Lord Vetinari knew he was tired. His eyelids were drooping and, more than once, he had to stifle a yawn. He felt himself slump forward over the paperwork.

Vetinari sat up, feeling refreshed. I must have fallen asleep, he reasoned, although, judging from the light outside, no time had passed. He heard footsteps, like claws clicking on the floor.

GOOD EVENING, YOUR LORDSHIP.

"Good evening." Vetinari replied automatically, without looking up. His ears noted something odd about the voice, wrote a full report on it which was sent to his brain and filed under 'for later consideration'. He picked up another report.

Tried to pick up another report. His hand passed through it as if it were air. Vetinari looked down and saw... himself, slumped over the desk.

"Ah." he said. He looked up at Death. "Oh." he said.

INDEED said Death. The former Lord Vetinari sighed.

"And I left so much unfinished too. Ah well, no sense in hanging around I suppose."

YOU DO NOT WANT TO SEE WHO WILL TAKE OVER?

"No, I think not. Mr. Lipwig is quite ready, I'm sure."

YOU DO NOT IF KNOW HE WILL BE CHOSEN.

"No, but I'd like to believe he will be. And if he's not, I'd rather not linger to see who is, if it's all the same to you." Death nodded and swung his scythe. The shade of Vetinari faded.