Sam Vimes looked at the vast amounts of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk. He looked at the pen in his hand. He looked at the paperwork. He looked back at the pen. And then to the paperwork, again. After a few moments, he sighed and tossed the pen over his shoulder. He'd get to it, later.

There came a knock at the door before it creaked open, and Sergeant Colon reluctantly stepped inside. He was holding a piece of paper that had been nervousl crumpled due to his nervous fidgeting with it a few moments earlier, which was continued now as he stood before the commander.

"Er, sir?" he said.

"Yes, Fred?" replied Commander Vimes, "What is it?"

"Er, Constable Visit has just come back with an urgent report"

"Well, get on with it, man," Vimes pushed on.

"Um, right," said Colon, "Well, there has been a report of something that's been speeding through the city"

"Another renegade coach?" asked Vimes. Colon's fidgetinmg seemed to become more insistant.

"Um, yes, sir," said Colon, "Only we think it's a cart, sir, but it's kind of like..er, I think you'd better come and see it for yourself, sir. It was last seen speeding towards that new mansion down in Filligree Street, sir." And, almost as if on cue, there was a crash from down the street that shook the watch house.

By the time the two of them got there, a crowd had already formed around the scene Anything that may result in someone being hanged passed for entertainment by Anhk-Morpork standards. Vimes pushed his way to the front of the crowd, where he got a good look at the thing for the first time. He could see what Sergeant Colon had been talking about. It did indeed vaguely resemble a cart. But, there were no horses pulling it, there was smoke coming out from somewhere on the bottom, the tires seemed to be lined with a very thick rubber, and the whole thing seemed to look like a big metal box on wheels. It seemed almost unbelieveable that such a contraption could be stopped by a, now half-bent lampost in front of the new mansion.

Inside came a sound of someone coughing, most likely from the cloud of smoke that was now surrounding the metal cart. After a few moments, one of the doors opened, and a young woman stepped out and looked around at the gathered crowd. Before she could say anything, Vimes pushed his way forward and stood before her.

"Just who the hell are you, and what are you doing?" he said, reasonably louder than was needed. The girl simply looked up at him wide-eyed for a minute or two before a benevolent smile spread across her face.

"Oh, I'm here for the new show!" she said considerably more cheerfully than would be expected of someone whose future was quite likely was going to be spent in a cold, dark, cell. Vimes stood in utter shock before he got a hold on himself.

"What the hell are you talkingk about?" he yelled, immediately silencing any sniggering that was going on in the crowd. This only seemed to broaden the girl's smile, if that was possible. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was interupted by the sound of another set of tires skirting around the corner and coming to an abrupt stop just behind the first metal cart. This one was a great deal bigger, and seemed to contain a lot more people.

"Oh, good, the crew's bus is here," said the girl as the thing's doors opened, and many people, each carrying as much equipment as possible, began filing out, and into the mansion. Vimes watched as she began directing them. He'd had enough of this.

"What the hell is going on!?" he shouted. The girl turned and looked at him as if she'd just noticed him standing there.

"Oh, sorry, commander," she said, once again, smiling, "I'm here to manage the new reality show."

"What 'reality show'?" Some people with what looked like modified moving picture iconographs walked past, and into the mansion.

"Oh, it's, um..What was it, now?" She turned and pointed to a random iconograph holder. "Rob, what are we calling this thing, again?" The one adressed as Rob looked up from the strange iconograph at her call.

"I believe it was 'Ankh-Morpork Survivor,' Miss," he said. The girl turned back to Vimes.

"Ah, right," she said, "It's Ankh-Morpork Survivor, Mr. Vimes" She caught his blank stare, and sighed.

"It's sort of like a long-term game, sir," she went on, "We take ten volunteers to live in the mansion for five months, and they live their lives as they normally do, only they are not to leave the house, we supply them with everything they need for those five months, and whenever we see fit, they are given a task that they must complete, or they recieve a punishment"

"And the cameras?" said Vimes, suspiciously.

"Oh, those?" said the girl, "Well, we're putting them in hiding spots all around the house, as well as reopening the Moving Pictures hall, so paying viewers can come and watch everyone as they live in the house. After a certain amount of time, they vote on who they want evicted from the house"

"You put cameras in every bloody room?!" said Colon, who had somehow materialised by Vimes' side. The girl laughed.

"We keep them out of the bathroom, if it makes you feel any better," she said.

"People paying to watch people sit around and live?" said Vimes. "Sounds like a waste of money, if you ask me"

"We'll see, commander," she said, walking up to the mansion, "This is Ankh-Morpork, after all" She came to the front door and opened it. Stepping inside, she turned back to the crowd at the sound of Vimes' voice.

"I doubt if you'll get any volunteers," he said.

"I'm sure there are plenty of people in this city who will be willing to spend five months in this place," she said, smiling, "for a prize of $10,000" Her smile grew at the sudden uproar form the crowd. "Sign ups will be held in the Moving Pictures hall!" she called out, before closing the door. Vimes and Colon were nearly trampeled by the crowd as they all turned and started in the direction of the hall.

"Fred?" said Vimes, steadying himself.

"Yes, sir?" said Colon from somewhere on the ground.

"It's going to be a long five months"

"Yes, sir"

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I keep looking for Discworld reality shows, but whenever I do, the author never seems to want to finish them, so I'm making one of my own