Having just met the two asked him why he called himself Death. He told them that it was a nickname taken from an idea he'd had decades before. As they stopped to talk they felt the crush of the crowd as they were moved by the mass. The other two were dressed in rags, thin, well -worn garments that had become tattered during their long lives.
Death told them that once he'd spent a lot of time considering existence and eternity and he had wondered what it would be like if it ended. The two stared at him blankly, scratching at their beards. He'd tried to imagine a scenario where existence was not eternal, where none were immortal. They still said nothing, the idea was ridiculous and to the mind of the older man, a waste of time. Time however was infinite he realised and so let Death continue. Death, their new friend said, was the name he'd given to the concept of an end to life. With it the population would not rise endlessly, and he supposed that life itself might hold more meaning. He looked around at the crowd about them who did little with their time, it seemed pointless. There was no urge to be urgent, no need of haste, if they had it in their mind to do something it would happen, someday.
The two friends asked what would happen to those who had undergone the transition from life to death. Death said that they would break down; in time they would be nothing, no longer occupying space that could be used by the living. They all agreed that more space would be welcome, there was no room anywhere to do more than stand and the problem only got worse. Eternal life was something but in the long term the realisation of a concept like death would have been useful.