The Science of Discworld IV Judgement Da

NINE



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UNHOLY WRIT





The door was opened by Ponder Stibbons, a busy young man who seemed to be central to just about everything that was happening in the university. He was, Marjorie considered, one of those most useful people: a housetrained near-nerd, conscientious to the point of insanity but not any further, apparently.

‘It is the Omnians again, Archchancellor. They have issued a writ against us for ownership of Roundworld since, they say, it is clearly bound up with their religion. They are rather acerbic on the subject, Archchancellor,’ said Ponder, looking nervously at Marjorie. He added, ‘They are demanding the artefact and are hinting at dire action if it isn’t handed over to them.’

Ponder stayed silent then, because Ridcully himself had remained silent, and if you are a wizard you can apprehend the subtle signs of the volcano stirring. He carefully took a few steps backwards, just in case, and when the Archchancellor spoke it was almost a sullen growl.

‘Mister Stibbons, turn the writ over to Mister Slant, will you? And then make it clear to him, as our legal representative in the mundane world, that wizards react somewhat erratically when it comes to threats. Acerbic is only a beginning. Thank you, Mister Stibbons, and you may go.’

Marjorie had been watching all this with a kind of weird fascination. This place was certainly magical; occasionally you saw the wretched squid somewhere about the place, and candles were lit with a wave of the hand, though curiously enough created mundanely by servants. The magic was there but apparently like, for example, a really good bank balance: ready for use if required, and otherwise barely noticed.

As Ponder Stibbons rushed off, she drew breath and said, ‘Mustrum, since I am your guest, do you not mind telling me what that just now was all about? It sounded deeply interesting!’

‘My dear Miss Daw …’

Before Mustrum could articulate a further word, Marjorie said in a friendly voice, ‘I really do not mean any offence, but I am not your dear. I have a number of gentlemen friends – and occasionally others not so gentle – but I belong to none of them; I am indeed my own woman. I thank you for your hospitality, albeit because you accidentally dropped me here – and may I say I wouldn’t miss this for worlds – but I’m sure you understand that the important thing in life is to know exactly who you are. And I’m mine. No offence taken; just more of a heads up.’

‘Alas, Marjorie,’ the Archchancellor replied, dusting off the globe on his desk with one hand as he spoke, ‘I feel my head is down in presumptuous guilt. However, a word to the wise is enough, and since I perceive by the glint in your eye that we might still be friends, I shall send out for some coffee and a small snack, then spill the beans on this new development.’

There appears to be no such thing as a snack in Unseen University. Indeed, the term was used, but you could probably stave off starvation for a week on a university ‘snack’. So shortly afterwards three trolleys were wheeled into the room by some servants, and the contents of the trolleys were like the biggest picnic imaginable.

When Marjorie said so, the Archchancellor just laughed and said, ‘Anything that isn’t eaten is given to the students. They will eat everything. Please help yourself.’

A bell was rung, a servant came with a further trolley wobbling under the weight of coffee pots and cups and saucers, then left, and Ridcully said, ‘Oh my, what can I tell you about Omnianism, which is now uppermost in my mind to the extent that I rather wonder if your accidental arrival here has something to do with this wretched Omnian situation. In my experience, very little happens by chance. Ever since the beginning we have had a great many gods in our world, and they are mostly gods of phenomena and places and even functions – such as Anoia, the goddess of things which stick in drawers; that is wooden drawers, of course – the fabric type presumably have a different goddess. Among these was a reasonably decent religion known as the Church of Om, which eventually became extremely warlike and aggressive towards other faiths for the glory of their god. Then one day a decent man by the name of Brutha – possibly the ghost of a shamed god – changed everything about the way Omnianism worked, making it more based on helping others rather than repeatedly telling an all-seeing god how good he was.fn1 Which, I should imagine, must have been boring him to bits, yes?’

Marjorie had an unsettled look, and then she said, ‘You know, don’t you, that this is quite similar to what many believe to have happened on my own world? Which, if you don’t mind me telling you, you have just defiled a little with a drop of mayonnaise … Is it likely that people back on Earth will see an asteroid of dairy products hurtling through the sky over their heads?’

Mustrum smiled. ‘It can easily be removed. Besides, the connection between Roundworld and Discworld isn’t quite as simple as that. But they are linked by narrativium, one of the most powerful forces in the multiverse. It tells causality what to do next; or what not to do if the journey is not to come to an end so bleak that not even darkness itself could find a space, and after that there is only empty and screaming despair.’

After a pause in which the air in the room seemed itself to be choking while the firmament crumbled and the mayonnaise dribbled down the side of the globe, the Archchancellor completely spoiled the effect by brightening up with a big grin and saying, ‘But there is no need to worry, of course, because we are always keeping an eye on things! That’s what human beings are for, you see? If the multi-verse isn’t watched, it would cease to exist. The dogs and cats and sea urchins and orangutans and oysters and locusts and so on take their share of the work, but mostly it’s left up to us to do what you might call the heavy psychic lifting, because we observe, and know we are observing, and we think not only about what we see but also about the way we think. As a reward we somehow come across even more interesting things to think about, especially when the thinking leads on to interesting new discoveries and so on.’

Marjorie went to say something, but a look in the Archchancellor’s eye made her lean forward and take another cake instead.

‘We realise, of course,’ Ridcully continued, ‘that in truth we know very little compared to what we don’t know, and somehow that is good for us – all things must strive, and because we know how ignorant we actually are then we must strive hardest of all.’ He took a deep breath and said as it were a valedictory: ‘We will not give up Roundworld to meddlers!’

‘Meddlers?’ Marjorie managed.

‘Yes, indeed!’ Ridcully confirmed. ‘The Church of the Latter-Day Omnians has become a combative and philosophically greedy organisation, declaring that only it knows what is true!’ Marjorie saw his knuckles whiten. ‘Not even we know everything that is true, and I strongly suspect that if everything in the universe becomes true, the whole business could start over again. The Omnians do not see reason even with a telescope – and without reason there can be nothing. Those who wish to tell us how we should think, and sometimes that we shouldn’t even think at all, must be ignored. The glowing message that came to light in the time of Brutha, the most enlightened Omnian priest, was clear: all men are brothers – or sisters of course as appropriate – and subject to their conscience and the golden rule.’

Suddenly Ridcully looked smaller; his face was red and he was sweating profusely, to the extent that Marjorie silently handed him a large glass of water, which appeared to her to steam as it touched his lips.

He thanked her, and she said carefully, ‘Do you know that some people in what you call Roundworld refuse to believe that it is indeed a sphere, despite the fact that it has been proved by, among other things, the Apollo Moon landings? They assert that these were forgeries, despite actual footprints on the Moon. In fact, I’m sorry to say that in my own library the other day we had one of those rather nervous gentlemen who declared that the Moon mission was nothing but a hoax. You get all sorts of people in the library, and the librarian gets it all; by the way, Mustrum, just then you looked like a preacher. No offence meant.’

‘My brother Hughnon is a priest, not me,’ said Mustrum. ‘And even he is having difficulty with the modern Omnians. They are insisting that children are not told that this world survives on the back of an enormous turtle!’ He smiled at her and said, ‘I saw your face just then, Marjorie; but in fact the turtle is real – plucky explorers have seen it. Of course, it’s real in this reality; other realities may vary. And then there is Roundworld, which we suspect may originate from a universal template, unlike Discworld which we believe was bespoke. Both, however, have narrativium … yes, what is it?’

The door opened to admit Ponder Stibbons again, smiling for once. ‘Good news, Archchancellor; and you too, Miss Daw. Our little problem has been solved, and access to Roundworld is now easily negotiable.’ Ponder hesitated for a moment and added, ‘But if I were you I would wipe the mayonnaise off it first.’

fn1 See Small Gods.