Soul Music

"Sound looks like," said Ridcully. "Well, there's a thing. I never saw sound looking like that. This is what you boys used magic for, is it? Looking at sound? Hey, we've got some nice cheese in the kitchen, how about we go and listen to how it smells?"

Ponder sighed.

"It's what sound would be if your ears were eyes," he said.

"Really?" said Ridcully, brightly. "Amazing!"

"It looks very complicated," said Ponder. "Simple when you look at it from a distance and up close, very complex. Almost…"

"Alive," said Ridcully, firmly.

"Er …"

It was the one known as Skazz. He looked about seven stone and had the most interesting haircut Ridcully had ever seen, since it consisted of a shoulderlength fringe of hair all round. It was only the tip of his nose poking out which told the world which way he was facing. If he ever developed a boil on the back of his neck, people would think he was walking the wrong way.

"Yes, Mr Skazz?" said Ridcully.

"Er. I read something about this once," said Skazz.

"Remarkable. How did you manage that?"

"You know the Listening Monks up in the Ramtops? They say that there's a background noise to the universe? A sort of echo of some sound?"

"Sounds sensible to me. The whole universe starting up, bound to make a big bang," said Ridcully.

"It wouldn't have to be very loud," said Ponder. "It'd just have to be everywhere, all at once. I read that book. Old Riktor the Counter wrote it. The Monks are still listening to it, he said. A sound that never fades away."

"Sounds like loud to me," said Ridcully. "Got to be loud to be heard any distance. If the wind's in the wrong direction, you can't even hear the bells on the Assassins' Guild."

"It wouldn't have to be loud to be heard everywhere," said Ponder. "The reason being, at that point everywhere was all in one place."

Ridcully gave him the look people give conjurors who've just removed an egg from their ear.

"Everywhere was all in one place?"

"Yes."

"So where was everywhere else?"

"That was all in one place, too."

"The same place?"

"Yes."

"Crunched up very small?"

Ridcully was beginning to show certain signs. If he had been a volcano, natives living nearby would be looking for a handy virgin.

"Haha, in fact you could say it was crunched up very big," said Ponder, who always walked into it. "The reason being, space didn't exist until there was a universe, so anything there was, was everywhere."

"The same everywhere we had just now?"

"Yes."

"All right. Go on."

"Riktor said he thought that the sound came first. One great big complicated chord. The biggest, most complicated sound there ever was. A sound so complex that you couldn't play it within a universe, any more than you can open a box with the crowbar that's inside it. One great chord which… as it were… played everything into being. Started the music, if you like."

"A sort of ta‑dahhh?" said Ridcully.

"I suppose so."

"I thought the universe came into being because some god cut off some other god's wedding tackle and made the universe out of it," said Ridcully. "Always seemed straightforward to me. I mean, it's the kind of thing you can imagine happenin'."

"Well—"

"Now you're telling me someone blew a big hooter and here we are?"

"I don't know about someone," said Ponder.

"Noises don't just make themselves, that I do know," said Ridcully.

He relaxed a bit, certain in his own mind that reason had prevailed, and patted Ponder on the back.

"It needs some work, lad," he said. "Old Riktor was a bit… unsound, y'know. He thought everything came down to numbers."

"Mind you," said Ponder, "the universe does have a rhythm. Day and night, light and dark, life and death—"

"Chicken soup and croutons," said Ridcully.

"Well, not every metaphor bears close examination."

There was a knock on the door. Tez the Terrible entered, carrying a tray. He was followed by Mrs Whitlow, the housekeeper.

Ridcully's jaw dropped.

Mrs Whitlow curtsied.

"Good morning, hyour grace," she said.

Her ponytail bobbed. There was a rustle of starched petticoats.

Ridcully's jaw rose again, but only so that he could say: "What have you done to your—"

"Excuse me, Mrs Whitlow," said Ponder quickly, "but have you served breakfast to any of the faculty this morning?"

"That's right, Mr Stibbons," said Mrs Whitlow. Her ample and mysterious bosom shifted under its sweater. "None of the gentlemen came down, so I got trays taken up to them all. Daddio."

Ridcully's gaze continued downwards. He'd never thought of Mrs Whitlow as having legs before. Of course, in theory the woman needed something to move around on, but… well…

But there were two pudgy knees protruding from the huge mushroom of skirts. Further down there were white socks.

"Your hair—"he began, hoarsely.

"Is there something wrong?" said Mrs Whitlow.

"Nothing, nothing," said Ponder. "Thank you very much."

The door closed behind her.

"She was snapping her fingers as she went out, just like you said," said Ponder.

"Wasn't the only thing that's snapped," said Ridcully, still shuddering.