Thief of Time

He recognized them. They were not life forms. They were… nonlife-forms. They were the observers of the operation of the universe, its clerks, its auditors. They saw to it that things spun and rocks fell.

And they believed that for a thing to exist it had to have a position in time and space. Humanity had arrived as a nasty shock. Humanity practically was things that didn't have a position in time and space, such as imagination, pity, hope, history and belief. Take those away and all you had was an ape that fell out of trees a lot.

Intelligent life was, therefore, an anomaly. It made the filing untidy. The Auditors hated things like that. Periodically, they tried to tidy things up a little.

The year before, astronomers across the Discworld had been puzzled to see the stars wheel gently across the sky as the world-turtle executed a roll. The thickness of the world never allowed them to see why, but Great A'Tuin's ancient head had snaked out and down and had snapped right out of the sky the speeding asteroid that would, had it hit, have meant that no one would have needed to buy a diary ever again.

No, the world could take care of obvious threats like that. So now the grey robes preferred more subtle, cowardly skirmishes in their endless desire for a universe where nothing happened that was not completely predictable.

The butter-side-down effect was only a trivial but telling indicator. It showed an increase in activity. Give up, was their eternal message. Go back to being blobs in the ocean. Blobs are easy.

But the great game went on at many levels, Death knew. And often it was hard to know who was playing.

EVERY CAUSE HAS ITS EFFECT, he said aloud. SO EVERY EFFECT HAS ITS CAUSE.

He nodded at the Death of Rats. SHOW ME, said Death. SHOW ME… A BEGINNING.

Tick

It was a bitter winter's night. The man hammered on the back door, sending snow sliding off the roof.

The girl, who had been admiring her new hat in the mirror, tweaked the already low neckline of her dress for slightly more exposure, just in case the caller was male, and went and opened the door.

A figure was outlined against the freezing starlight. Flakes were already building up on his cloak.

“Mrs Ogg? The midwife?” he said.

“It's Miss, actually,” she said proudly. “And witch, too, o'course.” She indicated her new black pointy hat. She was still at the stage of wearing it in the house.

“You must come at once. It's very urgent.”

The girl looked suddenly panic-stricken. “Is it Mrs Weaver? I didn't reckon she was due for another couple of we—”

“I have come a long way,” said the figure. “They say you are the best in the world.”

“What? Me? I've only delivered one!” said Miss Ogg, now looking hunted. “Biddy Spective is a lot more experienced than me! And old Minnie Forthwright! Mrs Weaver was going to be my first solo, 'cos she's built like a wardro—”

“I do beg your pardon. I will not trespass further on your time.”

The stranger retreated into the flake-speckled shadows.

“Hello?” said Miss Ogg. “Hello?”

But there was nothing there, except footprints. Which stopped in the middle of the snow-covered path…

Tick

There was a hammering on the door. Mrs Ogg put down the child that had been sitting on her knee and went and raised the latch.

A dark figure stood outlined against the warm summer evening sky, and there was something strange about its shoulders.

“Mrs Ogg? You are married now?”

“Yep. Twice,” said Mrs Ogg cheerfully. “What can I do for y—”

“You must come at once. Its very urgent.”

“I didn't know anyone was—”

“I have come a long way,” said the figure.

Mrs Ogg paused. There was something in the way he had pronounced long. And now she could see that the whiteness on the cloak was snow, melting fast. Faint memory stirred.

“Well, now,” she said, because she'd learned a lot in the last twenty years or so, “that's as may be, and I'll always do the best I can, ask anyone. But I wouldn't say I'm the best. Always learnin' something new, that's me.”

“Oh. In that case I will call at a more convenient… moment.”

“Why've you got snow on—?”

But, without ever quite vanishing, the stranger was no longer present…

Tick

There was a hammering on the door. Nanny Ogg carefully put down her brandy nightcap and stared at the wall for a moment. Now a lifetime of edge witchery4 had honed senses that most people never really knew they had, and something in her head went “click”.

On the hob the kettle for her hot-water bottle was just coming to the boil.

She laid down her pipe, got up and opened the door on this springtime midnight.

“You've come a long way, I'm thinking,” she said, showing no surprise at the dark figure.

“That is true, Mrs Ogg.”

“Everyone who knows me calls me Nanny.”

She looked down at the melting snow dripping off the cloak. It hadn't snowed up here for a month.

“And it's urgent, I expect?” she said, as memory unrolled.

“Indeed.”

“And now you got to say, ‘You must come at once.’”

“You must come at once.”