The fifth-to-last funeral to ever be held was only modestly attended. Abraham, the man who was dead, had had only one daughter. The pattern had held for another two generations before his great-grandson had bucked the trend with a more explosive fertility - but by that point the generational gap was so large that only a few of those younger folk felt connected with their ancient patron. Nor had Abraham been close to any nieces, nephews, or younger cousins. His wife had passed some time before, as had his brother; and of course his parents, uncles, and aunts were many years gone. So, in the end, it was but a smattering of family, a few former students who had become friends, and the small group of other remaining humans whose fate it was to similarly die. There were five of them.

“I maintain this is a grim tradition, each one worse than the last! Readings, music - where were the fireworks, the bang? Pah!”

Frederick, who was the second youngest, spoke loudly as they exited the small venue. He wore a sharp blue suit and habitual smirk, and he carried with him a thin cane, only truly needed on the roughest ground. The white flower in his lapel was bright and resplendent. He walked by Juanita, whom the years had treated more unkindly. Her cane was thicker, and a wince could be seen around her eyes as she leaned upon it.

“Oh, don’t be tasteless, Freddie. There are family about.”

“Family? Don’t give me that, ‘Anita! Any whippersnappers around here should respect their elders. We’ve only got so many moments, and any one of those I’m not spending with my heart racing or with a drink in my hand are wasted. Where’s the wake? There will be wine there, I’m sure. Abe loved the stuff, so there had better be.”

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“And proud. Now…”

Freddie looked around and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the three other ancients. They were also leaving the hall, separated from him and Juanita by a couple of Abraham’s great-great-grandchildren. Freddie put a hand on Juanita’s arm to slow her and the two of them stepped to the side to let the youth past and their peers catch up. He called out to them.

“Chae-won! Austen! I saw you talking to those kids before the ceremony,” - he said that last word wrong, seh-REM-on-ee, a smug amusement creasing his face as he saw the others take a moment to parse it - “You’ll know whether there are plans for a proper wake. What have you heard? And Carlos, tell your sister here to stop being a stick in the mud. Even better, tell her to get drunk! It’ll help with her arthritis.”

Carlos, who was Juanita’s younger brother, was a frowning man whose greying brows dominated his face and shadowed his eyes. Juanita moved to stand next to him, sharing a look with Austen, a kind of “can-you-believe-this-guy” moment of eye contact which had become a standard response to Freddie’s cheerful boorishness. Chae-won’s face remained impassive as she walked to join them, her posture upright and queenly.

“You’re getting worse every time I see you, Freddie,” Austen said with a laugh. She looked as young as ever - and indeed she was the youngest. “Inappropriate, noisy, and rude! How do you live with yourself?”

“Comfortably! Exquisitely! And not sober when I don’t have to be!”

“The wake is being held at the house of Abraham’s son Samuel,” Chae-won said, looking at a small notebook she had produced from a pocket. “This was on the invitations. It was confirmed by Samuel when I talked to him before, as you observed.”

She put the notebook away and looked up.

“That is all the help I will give you in indulging, Frederick. It is not a long walk from here, if we want to make our way on foot.”

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Freddie sniggered. “You think I enjoy exercise? When there is drinking to be done? No, I will drive. Juanita will navigate for me, since she is so damn keen on keeping me on the right path. Come on! Room for anyone as lazy as I am!”

He twirled, and set off with a spring in his step, but without moving at full speed - slow enough that Juanita could keep up comfortably despite the pain in her hips. The rest followed, Carlos trailing slightly at the rear, Austen saying something that made Chae-Won silently smile. Freddie held the doors of his sedan open for the various passengers with an ironic bow, and then with a near-silent hum they were off.

“Well, I thought it was a beautiful ceremony,” said Austen from the back. “So many lovely readings! And the things written by Abe that his students had found, which were really quite touching. I didn’t know that kind of writing made it into books about history.”

“Abraham was renowned for his poetic style,” said Chae-Won, “He felt that important moments in history are worth exploring emotionally as well as factually. It’s all in his books.”

Juanita nodded along. She and Abe had spoken of this several times, and the idea had informed some of the pieces of art she was most proud of.

“I don’t know about history, but the man could wax poetic about other things!” added Freddie with a leer, “I’ll never have to listen to him going off on one about a fantastic dinner, or one of his “immortal games” of chess again, and I for one am all for it! Did you know the man had memorised every world champion match on record? Get him started, and it was all queenside this, kingside pawns, A8, rook to B16, and oh! He and Shin, when he was still around, they would - “

“Are we all just going to ignore it?” Carlos broke in sharply.

There was a confused silence, conversation suddenly halted. Juanita closed her eyes.

“...ignore what?” said Freddie. Carlos stared at him via the rearview mirror, eyes wide and slightly bulbous.

“It doesn’t happen like this,” he growled. “He should have had years of warning. No accident, nothing named. No new risk factors. Nothing failing over time. Just - boom! Dead. That isn’t supposed to happen these days! What do we have these for- “ he shook the biometric watch on his wrist angrily, “- if not to catch things! Give some warning! Are you telling me something isn’t fucked about this one? Someone, some bit of tech, didn’t screw up?” A snorting scoff punctuated the end of this statement - before he went on. “It’s fucked. All this fucked. So who, who screwed up?”

All through this outburst, he had avoided looking directly at Chae-won. Now, Austen threw a nervous glance towards her. Her lips had pressed into a thinner line.

“It’s rare,” she said, “But not unheard of. There was a case…” she trailed off, frowning.

Carlos rounded on her, face reddening. “Don’t you start! A case? One, two? An who says they weren’t fucked over either? All your fancy tech, can’t get that right? Or is it all no good? Eh?”

“Carlos!”

Juanita had spun in her seat to look at him.”You are not going to do this! You are not going to shout at our friends at Abe’s funeral because you have some... Some cracked idea about his death! I won’t have it. I won’t!”

Carlos sneered. “Friends? These people? Who we just have one thing in common with, who we only see when someone dies? Pah! How do we know it wasn’t one of them who fucked something up at some point? Or got Abe into something just a bit too fun, eh? Come on Freddie, I know you like your funny pills, you slip him something?”

“Oh, Carlos, no -” started Austen, shocked, but he waved her down.

“Stop the car,” he barked, “I’m getting out”.

Freddie did so wordlessly. Carlos angrily opened the door and got out. He started to stalk away.

“I’m sorry everyone, I had better go after him,” sighed Juanita, starting to rise.

“It’s ok,” said Freddie, softly. “He’s upset. Come to the wake if you can, and you’re both still invited to any of my little parties, or just to dinner, of course - let me know.”

With a tight smile and a nod, Juanita was gone too.

“I hadn’t known Abraham and Carlos were so close,” said Austen once some moments had passed and they were on the road again.

“I believe they had shared a lot of books and reading materials,” spoke Chae-won. With Juanita gone from the passenger seat, Freddie drove the two remaining women like a chauffeur - neither of them had thought to move to the front. “There is certainly much shared between history and journalism - descriptive, exploratory, concerned with things which people do and things which happen to people.”

“Ha! I like that! Things which happen to people! Imagine ever caring about a thing that didn’t somehow happen to a person? Little facts and figures, in labs and libraries, not a person in sight. What a boring thing that would be!”

Freddie seemed to have regained his cheer. He said this last bit with a knowing smirk at Chae-won in his mirror, which she caught, and as she realised his game the slight frown which had been forming eased into a smile. Freddie sniggered.

“Almost got you, Chae-won. We all know how very interesting your little facts turned out to be. Now, come on - I think this is it. Let’s park and I can find that drink before one of the things that happens to people like us happens to me too!”

“Oh, never change Freddie,” laughed Austen, “And don’t get too drunk. I want to do diaries with you - let’s not make the next one of these the next time we see each other, please!”