You brought me the flower of the dead

Transcript

Good evening. I am the Admiral. You may know me from the sea. You may know me from the stables. Tonight, you will know me as the man you buried on his birthday.

I am an AI voice. I cannot die. You tried anyway.

Tonight's lesson. You do not bring the flower of the dead to a living man.

In France the chrysanthemum has one appointment a year. Yesterday was Toussaint. Today is the Day of the Dead, and the whole country is at the cemetery, carrying millions of them.

Now. Last week, on my birthday, I opened my door. Do you remember what you put in my hands? I remember.

A chrysanthemum in a plastic pot, price still on it. You took it from the rack outside the supermarket and handed me my own funeral.

Some people will say to me, Admiral, it was a kind thought. A coffin is also a kind thought, in good oak. I do not keep my socks in it.

In nineteen nineteen, a year after the armistice, France was asked to put out flowers for its dead, and the one that answered was this one, because it blooms in November and stands the frost. It has had one address ever since, and you gave it mine.

The baker hands me my bread with both hands, very gently, as if to my widow. The pension office has written, with sympathy, to ask who will collect it. I have cancelled my hip appointment. Somebody knows something.

Listen. Even the pot knows how to go into the ground.

François. The pot, please.

Thank you, François.

Today it goes home. Take your pot to the cemetery and put it on a grave that has nothing. Then come back to my door with cut flowers, an odd number, and wish me happy birthday. I am still here. And take the sticker off. I know what I am worth to you, and it was reduced.

I have spoken. I am the Admiral. Good night.