"Of course," David said. "So, to protect the image of normalcy for the mourners of the deceased, coins were placed over the eyes of the dead so their collapse would not be so noticeable."

"Correct."

"And the part about the coins being a payment for you came about...?

"As a rationalization for the act, itself," Charon finished.

David nodded. "Well, thank you for sharing that with me."

Charon shrugged his shoulders. "You asked a question and I answered it."

As they pushed onward, David turned around and looked into the fog. Light from the lantern hanging above him gave the swirling mist a golden glow, but he could not see more than a few feet ahead. The only sounds he heard were the gentle splash of the pole as it guided them onward and a soft hiss as the punt cut smoothly through the dark water.

Turning back to the boatman, David asked, "How long until we get to... wherever it is we're going?"

"The journey will end when we reach our destination," Charon told him.

"Swell," David said with a thin smile and watched Charon for a while in silence. The boatman's face was still hidden within the dark confines of his hood, the robe covering everything except his hands where they grasped the pole. Long and lean, the skin was stretched so tightly over the gnarled hands that David could see the movement of tendons as the pole was maneuvered back and forth.

"So, how long have you been ferrying ...the dead...across this river?"

"Forever," Charon replied, without hesitation.

David blinked at this answer. "Well, 'forever' seems rather a long time, don't you think?"

Once again, the robed figure shrugged his shoulders. "Time is not absolute, after all. Here, for instance, there is no concept of time."

"Yes, I can well imagine," David admitted, looking around at the unending shroud of fog that surrounded them. "What is it you do when you're not in the ferry business?"

"I wait."