Thief of Time

“That cannot be the case,” said Mr White. “There is an infinite number of colours.”

“But there are not that many names,” said Miss Taupe.

“That is not possible. A colour must have a name.”

“We can find only one hundred and three names for green before the colour becomes noticeably either blue or yellow,” said Miss Crimson.

“But the shades are endless!”

“Nevertheless, the names are not.”

“This is a problem that must be solved. Add it to the list, Miss Brown. We must name every possible shade.”

One of the female Auditors looked startled. “I cannot remember all the things,” she said. “Nor do I understand why you are giving orders.”

“Apart from the renegade, I have the greatest seniority as an incarnate.”

“Only by a matter of seconds,” said Miss Brown.

“That is immaterial. Seniority is seniority. This is a fact.”

It was a fact. Auditors respected facts. And it was also a fact, Mr White knew, that there were now more than seven hundred Auditors walking rather awkwardly around the city.

Mr White had put a stop to the relentless increase in incarnations as more and more of his fellows rushed into the trouble spot. It was too dangerous. The renegade had demonstrated, he pointed out, that the human shape forced the mind to think in a certain troublesome way. The utmost caution was necessary. This was a fact. Only those with a proven ability to survive the process should be allowed to incarnate and complete the work. This was a fact.

Auditors respected facts. At least until now. Miss Brown took a step back.

“Nevertheless,” she said, “being here is dangerous. It is my view that we should discarnate.”

Mr White found his body replying by itself. It let out a breath of air.

“And leave things unknown?” he said. “Things that are unknown are dangerous. We are learning much.”

“What we are learning makes no sense,” said Miss Brown.

“The more we learn, the more sense it will make. There is nothing we cannot understand,” said Mr White.

“I do not understand why it is that I now perceive a desire to bring my hand in sharp contact with your face,” said Miss Brown.

“Exactly my point,” said Mr White. “You do not understand it, and therefore it is dangerous. Perform the act, and we will know more.”

She hit him.

He raised his hand to his cheek.

“Unbidden thoughts of avoidance of repetition are engendered,” he said. “Also heat. Remarkably, the body does indeed appear to do some thinking on its own behalf.”

“For my part,” said Miss Brown, “the unbidden thoughts are of satisfaction coupled with apprehension.”

“Already we learn more about humans,” said Mr White.

“To what end?” said Miss Brown, whose sensations of apprehension were increasing at the sight of the contorted expression on Mr White's face. “For our purposes, they are no longer a factor. Time has ended. They are fossils. The skin under one of your eyes is twitching.”

“You are guilty of inappropriate thought,” said Mr White. “They exist. Therefore we must study them in every detail. I wish to try a further experiment. My eye is functioning perfectly.”

He took an axe from a market stall. Miss Brown took another step back.

“Unbidden thoughts of apprehension increase markedly,” she said.

“Yet this is a mere lump of metal on a piece of wood,” said Mr White, hefting the axe. “We, who have seen the hearts of stars. We, who have watched worlds burn. We, who have seen space tormented. What is there about this axe that could cause concern to us?”

He swung. It was a clumsy blow and the human neck is a lot tougher than people believe, but Miss Brown's neck exploded into coloured motes and she collapsed.

Mr White looked around at the nearest Auditors, who all stepped back.

“Is there anyone else who wishes to try the experiment?” he said.

There was a chorus of hasty refusals.

“Good,” said Mr White. “Already we are learning a great deal!”

“He chopped her head off!”

“Don't shout! And keep your head down!” Susan hissed.

“But he—”

“I think she knows! Anyway, it's an it. And so's it.”

“What's going on?”

Susan drew back into the shadows.

“I'm not… entirely sure,” she said, “but I think they've tried to make themselves human bodies. Pretty good copies, too. And now… they're acting human.”

“Do you call that acting human?”

Susan gave Lobsang a sad look. “You don't get out much, do you? My grandfather says that if an intelligent creature takes a human shape, it starts to think human. Form defines function.”

“That was the action of an intelligent creature?” said Lobsang, still shocked.

“Not only doesn't get out much, also doesn't read history,” said Susan glumly. “Do you know about the curse of the werewolves?”

“Isn't being a werewolf curse enough?”

“They don't think so. But if they stay wolf-shaped for too long, they stay a wolf,” said Susan. “A wolf is a very strong… form, you see? Even though the mind is human, the wolf creeps in through the noses and the ears and the paws. Know about witches?”

“We, er, stole the broomstick of one of them to get here,” said Lobsang.