Soul Music

Buddy felt his eyes watering. It looked like a troll, except that it was shorter than a dwarf. It wasn't smaller than a dwarf ‑ what Asphalt lacked in height he made up in breadth and, while on the subject, also in smell.

" How come," said Cliff, "he's so short?"

"N'elephant sat on me," said Asphalt, sulkily.

Glod blew his nose.

" Only sat?"

Asphalt was already wearing a 'Band With Rocks In' shirt. It was tight across the chest but reached down to the floor.

" Asphalt'll look after you," said Dibbler. "There isn't anything he doesn't know about show business."

Asphalt gave them a big grin.

" You'll be OK with me," he said. "I've worked with 'em all, I have. Been everywhere, done it all."

" We could go to the Fronts," said Cliff. "No‑one around there when the University's on holiday."

" Good. Got things to organize," said Dibbler. "See you tonight. The Cavern. Seven o'clock."

He strode off.

" You know the funny thing about him?" said Glod.

" What?"

" The way he was smoking that sausage. Do you think he knew?"

Asphalt grabbed Cliff's bag and slung it easily over his shoulder.

" Let's go, boss," he said.

" An elephant sat on you?" said Buddy, as they crossed the square.

" Yup. At the circus," said Asphalt. "I used to muck 'em arht."

" That's how you got like that?"

" Nope. Dint get like this 'til elephants had sat on me tree, fo' times," said the small flat troll. "Dunno why. I'd be cleanin' up after 'em, next minute it'd all be dark."

" I'd have quit after the first time, me," said Glod.

" Nah," said Asphalt, with a contented smile. "Couldn't do that. Show business is in me soul."

Ponder looked down at the thing they had hammered together.

" I don't understand it either," he said. "But... it looks as though we can trap it in a string, and it makes the string play the music again. It's like an iconograph for sound."

They'd put the wire inside the box, which resonated beautifully. It played the same dozen bars, over and over again.

" A box of music," said Ridcully. "My word!"

" What I'd like to try," said Ponder, "is getting the musicians to play in front of a lot of strings like this. Perhaps we could trap the music."

" What for?" said Ridcully. " What on Disc for?"

" Well... if you could get music in boxes you wouldn't need musicians any more."

Ridcully hesitated. There was a lot to be said for the idea. A world without musicians had a certain appeal. They were a scruffy bunch, in his experience. Quite unhygienic.

He shook his head, reluctantly.

" Not this sort of music," he said. `We want to stop it, not make more of it."

" What exactly is wrong with it?" said Ponder.

" It's... well, can't you see?" said Ridcully. "It makes people act funny. Wear funny clothes. Be rude. Not do what they're told. I can't do a thing with them. It's not right. Besides... remember Mr Hong."

" It's certainly very unusual," said Ponder. "Can we get some more? For study purposes? Archchancellor?"

Ridcully shrugged. " We follow the Dean," he said.

" Good grief," breathed Buddy, in the huge echoing emptiness. "No wonder they call it the Cavern. It's huge."

" I feel dwarfed," said Glod.

Asphalt ambled to the front of the stage.

" One two, one two," he said. "One. One. One two, one tw‑–"

" Three," said Buddy helpfully.

Asphalt stopped and looked embarrassed.

" Just trying the, you know, just trying the... trying out the..." he muttered. "Just trying... it."

" We'll never fill this," said Buddy.

Glod poked in a box by the side of the stage.

He said, "We might. Look at these."

He unrolled a poster. The others clustered around.

" Days a picture of us," said Cliff. "Someone painted a picture of us."

" Looking mean," said Glod.

"S a good one of Buddy," said Asphalt. "Waving his guitar like that."

" Why's there all that lightning and stuff?" said Buddy.

" I never look that mean even when I'm mean," said Glod.

"'The New Sounde Dat's Goin' Arounde"," Cliff read, his forehead wrinkling with the effort.

"'The Bande With Rockes"," said Glod.

" Oh, no. It says we're going to be here and everything," moaned Glod. "We're dead."

" "Bee There Orr Bee A Rectangular Thyng"," said Cliff. "I don't understand that."

" There's dozens of these rolls in here," said Glod. "They're posters. You know what that means? He's been having them stuck up in places. Talking of which, when the Musicians' Guild get hold of us–"

" Music's free," said Buddy. "It has to be free."

" What?" said Glod. "Not in this dwarf's town!"

" Then it should be," said Buddy. "People shouldn't have to pay to play music."

" Right! That boy's right! That's just what I've always said! Isn't that what I've always said? That's what I've said, right enough."