Thief of Time

“You don't think so? Well, your big comeback ain't gonna happen now that the Auditors have taken over! The rules, mister! That's what they are! Theyre the cold dead rules!”

Silver lightning flickered in the walking cloud that had once been Ronnie. Then cloud, cart and horse vanished.

“Well, could have been worse, I suppose,” said Lu-Tze to himself. “Not a very bright lad, really. Possibly a bit too old-fashioned.”

He turned round and found a crowd of Auditors watching him. There were dozens of them.

He sighed and grinned his sheepish little grin. He'd had just about enough for one day.

“Well I expect you have heard of Rule One, right?” he said.

That seemed to give them pause. One said, “We know millions of rules, human.”

“Billions. Trillions,” said another.

“Well you can't attack me,” said Lu-Tze, “'cos of Rule One.”

The nearest Auditors went into a huddle.

“It must involve gravitation.”

“No, quantum effects. Obviously.”

“Logically there cannot be a Rule One because at that point there would be no concept of plurality.”

“But if there is not a Rule One, can there be any other rules? If there is no Rule One, where is Rule Two?”

“There are millions of rules! They cannot fail to be numbered!”

Wonderful thought Lu-Tze. All I have to do is wait until their heads melt.

But an Auditor stepped forward. It looked more wild-eyed than the others, and was much more unkempt. It was also carrying an axe.

“We do not have to discuss this!” it snapped. “We must think: This is nonsense, we will not discuss it!”

“But what is Rule—” an Auditor began.

“You will call me Mr White!”

“Mr White, what is Rule One?”

“I am not glad you asked that question!” screamed Mr White, and swung the axe. The body of the other Auditor crumbled in around the blade, dissolving into floating motes that dispersed in a fine cloud.

“Anyone else got any questions?” said Mr White, raising the axe again.

One or two Auditors, not yet entirely in tune with current developments, opened their mouths to speak. And shut them again.

Lu-Tze took a few steps back. He prided himself on an incredibly well-honed ability to talk his way in or out of anything, but that rather depended on a passably sane entity being involved at the other end of the dialogue.

Mr White turned to Lu-Tze. “What are you doing out of your place, organic?”

But Lu-Tze was overhearing another, whispered conversation. It was coming from the other side of a nearby wall, and it went like this:

“Who cares about the damn wording!”

“Accuracy is important, Susan. There is a precise description on the little map inside the lid. Look.”

“And you think that will impress anyone?”

“Please. Things should be done properly.”

“Oh, give it to me, then!”

Mr White advanced on Lu-Tze, axe raised. “It is forbidden to—” he began.

“Eat… Oh, good grief… Eat… ‘a delicious fondant sugar creme infused with delightfully rich and creamy raspberry filling wrapped in mysterious dark chocolate’… you grey bastards!”

A shower of small objects pattered down on the street. Several of them broke open.

Lu-Tze heard a whine or, rather, the silence caused by the absence of a whine he'd grown used to.

“Oh, no, I'm winding dow…”

Trailing smoke, but looking more like a milkman again, albeit one that'd just delivered to a blazing house, Ronnie Soak stormed into his dairy.

“Who does he think he is?” he muttered, gripping the spotless edge of a counter so hard that the metal bent. “Hah, oh yes, they just toss you aside, but when they want you to make a comeback—”

Under his fingers the metal went white hot and then dripped.

“I've got customers. I've got customers. People depend on me. It might not be a glamorous job, but people will always need milk—”

He clapped a hand to his forehead. Where the molten metal touched his skin the metal evaporated.

The headache was really bad.

He could remember the time when there was only him. It was hard to remember, because… there was nothing, no colour, no sound, no pressure, no time, no spin, no light, no life…

Just Kaos.

And the thought arose: Do I want that again? The perfect order that goes with changelessness?