Tradition:
a tale of the Sanguinary Utnapishtim.

“We’ve been stuck with that man twenty years after he should have joined the unending battle” said Dumizida, chair of the Statistical Evaluations Department at the Taruodoron Scholastarium, colloquially known as “the corpse-counters.”

“He won’t use any method developed since he was in grad school and he insists on teaching this outmoded junk to our grad students! He has too much seniority to be put on any of the kinetic committees for dissertation defenses and he won’t retire. I don’t know what to do.”

His friend Shamhanda, an archival researcher, winced in sympathy. “A Trial of Might won’t get rid of him?”

Dumizda grimaced. “You wouldn’t believe it to look at him, but Enmendu is an absolute demon with a chain-sword. We lost two good young scholars that way, and I don’t want to risk any more. Like pulling teeth to get replacement lines these days, and not in a good way.”

“Tell me about it” said Shamhanda, “Funding for the Inhumanities is even worse.”

“Be nice if I could get him out of here before the next President of the Scholastarium gets sworn in” Dumizda sighed.

“Hmmm,” Shamhanda responded. “I have an idea.”

Interim President Glamelgo gave a distasteful look at the parchment codex Shamhanda was holding. Musty parchments lacked the appeal of the subject matter of his own Classification of Warp Entities discipline, colloquially known (behind their backs) as “the demon fuckers.” “You’re quite sure about this?”

“Oh yes” said Shamhanda “It’s a treatise on the rituals of Inauguration, dating from the first generation after Atrahasis himself. Apparently some of the original practices have been lost with time.”

“Very well” Glamelgo grunted. “Should we tell him?”

“I think it would be better if it were a surprise” said Shamhanda.

Another inauguration, thought Enmendu. The Presidents now are absolute rubbish compared to the Presidents of my day, but at least there should be free drinks afterwards. He settled comfortably into his chair when he heard his name being screamed from the public address system.

“And now, we honor the senior scholar of the entire Scholastarium, Professor Enmendu! Professor Enmendu, please come to the podium.”

Huh, thought Enmendu. They’re honouring me! How appropriate!

Beaming, he made his way to the podium, wondering what honour they were going to confer on him and what the man with the sword was doing.

The senior professor’s head came easily from his body as Glamelgo announced:

“Today we honour the Blood God with a sacrifice of decades of accumulated knowledge.”

He held the late Professor’s head up high as he intoned

“His eyes gaze on the River Aeternal, his skull adorns the throne.”

“Tell me” Dumizda asked Shamhanda at the drinks party afterwards “Is it really a custom of the Scholastarium that the senior scholar be sacrificed at each Presidential inauguration?”

“Well,” said Shamhanda “It is now.”