Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [109]
The senses seemed to operate and present her with conclusions before she had time to think.
At the moment she was trying to explain to other Auditors that not feeding an elephant when there was no elephant not to feed was not, in fact, impossible. Miss Tangerine was one of the faster-learning Auditors and had already formulated a group of things, events, and situations that she categorized as “bloody stupid.” Things that were “bloody stupid” could be dismissed.
Some of the others were having difficulty understanding this, but now she stopped in midharangue when she heard the rumble of the elevator.
“Do we have anyone upstairs?” she demanded.
The Auditors around her shook their heads. “Ignore This Sign” had produced too much confusion.
“Then someone is coming down!” said Miss Tangerine. “They are out of place! They must be stopped!”
“We must discuss—” an Auditor began.
“Do what I say, you organic organ!”
“It’s a matter of personalities,” said Lady LeJean, as Susan pushed open a door in the roof and stepped out onto the leads.
“Yes?” said Susan, looking around at the silent city. “I thought you didn’t have them.”
“They will have them now,” said Lady LeJean, climbing out behind her. “And personalities define themselves in terms of other personalities.”
Susan, prowling along the parapet, considered this strange statement.
“You mean there will be flaming rows?” she said.
“Yes. We have never had egos before.”
“Well, you seem to be managing.”
“Only by becoming completely and utterly insane,” said her ladyship.
Susan turned. Lady LeJean’s hat and dress had become even more tattered, and she was shedding sequins. The journey through the museum had done nothing at all for her makeup, either.
“You don’t look insane,” lied Susan. “As such.”
“Thank you. But sanity is defined by the majority, I am afraid. Do you know the saying ‘The whole is greater than the sum of the parts’?”
“Of course.” Susan scanned the rooftops for a way down. She did not need this. The…thing seemed to want to talk. Or, rather, to chatter aimlessly.
“It is an insane statement. It is a nonsense. But now I believe that it is true.”
“Good. That elevator should be getting down about…now.”
Slivers of blue light, like trout slipping through a stream, danced around the elevator door.
The Auditors gathered. They had been learning. Many of them had acquired weapons. And a number of them had taken care not to communicate to the others that gripping something offensive in the hand seemed a very natural thing to do. It spoke to something right down in the back of the brain.
It was, therefore, unfortunate that when a couple of them pulled open the elevator door it was to reveal, slightly melting in the middle of the floor, a cherry liqueur chocolate.
The scent wafted.
There was only one survivor and, when Miss Tangerine ate the chocolate, there wasn’t even that.
“One of life’s little certainties,” said Susan, standing on the edge of the museum’s parapet, “is that there is generally a last chocolate hidden in all those empty wrappers.”
Then she reached down and grabbed the top of a drainpipe.
She wasn’t certain how this would work. If she fell…but would she fall? There was no time to fall. She had her own personal time. In theory, if anything so definite as a theory existed in a case like this, that meant she could just drift down to the ground. But the time to test a theory like that was when you had no other choice. A theory was just an idea, but a drainpipe was a fact.
The blue light flickered around her hands.
“Lobsang?” she said quietly, “It is you, isn’t it?”
That name is as good as any for us. The voice was as faint as a breath.
“This may seem a stupid question, but where are you?”
We are just a memory. And I am weak.
“Oh.” Susan slid a little further.
But I will grow strong. Get to the clock.
“What’s the point? There was nothing we could do!”
Times have changed.
Susan reached the ground. Lady LeJean followed, moving clumsily. Her evening dress had acquired