Hogfather

NO. THEY SAY  YOU ARE A  THINKER.  EXTEND LOGICALLY THE  RESULT OF  THE HUMAN  RACE  CEASING TO BELIEVE  IN  THE  HOGFATHER. WILL  THE SUN  COME UP? ANSWER.

     It took several minutes. The wheels spun. The ants  ran.  The mouse squeaked. An  eggtimer came down on a  spring. It bounced aimlessly for a while, and then jerked back up again.

     Hex wrote: +++ The Sun Will Not Come Up +++

CORRECT. HOW MAY THIS BE PREVENTED? ANSWER.

     +++ Regular and Consistent Belief +++

GOOD. I HAVE A TASK FOR YOU, THINKING ENGINE.

     +++ Yes. I Am Preparing An Area Of WriteOnly Memory +++

WHAT IS THAT?

     +++ You Would Say: To Know In Your Bones +++

GOOD. HERE IS YOUR INSTRUCTION. BELIEVE IN

THE HOGFATHER.

     +++ Yes +++

DO YOU BELIEVE? ANSWER.

     +++ Yes +++

DO... YOU... BELIEVE? ANSWER.

     +++ YES +++

     There was a change  in  the ill-assembled heap of pipes  and tubes that was Hex. The  big wheel creaked into a new position.  From the other side of the wall came the hum of busy bees.

GOOD.

     Death turned to  leave the  room, but  stopped when Hex  began to write furiously. He went back and looked at the emerging paper.

     +++ Dear Hogfather, For Hogswatch I Want

     OH, NO. YOU CAN'T WRITE LETT... Death paused, and then said, YOU CAN, CAN'T YOU.

     +++ Yes. I Am Entitled +++

     Death waited until the pen had stopped, and picked up the paper.

BUT  YOU ARE  A  MACHINE. THINGS HAVE  NO  DESIRES.  A  DOORKNOB  WANTS NOTHING, EVEN THOUGH IT IS A COMPLEX MACHINE.

     +++ All Things Strive +++

     YOU  HAVE A POINT, said  Death. He  thought of tiny  red petals in  the black depths, and read to the end of the list.

     I DON'T KNOW WHAT  MOST OF THESE  THINGS  ARE.  I DON'T  THINK THE SACK WILL, EITHER.

     +++ I Regret This +++

     BUT WE WILL DO THE BEST WE CAN, said Death.

     FRANKLY, I  SHALL BE CLAD WHEN TONIGHT'S OVER. IT'S MUCH HARDER TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE. He rummaged in his sack. LET ME SEE... HOW OLD ARE YOU?

     Susan crept up the stairs, one hand on the hilt of the sword.

     Ponder Stibbons had been worried to find himself, as a wizard, awaiting the  arrival of  the Hogfather.  It's  amazing  how  people define roles for themselves  and  put  handcuffs  on  their  experience  and  are  constantly surprised  by the  things a roulette universe spins at them. Here am I, they say, a  mere wholesale fishmonger,  at the  controls  of  a  giant  airliner because as it turns out all the crew had the Coronation Chicken. Who'd have thought it?  Here  am  I, a  housewife  who merely went  out  this morning  to bank  the proceeds of the Playgroup Association's Car Boot Sale, on the run with one  million  in stolen cash  and a rather handsome man from the  Battery  Chickens'  Liberation Organization.  Amazing!  Here  am  I,  a perfectly ordinary hockey player, suddenly realizing I'm the Son of God with five hundred  devoted followers  in  a nice little  commune in  Empowerment, Southern California. Who'd have thought it?

     Here am I,  thought Susan, a very practically minded governess  who can add up faster upside down than most people can the right way up, climbing up a toothshaped tower  belonging  to the Tooth Fairy  and armed with  a  sword belonging to Death...

     Again!  I wish  one month, just one  damn  month, could  go by  without something like this happening to me.

     She could hear voices above her. Someone said something about a lock.

     She peered over the edge of the stairwell.

     It looked as though people had been  camping  out  up here.  There were boxes and sleeping  rolls strewn around. A couple  of  men  were  sitting on boxes watching a third man who was working on a door in one curved wall. One of the  men  was the biggest Susan had ever seen,  one of those huge fat men who contrive to indicate that a lot of the fat under their shapeless clothes is muscle. The other

     'Hello,' said a cheerful voice by her ear. 'What's your name?'

     She made herself turn her head slowly.

     First she saw the grey, glinting eye. Then the yellowwhite one with the tiny dot of a pupil came into view.

     Around them was a friendly pink and white face topped by curly hair. It was  actually  quite  pretty, in  a boyish sort of  way, except  that  those mismatched eyes  staring out of it suggested  that  it  had been stolen from someone else.

     She  started to move her hand but the boy was there first, dragging the sword scabbard out of her belt.

     'Ah, ah!' he chided, turning and  fending her off as she tried  to grab it. 'Wen, well, well. My word. White bone handle, rather tasteless skull and bone decoration... Death himself's  second favourite weapon, am I right? Oh, my! This must be Hogswatch! And this must mean that you are Susan Sto-Helit. Nobility.  I'd  bow,'  he  added,  dancing back, 'but I'm  afraid  you'd  do something dreadful ...'

     There  was  a click,  and a little gasp  of  excitement from the wizard working on the door.

     'Yes! Yes! Left-handed using a wooden pick! That's simple!'

     He saw that even Susan was looking at him, and coughed nervously.

     'Er, I've  got  the  fifth lock  open, Mister  Teatime! Not a  problem! They're just based on Woddeley's