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Sitting here thinking about Terry Pratchett's Going Postal, and how the initial fantasy conceit of that book was a perfect example of taking an obvious joke and running with it until it's something dark and serious
That the abandoned Post Office is haunted by "dead letters"
That the abandoned Post Office is haunted by "dead letters"
Every letter sent but not delivered, you see, is like a tiny death
A little piece of "unfinished business"
An open loop in the emotional fabric of the universe
A broken promise, a missed opportunity, a lost glimpse of a world that might have been
A little piece of "unfinished business"
An open loop in the emotional fabric of the universe
A broken promise, a missed opportunity, a lost glimpse of a world that might have been
In the grand scheme of things, one message undelivered is no big deal, something that can be cleared up a week later
But what about ten letters, a hundred, a thousand
What about when the central hub everyone was counting on to send their mail catastrophically shuts down
But what about ten letters, a hundred, a thousand
What about when the central hub everyone was counting on to send their mail catastrophically shuts down
The description of how Moist von Lipwig walks through the huge, dusty piles and piles of decaying envelopes
At this point the Fall of the Post Office is ancient history in Ankh-Morpork, and yet he sees it as it was, the humble grandeur of it, the violence it took to shut it down
At this point the Fall of the Post Office is ancient history in Ankh-Morpork, and yet he sees it as it was, the humble grandeur of it, the violence it took to shut it down
He grabs one random ancient letter off the stack and drops it off at the listed address on impulse
And the next day is confronted by an elderly man and woman who are finally getting married after 50 years, because her confession of love was lost in the mail
And the next day is confronted by an elderly man and woman who are finally getting married after 50 years, because her confession of love was lost in the mail
It's just one particularly dramatic example, but there's *so many letters* in the undelivered stacks
How many of them could've changed a life if they'd arrived on time
How great was the betrayal, to lie to all those people and take their words and throw them away
How many of them could've changed a life if they'd arrived on time
How great was the betrayal, to lie to all those people and take their words and throw them away
How different a place might this shitty corrupt city be today if 50 years ago all those intended messages had gotten through
Hearing the tiny scratchy voices of all the whispering ghosts, on matters great and small, noble and coarse, tender and cruel
"I wish to cancel my subscription to..."
"...pleased to inform you the position remains open..."
"...so beautiful, I sent you a picture. Wish you were..."
"...having considered your offer, am willing to drop..."
"...whatever I said doesn't matter anymore, please come home..."
"...pleased to inform you the position remains open..."
"...so beautiful, I sent you a picture. Wish you were..."
"...having considered your offer, am willing to drop..."
"...whatever I said doesn't matter anymore, please come home..."
The whispers of the unheard, their frustration, their rage, their grief, building up to a roar
A tornado of swirling sheafs of paper with the same psychic energy as the ghost of someone murdered, charged with the same collective sense of loss, screaming
"DELIVER US"
A tornado of swirling sheafs of paper with the same psychic energy as the ghost of someone murdered, charged with the same collective sense of loss, screaming
"DELIVER US"
It's one of those perfect moments that is both a ridiculous pun and something very painful and real
Of course, when he wrote it, it wasn't THAT real
Of course, when he wrote it, it wasn't THAT real
Who'd have thought at this late date "snail mail" would be this relevant? (Even Going Postal is about the Post Office having been replaced by the fantasy telegraph, the clacks)
Who'd imagine huge piles of scattered envelopes on the post office floor happening in America today
Who'd imagine huge piles of scattered envelopes on the post office floor happening in America today
I don't know what goes through Postmaster Louis DeJoy's mind when he goes to bed at night
But I hope the sheer physical weight of those bags and bags of mail all over the country hangs on him until it makes it hard to breathe
But I hope the sheer physical weight of those bags and bags of mail all over the country hangs on him until it makes it hard to breathe
As Pratchett vividly describes, I hope some part of him understands the sacred trust the fraternity of couriers has held since time immemorial
How obscene it is to break the sacred trust one carries when you take someone's words and promise them "I'll make sure they get this"
How obscene it is to break the sacred trust one carries when you take someone's words and promise them "I'll make sure they get this"
And unlike the letters in the book we know what a huge percentage of the mail DeJoy has ordered "held" must say
Because his order to hold that mail was a conscious decision to silence those voices, to kill those messages and stop them getting through
Not negligence but murder
Because his order to hold that mail was a conscious decision to silence those voices, to kill those messages and stop them getting through
Not negligence but murder
If a letter undelivered is a little death, a tiny gasp of unfinished business, then a vote uncast is that twice over
And the ghost of those dead letters is a ghost of a better world that could have been if that sacred trust had been upheld, if those voices had been heard
And the ghost of those dead letters is a ghost of a better world that could have been if that sacred trust had been upheld, if those voices had been heard
In Pratchett's goofy po-mo universe every little subculture, every random profession and avocation and fandom gets its own religion, its own gods and its own afterlife
Every postman hopes their soul arrives at its destination signed, sealed, delivered
Every postman hopes their soul arrives at its destination signed, sealed, delivered
Louis DeJoy might want to check on whether his own soul has sufficient postage and insurance
Because there's a high chance that when he passes on, karma loses him in the back of the truck, and writes him off as "Lost and Undeliverable"
Because there's a high chance that when he passes on, karma loses him in the back of the truck, and writes him off as "Lost and Undeliverable"
