The Science of Discworld IV Judgement Da

THIRTEEN



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RINCEWIND’S ADVENTURES IN ROUNDWORLD





The arrival into Roundworld was always a hit-or-miss business these days, Rincewind knew. The people in the Inadvisably Applied Magic group had a word for it – or, more accurately, a number of equations, which you would see on the walls, being drawn and then subsequently redrawn by the next researcher, or survivor. But the Dean said that he knew what he was doing, and landed them in the middle of London; regrettably during a race, which Rincewind inadvertently won; and he had to submit to multiple slaps on the back, admiration for his wizard’s outfit, and many thanks from the organisers for helping the Orangutan Foundation to raise so much money.

He was surprised, as well, when someone he had thought was the Librarian turned out to be a young woman in an outfit, which led to hilarious misunderstanding as a result of which both he and the Dean had to run a little further.

They found a pleasant park with trees, and ducks in the pond, and considered their circumstances. After a while Rincewind said, ‘I told you about the automobiles, didn’t I? Terrible waste of resources. Honestly, is this really Homo sapiens? Horses breed other horses, eat grass and you get fertiliser as well; don’t you remember the street cries of “Tuppence a bucket, well stamped down”?’

‘Yes,’ said the Dean. ‘I also remember “gardyloo”, and it wasn’t very pleasant. I must admit, though, that they have progressed in this era – but I think at enormous cost, which most of them don’t recognise, although right now I see people in very decent health: lots of colour, no heads on railings … all in all, if you don’t think too hard … though we know what’s coming their way.’ Then the Dean pointed to a building in the distance and said, ‘Fairly big place there; I’m sure I’ve seen it before.’

‘You have,’ said Rincewind. ‘You remember the Great Fire of London? We helped Mister Pepys to bury his Parmesan cheese.’

‘Oh, right. I wonder if the fellow got it back again?’

‘No,’ said Rincewind. ‘I asked him where he put it, and I couldn’t remember either, so I went back to the moment when he buried it and doubled up myself; if you remember, Mrs Whitlow was very happy to see it. I figured that since he was going to forget the cheese anyway … well, it would be such a wicked shame to let it go to waste.’

‘It was a bad move,’ said the Dean. ‘Causality, you see.’

‘Don’t talk to me about causality,’ said Rincewind. ‘It hasn’t done me that many favours, what with one thing and another. But since we are here and chatting, I have to ask: well, what did you do to make this place? I mean, you say you just put your hand in some firmament and, if I may quote, you “wiggled it about”. I must say, I can understand that in a slightly not understanding way, but what about the continents and all that? There’s an awful lot of fine detail, like squirrels and creatures and fish, and amazing things on coral reefs; seriously amazing things. And while we’re on the subject, full marks for putting the Moon in the right place to get tides. Tides in, tides out: very clever idea – not only a beach-cleaning service, but also making it easier for crawling things to come out of the sea. I would take off my hat to you, if I ever took my hat off; well done, I say!’

They strolled a little further towards the dome-shaped place in the distance, and at last the Dean said, ‘Rincewind. Indeed, Professor Rincewind, I understand that you are a very learned head when it comes to Cruel and Unusual Geography. Egregious Professor of it, indeed! But I feel I must tell you this.’ The Dean cleared his throat, as if for a statement of enormous moment and worth. ‘I didn’t do a thing. I didn’t plan a thing. I didn’t frame the fearful symmetry of the tyger, of which it appears there are now all too few. No! It all just happened.’

‘But you—’ Rincewind began.

‘Oh, of course I take an interest in the place – it would be remiss of me to do otherwise,’ the Dean continued, adding, ‘but I’ve never tried it again. I wouldn’t like to take the responsibility.’ They strolled on a bit and he said, ‘I’m quite getting the hang of this era, and my feet hurt. Let’s take a cab; at least these days you no longer have to scrape the horse dung off your boots.’

He snapped his fingers and a cab halted so quickly that the driver was nearly thrown out; still bemused, he watched as the two figures got in and two seat belts miraculously strapped themselves up.

Without even looking at the driver, the Dean said, ‘You will drive us to the place under the dome over there; you will have had an indecently high tip, and when we get out of your moving apparatus you will totally forget that we were ever in it. Thank you so much.’

When the wizards stepped into St Paul’s, the Dean sighed. ‘Most excellent work. I’ve always thought it worth a fire or two, and for that matter some Parmesan cheese: wonderful architecture, intelligent design! Old Bill got it right, didn’t he: “What a piece of work is a man.” I do not claim the credit, but these people have done some wonderful things, you must admit. With our help, of course – the occasional nudge here and there …’

‘No,’ said Rincewind. ‘I’ve explored Roundworld all too often, one way or the other, and let me tell you, my friend, nudges or no nudges, that it is a good job I can run fast. But I’ll tell you what: let’s go up to the Whispering Gallery and tell the Americans there is a prize for the loudest noise – how about that?’

‘Americans?’ said the Dean.

‘Yes, great travellers in Roundworld, which they secretly think belongs to them; but salt of the Earth, even so – bearing in mind that salt occasionally gets under the skin. Mind you, we must remember that they were the ones who persevered in the attempt to get to the Moon. In my book that shows the right attitude, yes! What is it you want?’

This was directly to the person who was suggesting to the Dean and Rincewind that they pay him fifteen pounds each to go to the Whispering Gallery, and Rincewind hissed to the Dean that they should have gone invisible, as usual.

But the Dean, once called pig-headed by Mustrum Ridcully, said, ‘My dear sir, do you know to whom you speak? I brought this little world into being! I really do not believe that I have to pay to go anywhere.’ Rincewind grabbed the Dean’s hand and tugged, but the Dean raised his voice and added, ‘It’s a matter of principle.’ A phrase that in any area of conflict had something of the overtones of the Titanic – it would sink you every time.

Rincewind managed to convince the staff and subsequently the constabulary that the Dean, although bellowing his celestial bona fides, had been recently hit on the head by a piece of falling masonry and would never do it again. And he, that is to say Rincewind, would see to it that he, the Dean, got home – although Rincewind took both of them to Australia, just because he liked the place.

As they sat addressing a bucket of Oysters Kilpatrick, the Dean said, ‘You know, I’m getting annoyed. People: they think it’s all about them!’

‘Well,’ said Rincewind, ‘one of their most important holy books tells them that this is so; indeed, there are some people who seriously believe that their job is to use up everything on the planet so that their god will make them another one. When I read that, I thought, Oh dear me, aren’t we going to be surprised!’

‘It sounds to me like toxic advice,’ said the Dean, ‘but surely they have brains? I mean, we know they do; though there is politics of course, and mercantile greed – monkey stuff. And surely there will be a lot of wise men, as opposed to wise guys, even though wise guys have money behind them. No wise man could sell that kind of bad news, though, even if it is important; it would take a fairly brave person to stand up and say that no matter what is in their particular holy book there are certainly some parts that need re-evaluation.’ He sighed. ‘Alas, apparently belief in a god gives a believer the right to have their views taken seriously. It’s superstition – you don’t want to upset a god.’

‘Well, I’ve managed to upset several,’ Rincewind said. ‘I think it keeps them on their toes. You know how it is; you can get quite stale unless you are occasionally tested.’ He added, rather gloomily, ‘It happens to me quite a lot.’

But the Dean wasn’t listening. ‘It’s not all bad, though, or for that matter all that stupid,’ he continued. ‘Science works and is seen to work – we made sure of that – even though there are still those who believe, for example, in a holy book written in the Iron Age by a committee of old men. Admittedly, it was right in some parts.’

Rincewind butted in. ‘The tiny little swimming things did come first, and after that the fish, which wasn’t a bad guess. I know! I was there!’

The Dean helped himself to the last oyster and said, ‘Do you think I should materialise in one of their important places and very carefully tell one of them what they are doing wrong? I can’t help but feeling some responsibility, silly though it sounds.’

‘Don’t,’ said Rincewind emphatically. ‘You will only get nailed to something; although from what I can find out, the nails nowadays have become a lot more subtle – they’d give you a very big prize and a hearty handshake, and subsequently tell one another that as an academic you are out of touch with reality, despite wading through the wretched stuff for your whole long career.’

‘Nothing can be done, then?’ said the Dean.

‘No, not really. Small things in the sea and underground will survive, but at the rate the resources of the planet are being destroyed, I can’t see any room for civilisation again. Maybe it would be a good idea to come back in a million years’ time. There may be something left.’

The Dean was not one to take no for an answer, and tried again. ‘Or, of course, innocence will prevail!’

‘Yes,’ said Rincewind gloomily. ‘It might. And I might prefer horses, but I suspect the automobiles are breeding faster …’