. Fire had been flung at Death in every hue, while others they’d visited had attempted deceit, offering up innocents cloaked in their own guise. One wizard had tried a love spell, not understanding that Death already loved them all. But the witch’s web was something new; it was an attempt to trap Death in its threads. It was elegant and audacious and cunning, and yet.
“You are aware,” said Death, “that this approach will fail?”
The witch had turned forty a week before, and when she smiled, crow’s feet appeared at the corner of her eyes. “You’re right, it’ll probably fail. Still, it’s worth a try. Besides.”
She trailed off, and Death finished the sentence for her, having heard the sentiment many times before, “Besides, you would rather go out fighting.”
The witch frowned. “No, why would I.” She rolled her eyes. “Is that what other people say? You deal with a lot of morons, don’t you?”
Death did not comment.
“It’s beautiful,” the witch said, gesturing along the Melbourne laneway where they sat. Shoe-box cafes ran its length, tables spilling onto the pavement along with the smell of coffee. Graffiti turned the walls into a riot of colour, and the sound of milk steaming mingled with shouted orders and laughter and chatter. People strode along the alleyway, ducking in and out of cafes, oblivious to Death and the witch.
“I suppose it has its own sort of beauty,” Death said.
The witch nodded, plucking at the edges of her spell. “I plan to enjoy it for every minute I can buy myself.”
Death sighed. “I do have others to visit.”
“And every minute you spend with me is a minute that they too get to look for beauty.” The witch drummed her fingers on the table, before tilting her head. “You could just leave us alone, you know?”
This strategy was familiar. Normally people would beg for a day or week or eternity, but though the witch showed unusual calm, the impulse was the same.
“You are aware,” Death said again, “that this approach will fail?”
The witch shrugged. “I’m aware you’re not capable of questioning your purpose, but it’s worth a try. Besides.” This time, when the witch trailed off, Death waited. The witch smiled. “Besides, it gained me a few seconds, didn’t it?”
“I suppose it did.”
Death turned from the witch and studied the spell once more, testing its strength and tracing its lines. It had been twenty-one minutes since they’d arrived, and by their best guess, in nine minutes and fifty seconds more they would have the spell unpicked. Their hands began to flow.
The witch’s spell was elegant, but Death unweaved it with a speed that no mortal could match. They did not enjoying doing so, but they did not allow this fact to slow them. Enjoyment was not the point. Still, they were disappointed when the spell withered faster than expected. Nine minutes and fifty seconds they’d guessed, but just six minutes had passed when they were ready to break the final strand.
They paused, half hoping the witch would say something to delay the end, but she just smiled and sipped a coffee she’d ordered while Death had been busy. Death sighed. They made the final gesture.
“Oh fuck,” Death said, as everything went wrong.
The web of the spell snapped back, threads that had been unweaved stitching themselves into the world once more. Only, this time, Death had been enmeshed with the disintegrating spell and, as it regrew, it ensnared much of their power. Death reflected on this fact.
“That was devious,” they s...