Going postal The 9,000 Year Prologue: The sea is basically… thick air.
And if a ship sinks deep enough into this “wet air,” it just stops sinking — and starts drifting instead. Underwater. Perfectly reasonable. Probably.
So down there, ancient ships just keep going.
Broken, half-rotten, with skeleton crews who never quite clocked out.
No harbor. No destination. Just… eternal floating.
It’s calm. Very calm. Uncomfortably calm.
Every now and then an anchor drops and ruins the silence — like someone dropping cutlery in the quietest, saddest dining room in existence.
Conclusion:
In Discworld, death doesn’t mean you stop working.
It just means you’re stuck on the longest, most pointless business trip imaginable.