On one of his travels, Tlön came upon a dying man. Except for some aches and pains visible on his emaciated face, he seemed to be content with his lot. “Is there anything I can do for you,” Tlön asked. “I am happy to be dying,” the man said, “but you can shorten my torment.” “How?” At this point the man chortled, started coughing his heart out, and died. “For a moment,” Tlön told his mates when he rejoined them a while later, “I thought of acquiescing to his plea.” “How?” one of them asked earnestly. Tlön chortled and started coughing, but his mates jumped up at once and pounded his back with all their might. “You forget,” he sighed when he recovered a bit, “you always forget…”