A Blink of the Screen (32 page)

T
IME ON-LINE GAMES, 2004

This was written for the on-line game TimeHunt, in which each story incorporated a hidden phrase
.

It’s relevant to the story, it’s still in there, you need the mind of a fan to find it, and I bend the rules a little – or, rather, there are exceptions to the rule
.

I rather liked the idea of Heaven being a logical certainty
…

When Death met the philosopher, the philosopher said, rather excitedly, ‘At this point, you realize, I’m both dead and not dead.’

There was a sigh from Death. Oh dear, one of those, he thought. Is this going to be about quantum again? He hated dealing with philosophers. They always tried to wriggle out of it.

‘You see,’ said the philosopher, while Death, motionless, watched the sands of his life drain through the hourglass, ‘everything is made of tiny particles, which have the strange property of being in many
places
at one time. But things made of tiny particles tend to stay in one place at one time, which does not seem right according to quantum theory. May I continue?’

Y
ES, BUT NOT INDEFINITELY
, said Death.
E
VERYTHING IS TRANSIENT
. He did not take his gaze away from the tumbling sand.

‘Well, then, if we agree that there are an infinite number of universes, then the problem is solved! If there are an unlimited number of universes, this bed can be in millions of them, all at the same time!’

D
OES IT MOVE?

‘What?’

Death nodded at the bed.
C
AN YOU FEEL IT MOVING
? he said.

‘No, because there are a million versions of me, too, And … here is the good bit … in some of them I am not about to pass away! Anything is possible!’

Death tapped the handle of his scythe as he considered this.

A
ND YOUR POINT IS
…?

‘Well, I’m not exactly dying, correct? You are no longer such a certainty.’

There was a sigh from Death. Space, he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once humans saw all that space, their brains expanded to try to fill it up.

‘No answer, eh?’ said the dying philosopher. ‘Feel a bit old-fashioned, do we?’

T
HIS IS A CONUNDRUM, CERTAINLY
, said Death. Once they prayed, he thought. Mind you, he’d never been sure that prayer worked, either. He thought for a while.
A
ND
I
SHALL ANSWER IT IN THIS MANNER
, he added.
Y
OU LOVE YOUR WIFE?

‘What?’

T
HE LADY WHO HAS BEEN LOOKING AFTER YOU
.
Y
OU LOVE HER?

‘Yes. Of course.’

C
AN YOU THINK OF ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WHERE, WITHOUT YOUR PERSONAL HISTORY CHANGING IN ANY WAY, YOU WOULD AT THIS MOMENT PICK UP A KNIFE AND STAB HER?
said Death.
F
OR EXAMPLE?

‘Certainly not!’

B
UT YOUR THEORY SAYS THAT YOU MUST
.
I
T IS EASILY POSSIBLE WITHIN THE PHYSICAL LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE, AND THEREFORE MUST HAPPEN, AND HAPPEN MANY TIMES
.
E
VERY MOMENT IS A BILLION, BILLION MOMENTS, AND IN THOSE MOMENTS ALL THINGS THAT ARE POSSIBLE ARE INEVITABLE. ALL TIME, SOONER OR LATER, BOILS DOWN TO A MOMENT
.

‘But of course we can make choices between—’

A
RE THERE CHOICES?
E
VERYTHING THAT CAN HAPPEN, MUST HAPPEN
.
Y
OUR THEORY SAYS THAT FOR EVERY UNIVERSE THAT’S FORMED TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR ‘NO’, THERE MUST BE ONE TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR ‘YES’
.
B
UT YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER COMMIT MURDER
.
T
HE FABRIC OF THE COSMOS TREMBLES BEFORE YOUR TERRIBLE CERTAINTY
.
Y
OUR MORALITY BECOMES A FORCE AS STRONG AS GRAVITY
. And, thought Death, space certainly has a lot to answer for.

‘Was that sarcasm?’

A
CTUALLY, NO
. I
AM IMPRESSED AND INTRIGUED
, said Death.
T
HE CONCEPT YOU PUT BEFORE ME PROVES THE EXISTENCE OF TWO HITHERTO MYTHICAL PLACES
.
S
OMEWHERE, THERE IS A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, THE MORAL CHOICE, THE CHOICE THAT MAXIMIZED THE HAPPINESS OF THEIR FELLOW CREATURES
.
O
F COURSE, THAT ALSO MEANS THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE IS THE SMOKING REMNANT OF THE WORLD WHERE THEY DID NOT …

‘Oh, come on! I know what you’re implying, and I’ve never believed in any of that Heaven and Hell nonsense!’

The room was growing darker. The blue gleam along the edge of the Reaper’s scythe was becoming more obvious.

A
STONISHING
, said Death.
R
EALLY ASTONISHING
.
L
ET ME PUT FORWARD ANOTHER SUGGESTION: THAT YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A LUCKY SPECIES OF APE THAT IS TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THE COMPLEXITIES OF CREATION VIA A LANGUAGE THAT EVOLVED IN ORDER TO TELL ONE ANOTHER WHERE THE RIPE FRUIT WAS
.

Fighting for breath, the philosopher managed to say, ‘Don’t be silly.’

T
HE REMARK WAS NOT INTENDED AS DEROGATORY
, said Death.
U
NDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, YOU HAVE ACHIEVED A GREAT DEAL
.

‘We’ve certainly escaped from outmoded superstitions!’

W
ELL DONE
, said Death.
T
HAT’S THE SPIRIT
. I
JUST WANTED TO CHECK
.

He leaned forward.

A
ND YOU ARE AWARE OF THE THEORY THAT THE STATE OF SOME TINY PARTICLES IS INDETERMINATE UNTIL THE MOMENT THEY ARE OBSERVED?
A
CAT IN A BOX IS OFTEN MENTIONED
.

‘Oh, yes,’ said the philosopher.

G
OOD
, said Death. He got to his feet as the last of the light died, and smiled.

I
SEE YOU
…

A COLLEGIATE CASTING-OUT OF DEVILISH DEVICES

T
IMES
H
IGHER
E
DUCATION
S
UPPLEMENT
,
13
M
AY 2005

Well, they asked for it and they got it, because at that time there was some debate around issues to do with government money being given to universities and universities not being particularly happy about being told what to do by governments. Fortunately for Unseen University, they don’t have to ask
anybody
for
anything.
And only now can I reveal that this short passage owes a little something to the Thursday afternoon meetings I used to have when I was chairman of the Society of Authors, where I learned the importance of listening for the tea trolley and the etiquette of the chocolate biscuits, surely an essential component of real committee work
.

It was a Thursday afternoon. Unseen University’s college council liked their Thursday afternoon meetings. The Council Chamber,
with
its stained-glass image of Archchancellor Sloman Discovering The Special Theory of Slood, was always nice and warm and there was a distant prospect of tea and chocolate biscuits at half-past three.

Just as the biscuit hour approached, Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully drummed his fingers on the battered leather of the table.

‘Next item, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and it appears that Lord Vetinari, our
gracious
ruler, has seen fit to confront us with a little … test. Possibly we have annoyed him, in some way, committed some little faux pas—’

‘This is about Mayhap Street, isn’t it?’ said the Dean. ‘Still not turned up, has it?’

‘There is nothing the matter with Mayhap Street, Dean,’ said Ridcully sharply. ‘It is merely temporarily displaced, that’s all. I am assured the rest of the continuum will catch up with it no later than Thursday. It was an accident that was waiting to happen—’

‘Well, only waiting for a thaumic discharge that happened because you said there was no way it could possibly—’ the Dean began. He was clearly enjoying himself.

‘Dean! We are going to move on and put this behind us!’ Ridcully snapped.

‘Excuse me, Archchancellor?’ said Ponder Stibbons, who was Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic and also the University’s Praelector, a position interpreted at UU as ‘the one who gets given the tedious jobs’.

‘Yes, Stibbons?’

‘It may be a good idea to put it behind us
before
we move on, sir,’ said Ponder. ‘That way it will be further behind us when we do, in fact, move.’

‘Good point, that man. See to it,’ said Ridcully. He turned his attention once again to the ominous manilla folder in front of him.
‘Anyway
, gentlemen, his lordship has appointed a Mr A. E. Pessimal, a man of whom I know little, as Inspector of Universities. His job, I suspect, is to drag us kicking and no doubt screaming into the Century of the Fruitbat.’

‘That was in fact the last century, Archchancellor,’ said Ponder.

‘Well, we are hard to drag and very good at kicking,’ said Ridcully. ‘He has made a few little, ah, suggestions for improvement …’

‘Really? This should be fun,’ said the Dean.

Ridcully pushed the folder to his right.

‘Over to you, Mr Stibbons.’

‘Yes, Archchancellor. Er … thank you. Um. As you know, the city has always waived all taxes on the University—’

‘Because they know what would happen if they tried it,’ said the Dean, with some satisfaction.

‘Yes,’ said Ponder. ‘And, then again, no. I fear we are past the times when a little shape-changing or a couple of fireballs would do the trick. That is not the modern spirit. It would be a good idea to at least
examine
Mr Pessimal’s suggestions …’

There was a general shrugging. It would at least pass the time until the tea turned up.

‘Firstly,’ said Ponder, ‘Mr Pessimal wants to know what we do here.’

‘Do? We are the premier college of magic!’ said Ridcully.

‘But do we teach?’

‘Only if no alternative presents itself,’ said the Dean. ‘We show ’em where the library is, give ’em a few little chats, and graduate the survivors. If they run into any problems, my door is always metaphorically open.’

‘Metaphorically, sir?’ said Ponder.

‘Yes. But technically, of course, it’s locked.’

‘Explain to him that we don’t
do
things, Stibbons,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘We are
academics
.’

‘Interestin’ idea, though,’ said Ridcully, winking at Ponder. ‘What
do
you do, Senior Wrangler?’

A hunted look crossed the Senior Wrangler’s face. ‘Well, er,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘The post of Senior Wrangler at Unseen University is, most unusually—’

‘Yes, but what do you
do
? And have you been doing more of it in the past six months than in the previous six?’

‘Well, if we’re asking
that
kind of question, Archchancellor, what do
you
do?’ said the Dean, testily.

‘I administer, Dean,’ said Ridcully, calmly.

‘Then we must be doing
something
, otherwise you’d have nothing to administrate.’

‘That comment strikes at the very heart of the bureaucratic principle, Dean, and I shall ignore it.’

‘You see, Mr Pessimal wonders why we don’t publish the results of, er, whatever it is we do,’ said Ponder.

‘
Publish
?’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

‘
Results
?’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.

‘Ook?’ said the Librarian.

‘Brazeneck College publishes its
Journal of Irreducible Research
four times a year now,’ said Ponder meekly.

‘Yes. Six copies,’ said Ridcully.

‘No wizard worth his salt tells other wizards what he’s up to!’ snapped the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘Besides, how can you measure thinking? You can count the tables a carpenter makes, but what kind of rule could measure the amount of thought necessary to define the essence of tableosity?’

‘Exactly!’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘I myself have been working on my Theory of Anything for fifteen years! The amount
of
thought that has gone into it is astonishing! Those six-seven pages have been hard won, I can tell you!’

‘And I’ve seen some of those Brazeneck papers,’ said Ridcully. ‘They’ve got titles like “Diothumatic Aspects of Cheese in Mice”, or possibly it was Mice in Cheese. Or maybe Chess.’

‘And what was it about?’ said the Dean.

‘Oh, I don’t think it was for reading. It was for having written,’ said the Archchancellor. ‘Anyway, no one knows what Diothumics is, except that it’s probably magic with the crusts cut off.’