The Science of Discworld IV Judgement Da

FIFTEEN



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CASE FOR THE PLAINTIFFS





The Great Hall in the palace had been opened to all-comers with, of course, a podium for Lord Vetinari and desks for the lawyers. A number of guards surrounded his Lordship, and everyone heard him tell them loudly, ‘No, I am in my own palace, in a court of law at the moment, and since we are not talking about a murder or a dreadful crime I see no reason to introduce weaponry into what is, when all is said and done, a philosophical debate.’

Marjorie watched the unhappy hangers-on disappear into the body of the hall, and then was further impressed by the way Lord Vetinari achieved silence. It was a masterclass; he simply sat silent and immobile with his hands spread out in front of him, oblivious to all the laughter, chattering, gossiping and arguing. It seemed that the air was just full of fragments of nothing whatsoever, fractured words breaking up and fading, until the final chattering fool suddenly found a great hush filling the room, in the centre of which there was his last stupid, idiotic remark, evaporating in his Lordship’s dreadful, patient silence.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot conceive of a more interesting case than the one we have today. The dispute is over a mere artefact: shiny, I grant you, and attractive in its way. I am given to believe by the wizards and natural scientists of Unseen University and elsewhere that, reasonably small though it be, it is in fact larger by many orders of magnitude than all of our own world.

‘I intend to seek evidence of this during the deliberations of this very unusual tribunal, which has been brought into being because there are two parties who both profess to believe that the artefact is theirs. For my part, I intend to test this assumption.’ Lord Vetinari sighed, and said, ‘I rather fear the term “quantum” will make an appearance; but these are, after all, modern times.’

Marjorie had to put her hand over her mouth to stop giggling; his lordship had said modern times like a duchess finding a caterpillar in her soup.

Lord Vetinari looked around at the crowd, frowned at the desks in front of him, and said, ‘Mister Slant, who is a foremost arbiter of the law, will assist me and advise me on aspects as relevant.’ He raised his voice and continued, ‘This, ladies and gentlemen, is not a criminal court! Indeed, I am slightly at a loss as to what kind of court it is, since the law works in the temporal sphere with its feet firmly on the ground. Therefore, with the two parties in this case planning to engage a number of, shall we say, experts in the celestial, as well as in the mundane sphere—’ Lord Vetinari looked around and said, ‘Shouldn’t I have a gavel? You know, one of those things judges bang on the table. I feel quite naked without one.’

A gavel was acquired from somewhere at speed and handed to his Lordship, who banged it once or twice in a kind of happiness.

‘Well, this seems to work; and now I call the counsel for the plaintiffs. Over to you, Mister Stackpole; you have the floor.’

Marjorie craned to see Mister Stackpole, but could only make out the top of a head. The voice emanating from it had a curious tone, as if its owner was actually vibrating. He said, ‘A small point, my Lord, but I am a priest of the Omnian faith, and generally addressed as “Reverend”.’

Lord Vetinari looked interested and said, ‘Really. I shall make a note of that. Please continue, Mister Stackpole.’

Marjorie really wished she could see the face of the Reverend Stackpole. Her father, when he was alive, had quite liked being called ‘Mister’; he once told her that he could never think of himself as ‘Reverend’ – he never felt like a ‘Reverend’, but was just happy in his job at St John’s-on-the-Water where everybody knew him and he knew everybody.

She looked up out of the mist of memory, because the Reverend Mister Stackpole was making his opening statement.

‘My Lord, we of the Latter-Day Omnian faith know that the world is round, and the discovery of Roundworld vindicates our faith. The ridiculous notion that the world travels on the back of an enormous turtle is entirely false. How can it exist in the vastness of space? How can it feed? Where did it come from? Fantasy, my Lord, nothing but fantasy! Unseen University’s custody of Roundworld is indefensible: it constitutes a serious violation of the theological property rights of the Church of the Latter-Day Omnians! The concept of a round world has been central to our faith for centuries.’ He took a deep breath and continued, ‘Justice demands that Roundworld should be in the possession of my brethren – and, of course, sistren – who are undoubtedly more capable of looking after it than the so-called wizards, who profess to know all the secrets of the multiverse, yet do not even know the true form of their own world! I appreciate that they can occasionally be of some practical use, but wizards should not be allowed to engage in celestial or ecclesiastical matters. They acquired this artefact by accident, and they have no right to retain it. In their hands it is a blasphemous caricature of our own round world, as created by the great god Om!’

Lord Vetinari glanced at the paperwork in front of him and said, ‘Mister Stackpole, I am a little puzzled here: enlighten me if I am wrong, but surely did we not, several years ago at great expense, send a dragon-powered flying machine known as the Kite on a mission initially to reach the home of the gods? It was designed and captained by Leonard of Quirm, was launched over the edge with extra momentum given by a number of swamp dragons, and subsequently landed on the Moon where a few samples were taken of the flora and fauna such as it turned out to be. Ultimately it crashed at the triumphal end of its mission – fortuitously without any fatalities – but the crew saw the turtle from every direction. It certainly existed, and Leonard himself produced quite a number of paintings – lifelike paintings. The three people who accompanied him on the voyage also testified about what they had seen.

‘I’m curious: do you believe that this did not happen? I’m perplexed. I am also aware that on many occasions explorers have climbed to the edge and seen the turtle, and indeed the elephants. Granted, their presence is unlikely, but unlikely things happen all the time – so they are in fact quite likely, which is the reason for things happening. Mister Stackpole, all the evidence says the world is on the back of an enormous turtle. Unlikely, yes: an unlikely turtle, but nevertheless the turtle in front of us, or rather below us. And it is therefore the truth, surely?’

Watching him carefully, Marjorie thought she recognised the Reverend Stackpole now; he was one of the left-ear people who you often got in libraries – people who talked at you while staring at your left ear and who would never, it seemed, look one directly in the eye. At the same time they willed you to believe, as an example, that the government was poisoning the water supply because of over-population. The worst of them, if you couldn’t shake them off, were the ones who at some point used the word ‘Aryan’ and declared that the master race was already in orbit around Jupiter, just waiting for the Chosen. Library rules forbade physical violence, but sometimes she wanted to go and have a wash afterwards, apologising to her ears for what she had made them hear, and to her fists for clenching them red.

In this world, she had no idea if she was somehow on the back of a turtle or not; but from her reading she recalled that it was a very long time before humanity knew that it even lived on a planet, and even then the concept took some time to permeate. As did concepts like looking after said planet. She remembered her grandmother saying, ‘I take all my bottles to the bottle bank to help save the planet,’ and Marjorie had for a moment rejoiced that in some way or other a new message was getting through even to a confused old lady.

Right now, she wondered if Lord Vetinari, by phrasing his points as questions, was being kind to the man, or was simply trying to ascertain the depths of his delusions.

But Mister Stackpole was not giving in; in fact, he was fighting back. ‘My Lord, we look at the sky and see round things; for example the Moon is round, and the Sun is round. Sphericality, surely, is everywhere. Don’t you think it is trying to tell us something?’

The Reverend got applause from some quarters of the room for this.

Lord Vetinari, on the other hand, had not allowed his expression to change by one iota. Once the noise had subsided, he banged on his gavel and said, ‘Thank you, Mister Stackpole. Please be so good to go back to your seat.’ The gavel struck again and the Patrician said, ‘There will now be an adjournment of fifteen minutes; refreshments for all are available in the black gallery.’

Every wizard’s face brightened immediately. Free food – well, that was worth coming along for. The sound of the gavel had barely faded away before Marjorie found herself alone on the bench. The wizards had stampeded – in a genteel way – to the gallery.