Things To Do Today: Die, or The Dis-Organizer's Fate.
Commander Samuel Vimes was never quite sure, later, how he managed to survive that day. Something had run through his veins that had given him the surety that this was it; it was the end. There was no law anymore; the law had failed him. Carrot was dead; Cheery was dead. So were Sergeant Detritus, Corporals Dorfl, and Visit; and Sergeant Angua, Fred, and Nobby had disappeared entirely, never to return. Even Willikins.
He'd stood above Carrot's body, staring 71-hour Ahmed in the face, holding a Burleigh and Stronginthearm crossbow in his hands, and waited to die. He'd hoped to take the bastard that had gotten his Watch involved down with him. He'd told the bastard that, too.
It hadn't happened. Ahmed had turned and walked away, and Vimes hadn't been able to find the strength to pull that trigger. The strength that he'd felt just seconds before was gone.
He'd taken hold of Carrot's body, and gone home. Sybil had held him, right up until his Dis-organizer had chimed and announced it was time to Convince Corporal Nobbs to Put His Uniform Back On. Vimes' eyes had opened. He asked the disorganizer what his next appointment was. The Dis-Organizer, greatly confused for having been present when Carrot died, stated that in all likelihood, 'Consulting Captain Carrot on the State of the War' would occur in two minutes. In Klachistan. At the half time in the Klatchian-Ankh-Morpork football game.
Somewhere out there, Carrot Ironfoundersson was alive, and doing what he always did. Somewhere out there, Nobby was dressed in civilian clothing and Vetinari was presumably doing what he always did.
A few days later, Vimes wondered if 'somewhere out there' Vetinari's plan had worked; if Ankh-Morpork had come out on top when Leshp sank back into the waves. Life certainly wasn't any better here. With so few officers that he actually knew, Vimes' one connection to the Watch he had known was the Dis-organizer, whose updates on the other Vimes' life Vimes clung to. Somewhere out there, a Sam Vimes he didn't quite think he knew anymore was inducting vampires into the Watch, and traveling to Überwald as a diplomat, and chasing a murders, and having meetings that he regularly felt confused about the result of. He regularly asked it for information on the well being of his officers, the ones who had survived only 'somewhere out there'.
It regularly answered that it wasn't its fault that it didn't know; it wasn't exactly able to look them in the face, was it?
Several times, it went missing. The first time, Vimes found it in the attic. The second time, it was in the garden. The third, the kitchens. The fourth time it went missing, he just asked Sybil where she'd put it, and then went and got it from the dragon pens.
A week later, Sybil bought him a new Dis-Organizer. Vimes threw it in the Ankh - occasionally poking with a stick until it finally began to sink, and continued on using his own brain to sort out his appointments.
The first time it malfunctioned, it told him that he had an appointment in the Shades with Sergeant Carcer about What To Do About John Keel; he glared at it until everything started to make sense. Or rather, until it stopped gabbling, and told him what was going on: it's particular event horizon was about thirty years out of date, and whatever he did, wouldn't return to the present. Vimes decided to follow its advice and keep it until the imp could sort itself out.
The second time, it told him that it was time to 'Teach John Keel a Lesson', and informed him that if he'd filled in the registration form when he'd first bought the damn thing, that this wouldn't have happened. It had gotten itself nicked, apparently.
When, on the third occasion, it told him that he had an appointment to teach Samuel Vimes about what being a watchman is all about, he threw it, too, in the Ankh. Whatever 'Insert Name Here' was going to teach him, he already knew it, and a hell of a lot more besides. It was a circle of failures. He'd given the city his best, his life, and arseholes like Lord Rust had taken what he hadn't given.
Besides, Ahmed had come to see him a few days ago. A D'reg was apparently the Klatchian version of a copper. Maybe the bright sun would do him some good. Maybe Sybil would like a change of scenery, at least for a little while; there must be hundreds of dragons being improperly treated in Klatch. Maybe if he went away for a while, he might feel a little better about coming back.