Wheeler-Bell Thirty-Six
Wheeler-Bell 36: The Inverted Double-Cross Topology
Well, we're back!
In which we learn how two Johannas came to be. Another Assassin adds new light and shadow to the mystery.A slight rewrite to fit in with the following chapter, in which Things Are Resolved.
Unseen University, Ankh-Morpork.
Ponder sighed with relief. Now all he – and HEX – had to do was to brief them. Make them aware of the hazards without alarming them. He decided to go and refresh on what was definitely known concerning Empirical Crescent.
Lord Vetinari almost laughed. He smiled slightly.
"Just when I started to suspect nothing new could surprise me." he remarked to Rufus Drumknott. His secretary stood back, attentively.
"The new visitors from the Roundworld, sir?" he asked. Vetinari nodded.
"Indeed, Drumknott."
Vetinari looked out, reflectively, towards Unseen University. The windows of the Oblong Office had unparalleled views of the city. He made a noise almost like a chuckle.
"The Inhumanities." he said, mysteriously.
Drumknott paused.
"As in that which is taught by the Guild of Assassins, sir?" he inquired, carefully. Vetinari smiled briefly.
"That is certainly one interpretation, yes." he agreed. "Of, or pertaining to, inhumation. Although I suspect the person who coined the phrase meant to be somewhat derogatory, concerning what he views as a lesser academic option compared to the hard sciences. Ah, well. Perhaps by now others will have reminded him that a pune, or a play on words, can work on more than one level."
"Ah." Drumknott said, thoughtfully. "I assume we are referring to the visiting Roundworld academics? Who are, indeed, being escorted by a graduate of the Guild of Assassins?"
Vetinari nodded.
"I'm sure Doctor Smith-Rhodes, who deservedly received recognition for her skills with a doctorate in applied science, will be explaining this aspect to Doctor Cooper. At some length."
Vetinari smiled again.
"It was only ever meant to be a honorary doctorate, to give her opinions some academic weight. And then she presented Unseen University with a scholarly thesis on the management of magical animals in a non-magical environment. Based on her work at the Zoo, I believe. And thus, she turned a honorary higher degree into an actual one. Admirable."
Vetinari reflected on this.
"I do sense that zoological science occupies a lesser status in Doctor Cooper's interesting perception of relative value. But I rather think everything else in his world-view ranks below theoretical physics."
Vetinari smiled again.
"And his visit to our world allows me to put a very appropriately skilled person in exactly the right place. I rather fancy the enigma of Empirical Crescent is on the point of resolution. And his talents will be gainfully occupied there for some time. Capital!"
Caltech, Pasadena:-
Johanna and Ruth discussed the latest developments over hot soothing tea. Sometimes nothing else would do.
"One of us is going to have to be on call." Ruth said, hoping it wouldn't be her. She was getting to like it here, in this strange place full of wonderful things. For instance, she wanted to explore a culture that had lots and lots of style, fashion and cosmetic ideas for people with black skins and African hair. Ruth had found it depressing that fashion in Ankh-Morpork was geared to white-skinned people and hadn't grasped there was a minority who were not white. She had felt excluded. (1). Being in a country that, whatever its shortcomings, accepted it had a sizeable black population and tailored products to their needs – Ruth wanted to find out more.
"I egree." Johanna said. She was still wondering exactly how it had worked out that there were two of her. Looking on the bright side, it meant her alternate self – her future self – was doing everything that had to be done on the Discworld side and her role there was being covered. So there was no pressing reason for her to go back there justnow. (2) This suited her. Besides, she'd get round to all those things on the Disc eventually. Or maybe even justnow. The logic of the situation appeared to mandate it.
"Ponder's organising rooms end living space et Empirical Crescent." she said. There'll be a room set eside for whoever nursemaids them end escorts. Sometimes it'll be me. Right now it's going to hev to be you. But we've got a day or two. While the University sets up. We can get on with the things we hev to do here. End – when we trevel, it's strictly via the Engine. No pessing through the portal. I do not want two of you, too."
Johanna paused, and added, meaningfully,
"One of you is enough."
"Well, there's parity…" Ruth said, thoughtfully.
"One of you." Johanna repeated. "End preferably one of me, too. This could get confusing." (3)
They went on to discussing their respective day ahead at Caltech. At least this was everyday normal.
Empirical Crescent, Ankh-Morpork.
Ponder Stibbons accepted that the furniture and sundries that were being delivered should be stored, temporarily, in a downstairs living room of Number Five. At least, for now. It was here, it was in a lockable indoor room, and safe from theft. Johanna had given him an Assassins' Guild badge to mount on the front door, to point out, in a discreetly stylish and respectful way, who was looking after security here and exactly who would pursue any thieves for reparation and recovery of anything stolen.
Ponder also doubted if anyone, licenced or unlicenced, would ever want to break into Empirical Crescent. The place had a reputation.
He also trusted Ksandra to lead a small team of very experienced University below-stairs staff in preparing several bedrooms for occupancy. Ksandra got these sort of support jobs. She'd tried to work for employers outside the university, taking a career break to work for the Guild of Assassins as a cleaner and maid. The University had thought this was a good idea at the time. (4)
Ksandra had just got bored. Being a maid to Lady Assassins, who were generous, thoughtful and courteous employers, just didn't have the same bite to it. Johanna Smith-Rhodes had realised this and spoken to Ponder, who'd asked Mrs Whitlow, and Ksandra had come back with glowing references from the Assassins. She'd also informally learnt a lot of interesting survival skills, which came in useful for the kind of cleaning assignments the University now used her for.
She had taken some very necessary precautions and was upstairs – presumably upstairs – somewhere, making rooms ready. Somewhere was a vitally necessary qualifying term when referring to the interior of Empirical Crescent.
Ponder sighed, and reflected that Sheldon Cooper at least would find this to be a challenge. Hopefully it would keep him busy doing something useful, and out of harm's way.
The Staffroom, The Assassins' Guild School, Ankh-Morpork
Johanna Smith-Rhodes gratefully moved to her usual Spot on a wide window-ledge overlooking the quad. She whole-heartedly agreed with Sheldon Cooper that everybody needed a Spot that they could get territorial about. This was hers. At some previous stage in the history of the Guild, some thoughtful person had even thought to upholster it, giving the window-ledge a stuffed leather seat. Next to an open window, it allowed her and one other person, sometimes Alice Band, sometimes Joan Sanderson-Reeves, a ventilated place away from the worst of the classic school staffroom odours of tobacco smoke, desperation and perspiration.
Johanna was getting used to double-takes and perplexed looks by now. For quite a few days she had been getting puzzled looks and comments like "You're moving around quickly, aren't you? I just saw you in…"
She sighed, and listened to a tale of woe related by Mr Barton, a man nicknamed "Fanny" by the pupils for some indefinable reason,(5) who taught Morporkian Language and Literature.
"I tell you, that bloody, bloody, girl." Fanny Barton said, shaking his head. "Her approach to poetry."
He picked up a teacup with a shaking hand.
"She's elevated the poetic word to a weapon. I tell you. Her poems."
Alice Band looked kindly at him.
"She's in Tump House. One of mine. Do you want me to have a little word with her?"
Fanny Barton shook his head.
"She's got… well, that ode to a dead swan decomposing on the shore of a lake." He shuddered. "A morbid fascination with death."
"Well, she's in the right school, then." Alice said, sympathetically.
"When she reads her appalling poems in class. It makes.. well, it's almost as if my lower intestine wants to leap up and throttle my throat from the inside. You know? Miss Millstone-Jennings has got to be the worst poetess anywhere on this blessed Disc. She could recite her poetry as an inhumation weapon. And those people who do that bloody school magazine are encouraging her. They're actually giving her a regular Poet's Corner!"
Alice frowned.
"Rupert Mericet. That's his sense of humour all over."
She turned to Johanna.
"I believe your sister's writing for the Cloak and Dagger these days? That thing about the Worm's Eye View she wrote. Quite clever. Reminding people that when they look down on a Lower School pupil, that Lower School pupil is also looking up and making her own judgements. And some of them aren't flattering."
Johanna smiled slightly. She'd read her sister's piece. It had been a nicely judged piece of veiled insubordination stopping very carefully short of being actionable, No teachers or senior pupils could be conclusively identified, for one thing.
"I'll have a little word with Mariella." she said.
Fanny Barton brightened up.
"Now she's a talented pupil. Mariella Smith-Rhodes. A pleasure to teach. Amazing that Morporkian isn't her first language…" he faltered and looked at Johanna. "Errr… no offence."
"None taken." Johanna reassured him. "It is not my first lenguege, either."
"But that dratted girl. Paula Nancy Millstone-Jennings. I'm sure the others encourage her." (6)
Johanna placed her younger sister, a Second Year pupil, on a growing list of Things to Do. And damn. If Mariella noticed there were, at the moment, twice the previously accepted and agreed number of older sisters about the place, things could get really complicated. (7)
She sighed.
At least, if her guess was right, and those things she was very carefully concealing from her several-days-younger alternative self (so as to avoid Paradox) were working out the way she thought, it would all come to a head soon. The Caltech gang would arrive in their allocated residence at Empirical Crescent the next day. Then The Event would happen.
She was still wondering how it would resolve itself. Ponder had said it was an inherently unstable situation, and everything should snap back to what passed for normality. The moment the universe realised there was a 100% over-stocking of Johanna Smith-Rhodes in this phase of reality. Apparently her two selves would converge, or the two dimensions would cease being schizophrenic, or something. It should be painless and untraumatic. Errr.
She winced. The only thing to do was to wait and see. But Ponder had been extremely clear on the need to Avoid Paradox. This was important to wizards. There was Observational Evidence, he said. Some odd thing had happened once in Sto Helit. Two different universes overlapping each other in the same place. It had all resolved itself. And the people involved were still alive. A wizard called Igneous Cutwell had written about it. Errr. (8)
Johanna sighed. About now her other self should be back in Caltech doing what needed to be done there. She ought to know. She remembered. And she'd travel over, with the Engine, and help Sheldon and the rest settle in at Empirical. She hoped it would be her. If Ruth crossed instead and she didn't, there really would be one enormous Paradox….
Johanna crossed her fingers. She was still smarting from her memory the interview with Sam Vimes the previous evening. Well, from her point in time, of a recent interview with Sam Vimes. Her alternate self would have had it the previous night. Twice the hideous embarrassment. At least Penny's open charm had won over Sybil. And cheesecake. Sam Vimes had conceded that in these unique circumstances, he could consent to rent to a consortium fronted by Assassins. Just don't even think of putting any creative additives in the things, or I'm nicking you both for adulterating foodstuffs. And Sybil had fallen in love with a new dessert. Her opinion carried weight with Sam. It could have been worse. Although Sam Vimes had darkly said he wouldn't forget about that bloody letter. How did she, Johanna Smith-Rhodes, propose to handle that one? Johanna had winced and decided to work something out with HEX that Sam Vimes could sign his name to.
In Caltech, things settled down for a day or two and everybody went about their lives there. This was of course necessary. Bernadette and Howard agreed that things could get complicated when it came to leading two different lives in two different worlds, at least for a while. It was agreed by mutual consent that the Einstein-Bosen Bridge should be used only for transit of inanimate things, to allow electrical power, wireless internet and necessary abstract qualities to cross to the Discworld. Given that time passed at equal speeds on both sides for people who crossed this way, it was agreed to use the Travelling Engine to take people over. And that this was the only way to prevent any embarrassing problems of continuity. It would be so easy to have a situation, for instance, where there could be multiple temporally out-of-step versions of people going back and forth.
Johanna winced. She was still hazy as to how there actually became two of her. Or would become two of her. She sensed the trigger event hadn't happened yet, at least in her personal time-frame. She also sensed the version of herself on the Discworld, still being her but several days older, knew or had worked it out, but couldn't say so outright because of Paradox. Not being a research wizard or theoretical physicist, trying to work it out made her head ache. She decided to do the only thing available, which was to ride it out and let it happen. She had gleaned from Ponder that this was best. She also reflected that all the temporaly separated versions of himself that had appeared at 2311 North Los Robles to get around the Housemates' Agreement had snapped back to their own correct places in Time when the pressing need was over. And Ponder, or a theoretical entity he referred to as Ponder Prime, was still here, unaffected. She hoped this was pretty much the same for her.
Ponder, on the Discworld, had also left a message via HEX to say letting things cool down for a day or two was necessary, if only to get everything into step with itself again and for University staff to get Empirical Crescent into order to receive residents. It also gave him time to work with HEX and Ridcully on deciphering Rothman's research notes. HEX was busy copying these into memory files to recall at will. Ponder would also supervise creating a memory stick version with original and translation that could be read via an Earth computer terminal. He stressed this had to be top secret, as well as any translation of the Voynich Manuscript that emerged. Leonard said this would not be a problem. If they went public on this one, that would be the end of a lot of promising academic careers.
Leonard and Penny had also returned to Earth to stay in touch with their lives here, and to be seen around Caltech and the Cheesecake Factory going about their everyday lives, as was necessary. HEX had said this was important, so that when all eight Roundworlders travelled over together – strictly via the Engine – everyone was starting out from the same objectively measured datum point in Time, and could all be returned to Earth, when necessary, apparent seconds after they had left.
Leonard was readjusting to being in a place where magic was not an option. He had tried to generate a fireball when he came back to the apartment, but nothing had happened. He sighed, accepted this was for the best here, and got on with things. Penny had been relieved.
Amy Farrah-Fowler had returned Cinnamon to Raj, and reflected that everything was now clear for her to make her first visit. She was excited and quizzed Bernadette, Lucy and Penny as to their experience.
"Apparently they got a pharmaceutical industry." Bernadette said. "Although they call it apothecary. You know, the old-fashioned name. A lot of it is plant-derived or animal extracts. Which is cool. That's where our pharmaceutics began. And there's a lot of cool stuff out there in plants and stuff that we don't know squat about. Hey, I could bring back new things! Ponder says there are people I should meet. People at his University. And a colleague of Johanna's does a lot of this sort of thing."
"Yeah." Howard said. "Colleague of Johanna's. Another Assassin. I can just see how that lady does biochemistry."
Bernadette scowled slightly.
"Johanna's OK." she said. "And she tells me her friend is pretty well-adjusted. Working mother. Combines a career with raising sons. Ran a business. University doctorate. Any woman who does that has got to be organised. And sensible. Got her head screwed on right."
Unseen University, Ankh-Morpork.
In the currently vacant apartment at the University, a group of excited people were clustered around a Roundworld computer terminal. Ponder Stibbons had given a basic teach-in concerning using Microsoft Office and Internet to consultant academics who had been asked for their opinion. HEX was on call for opinions and ideas.
Johanna Smith-Rhodes stood in the background, reflecting that there was now at most a day before The Event. She hoped her alternate self would realise and do what the situation appeared to dictate. Or Paradox would happen. If Paradox happened, Ponder would shout at her. She liked to avoid this. She wondered what would happen next. This was uncharted territory.
"Oh, my…" the woman at the computer said, excitedly. "That's the Accelerating Bamboo of Agatea."(9)
"The only plant capable of growing from a seed to twelve feet high in twenty seconds." said the Wizard standing next to her. "Outside the unique monoculture of Mono Island, of course."
"Thought to be escaped seeds from Mono Island that were wind-carried to Agatea." the woman agreed. She pushed her glasses up her nose. "And this was found on Roundworld?"
"Over there, it's a mystery and an anomaly." Ponder Stibbons said. "Currently the manuscript is a possession of a prestigious University there."
The woman scrolled through a few pages. There were over a hundred. She snorted in disapproving disdain.
"Evidently stolen from a library here." she said. "People just don't respect library books. There are whole pages torn out, by the look."
"Ook!" said one of the others, in whole-hearted agreement. The woman patted a long hairy arm with a sort of maternal tenderness. The arm was quivering with anger.
"I know. It's terrible, isn't it?" she said. "And I think I know which library it came from. I'm going to have to check records, I think. And if I'm right, this causes a problem."
"Doctor Bellamy, you suspect this was stolen from the Assassins' Guild?" Ponder Stibbons asked, politely.
Davinia Bellamy smiled slightly.
"Well, somebody's torn the page out with the library stamp and the return this book by stated date label. But it's one of ours. No doubt about it. I'm not fluent in the script, but it seems to read like a manual for identifying plants of interest to the Assassin and how they can be used to synthesise alchemical compounds and preparations. We routinely put these things into codes and obscure languages so if they go missing, they're only of limited use, unless somebody's been educated in reading the language. My guess is that this was written several hundred years ago, according to the understanding and knowledge available then. All the pages about astrology and which phases of the moon and stars are best to pick the plant and begin refining it, for instance. I think the Guild would consider this a museum piece and of limited practical use today. And this ended up on Roundworld?"
She considered the Voynich Manuscript again.(10)
"I'll have to refer this to the Dark Council. But the Guild does have a clear interest here, Arch-chancellor."
Ridcully sighed.
"Do what you have to, m'dear." he said. "Can't help feeling that if we steal it back from Yale University, somebody over there is going to notice, though."
"It appears to come from a region of Roundworld called Italy, six centuries before the date we're currently concerned with." Ponder Stibbons said. "We know the region was a patchwork of conflicting city-states locked in political intrigue. The Italians refined political infighting to a remarkably advanced degree and among other things, they had recognisable Assassins. What if somehow Assassins there made contact with the Guild here and traded secrets?"
"Contact was clandestine for necessary reasons. The link broke, the secret was lost, this book remained over there, and since it relates to plants un-known on Roundworld, the manuscript became an enigma and a curiosity." Davinia mused. "I'll ask. See what Guild history knows."
She looked down at the page.
"Why do people feel compelled to scribble in library books… I know. Terrible, isn't it? Ook, indeed. Ook. There appears to be a name here.
Jacobj à Tepenece. I wonder if we had an Assassin of that name? And this scribble. Looks Überwaldean. Der muszdel. Oh. And a line or two in what looks like Latatian. Interesting!"
Davinia read on, conferring with the Librarian, and with Professor Pennnysmart, the University's resident botanist. And an enigma on Earth for several centuries was being, without overmuch fuss, resolved. Leaving, as these things do, even bigger enigmas. Like How Did It Get There In The First Place, and What The Hell Do We Do About It?
Empirical Crescent, Ankh-Morpork:
Johanna Smith-Rhodes was one of the first people to cross from Roundworld. She rode the Engine with Lucy, reassuring her about the Discworld, and ensuring that before crossing she had taken a dose of the beta-blockers, against any attack of morphic incontinence. You couldn't be too careful.
++I regret I am unable to materialise inside the buildings of the Crescent++ HEX said. ++Given local conditions, this is not advisable.++ I will disembark you in the street outside.++Stand by.++
"Eccepted, HEX." Johanna said. She had even got to bring the dogs back with her. Kaffee and Crème stoically put up with travel, loving to be where their mistress was.
And now they were looking on what from the outside was an elegant, upscale, terrace of houses appropriate to upscale Ankh. Ponder joined them, and without too much fuss or drama, the others arrived in groups of two, with the hand-luggage they'd been advised to carry.
"Hey, wow!" Penny said. "This is kinda like that place in England. Bath. That big curvin' line of seriously stately houses."
"Shame about the gardens, though." Bernadette said. "Hey, maybe we could get the guys to tidy up?"
It was true: the gardens were neglected and overgrown. But the houses…. A smallish crescent of three-or-four storey houses. Beautifully designed, stylishly built, wonderfully proportioned and very reminiscent, to Roundworld eyes, of that place in England with the cool Georgian architecture. A casual observer who knew not nearly enough might speculate that even B.S. Johnson was bound to get it right once, if only by accident.
And then you went inside.
Amy Farrah-Fowler looked around her with interest. Then her nose crinkled.
"Hey. What's that smell?"
"You get used to it." several people said, more or less together.
Ponder Stibbons met them at the door to Number Five. It had been agreed that this should be the operating base.
"Welcome to Ankh-Morpork." he said, passing a large bunch of keys to Howard. "You have the run of the entire street, by the way. Twelve terraced houses, all owned by the university, and currently completely empty. Err. We've set up living space for everybody. I'm going to have to talk you through this…"
The hallway seemed normal enough. But several coloured strings led to various rooms and up the stairs. They had labels on like "Bathroom", "Bedroom One (single)" and "Master Bedroom (for the married couple ONLY!).(11)
"Do not, yet, go into areas which have not been scouted out." Ponder said. "You'll see why. Best you see for yourselves."
He and Johanna stood back and allowed everyone to work it out for themselves. They grinned uncertainly at each other. Then people started filtering back again.
"Er. Ponder." Howard said, uncertainly. "There's something odd goin' on here."
"Yes. That's what we want you all to investigate." Ponder Stibbons admitted.
Sheldon Cooper, uncharacteristically quiet till then, and reluctant to go to a place with primitive bathroom facilities. bounded down the stairs, whooping with joy.
"Ponder1 Ponder! Ponder!" he shouted, bouncing with joy. "I know what this is! I believe we're living in a tesseract! Thank you! Thank you so much! Oh, this is wonderful!"
Ponder Stibbons smiled.
"Now we're getting somewhere." he said.
Johanna suspected that Sheldon would now find himself capable of living with primitive bathrooms. He had a scientific mystery to investigate.
Accepting that they were living in a very crooked house indeed, the Caltech gang settled in quickly. Their first priority was to send out for takeaway food. Johanna helped facilitate this.
After a lunch, Howard started to apply an engineer's methodical mind to working out the intricacies of a building where the geographical location of the interior did not correspond at all to, say, the views from the windows. This, he thought, was not typical behaviour for a building. And that was only the first complication. He proposed working methodically from Number One to Number Twelve, logging and mapping where all the staircases were, tracking the pathways using the Ariadne Principle of labelled string, and using the charged laptop computers they'd brought to create some sort of topographical map.
Having identified pathways to the rooms from their apparent starting points, and then photographing from the outside to see where a bedroom that was apparently in Number One was from the street outside. Somebody could stand in the window and wave, somebody outside could identify the window they were at. You know, build a picture. Get it mapped. Create a computer model. Sheldon could work on the physics stuff. He'd do the practical. Ask HEX to run people back to Caltech to recharge the laptops.
But looking out from inside. Some of the views from the windows…
Johanna smiled. With luck this would occupy them for some weeks. Keep them out of trouble and who knows, accomplish something useful: a systematic map of the inside of Empirical Crescent. It had never been attempted before.
It also intrigued her. She assisted in some of the explorations, her dogs bounding beside her. She was intrigued that the view from one top-floor room apparently appeared to be of Ankh-Morpork from ground level. She remarked on this to Sheldon.
"Perhaps we ought to try a conclusive experiment." he said, and moved to open the window. He paused, looking down.
"Doctor Smith-Rhodes?" he said, uncertainly. "You said this place has been unnoccupied for some time. But there are footprints in the dust. And the dust on the windowsill has been disturbed. Somebody has been in this room quite recently."
Johanna looked down. Sheldon was right; a trail of footprints and scuffs in the dust suggested somebody had moved in this room, in the opposite direction, from the window to the door. Kaffee and Creme bounded excitedly, scuffing the dust further, as if they'd picked up an interesting scent. She reflected.
"It may have been the cleaners the University despetched here." she suggested. But she frowned. Ksandra and her people had only had limited access. And Ksandra would have swept and dusted thoroughly.
"The footprints suggest boots." She looked down at a very clear bootprint. It looked familiar, like something she saw all the time, or a thing she saw so often her mind didn't really notice it any more. She smiled slightly.
"It suggests the sort of boot designed for Essessins." she said. "We routinely despetch our people on training missions around the City. I wonder which of my colleagues mey hev sent et least one of their students here."
Johanna inwardly speculated on who might have the sort of imaginatively nasty mind to make this their version of the Vimes Run for an over-confident student. And what that student had done to annoy their instructor to merit it.
"But it is nothing to concern ourselves with. Now this place is occupied egain, end the Guild is eware, there will be no others. Epart from myself and those known to you, perheps."
Sheldon accepted this, and moved to the window. The sash window creaked open with effort, although she noted it had been forced open recently. Another mystery. Johanna provided some slipall. The smell of what Sheldon recognised as WD-40 filled the air. It mingled with the background smell of Ankh-Morpork.
Sheldon said, thoughtfully, "We should do this…" and he climbed out of the window, Johanna remembered that an excited Sheldon had no sense of self-preservation. She sighed, and made to intervene. Then Kaffee barked excitedly and flowed Sheldon out. His sister followed.
"Oh, kak." Johanna said, remembering that Ponder had said to exercise caution when opening windows. Just in case. Just in case of what had not been specified.
She decided to retrieve her dogs. And Sheldon. Then leapt out herself, landing lightly in the undergrowth.
"It all seems perfectly normal." Sheldon said. "I'm going back in now." He made to climb back inside.
"I'll get the dogs." Johanna said, and went in pursuit. They'd gone chasing interesting smells in the gardens.
"Anybody seen Johanna?" Bernadette asked. "She seems to have disappeared."
"I last saw her seeking to retrieve her companion animals." Sheldon said. "After we hopped through a window. To confirm that what we actually saw outside was there in reality. No doubt she'll return."
Johanna caught up with Kaffee and Crème, then considered. The dogs needed a walk, after all. And it was a pleasant afternoon. She attached leads and decided everybody else was settling in and gainfully occupied. It didn't need her just yet. She went dog-walking down towards Prousts. It looked like a normal Ankh-Morpork day.
She decided to buy some dog treats and perhaps a copy of the Times.
A Klatchistani general stores provided what was needed. She frowned down at the front page of the paper. That headline looked familiar, somehow…
And then she saw the date.
Quite a few days prior to the one she thought was applicable. She had been here before. Johanna Smith-Rhodes realised, with a hideous sense of inevitability. Empirical Crescent wasn't just divergent in terms of space. It could land you in a different time, too. Following Sheldon and her dogs through that dratted damn window had deposited her at least a week into her own past. And there was now, she realised, doing a bit of intense reckoning, only one place she could possibly go. So as to avert paradox. Which Ponder was steadfastly against.
She sighed. No need to rush. She'd get there at the correct time. The situation mandated it. She considered recent events in the City in general terms. Bits of news that had registered. She dredged up a memory of a conversation with Emmanuelle les Deux-Epées concerning events of interest to Emmanuelle.
Johanna smiled with slight grim humour. Better get something out of this damn silly situation…
She detoured past a bookmakers' shop on her walk back to the Guild. She paced a hundred dollar bet on a horse whose name had cropped up in conversation with Emmanuelle. In the context of "thirty-three to one. Ma foi, I wish I knew these things in advance so as to lay a large bet!"
Quite a few thousand dollars would be handy as nuisance money, she decided. It must be a fringe benefit of time travel. She resolved not to mention this to Ponder. He'd only shout at her.
And then she returned to the Assassins' Guild, locked her dogs in the kitchen in her rooms so as not to alarm them, and passed the time marking student work.
Maybe twenty minutes later, the dopplering hum and multicolour light show announcing the Travelling Engine happened. She looked up and smiled slightly. The Doppler stopped shifting, the light show strobed down, and the humming sound faded out.
"Nnnghhh…." said Penny.
Johanna looked at herself with appraising interest. Still young-looking. No wrinkles yet. Spoke in a firm authoritative voice. She was relieved about that. Moved with a sort of grace. Still looking good, for thirty.
"Sweet freakin' Jesus!" Penny exclaimed.
"I knew you'd turn up around now." she said, in Vondalaans. "The situation mandates it."
After that it all took on an air of familiarity.
(1) Things are changing now, but a sort of built-in element to British racism was the assumption that black women either didn't need or didn't use or didn't want cosmetics or similar products geared to their needs – the cosmetics trade, consequent advertising and marketing et c, even models used in adverts, treated a black minority as invisible or non-existent. Even dolls aimed at little girls were almost exclusively of little white girls. Many black women in Britain have commented on how this was their very first exposure to the casual everyday racism of British society. (wondering why there weren't any little black dollies for Christmas and birthdays). I'm not sure if this also applied in the USA, but I'm betting it did.
(2) Not a typo – "justnow" is a wonderfully elastic South Africanism that is as temporally variable as anything quantum physics has to offer. If a South African assures you they'll get onto something justnow, it can mean "in five minutes", "tomorrow", "next week" or sometimes "Never, or in an alternative phase of the multiverse". Think of Spanish mañana, Italian domani, et c. Johanna is using the idiom appropriately.
(3) There was an elephant in the room here, which was trumpeting very loudly and displaying signs of must. Both Johanna and Ruth had arrived at the appalling conclusion that if there was even the remotest possibility of accidentally generating multiple temporally-sundered versions of, for instance, Sheldon Cooper, this should be avoided. One of Sheldon was enough for anywhere.
(4) to my story Exit Interview.
(5) "Fanny" Barton is an initially Biggles-like RAF pilot in Derek Robinson's novel of air fighting in WW2, A Piece of Cake.. I just like the name and it's recycled here. Why not?
(6) Following my own advice concerning riding out the Block by getting something down on paper. And I have been re-reading Douglas Adams' radio scripts for H2G2. Why not insert a homage to seriously bad poetry.
(7) And there has to be a Mariella cameo somewhere. Damn, I'm getting quite fond of her, having written a massive one about Things She Did On Her Gap Year. This also fixes the series continuity, more or less: a year or two before Johanna marries Ponder (with Bekki arriving a year or so after that, with another few years before Mariella graduates…) Mariella would be about eleven- twelve here, and learning what she can get away with at the Guild School.
(8) to Mort by Terry Pratchett.
(9) A plant of specialised interest to the right sort of Assassin. The thinking goes that a seed or two, strategically planted in, say, the client's comfy armchair, would lie dormant until the right conditions for germination presented themselves. Let's say if the warmth of a human body immediately above were to allow the Accelerating Bamboo to wake up and, well, grow. Suddenly and catastrophically for the client. Bamboo has a thick woody stem and a very pointy coleoptile. Davinia Bellamy had indeed advanced this as a theoretical inhumation strategy for the right sort of client. The Guild had asked her to hold this one as while it was considered elegant, in a twisted sort of way, it needed a certain sort of Extreme Prejudice to apply in practice. The right contract hadn't come along yet.
(10) The Voynich Manuscript exists, of course, and everything factual about it related here can be confirmed by accessing the Wikipedia article. It remains a weird enigma.
(11) Mrs Whitlow had been very forthright about Decency.
Notes Dump:
That place for non-linear discontinuities, things and concepts which will prove the essential truth of the Copenhagen Interpretation and which, in the manner of waves and particles projected through a slit, might impinge on either the past or the present of the tale or multiple alternate-universe versions thereof. Odd stray thoughts with no immediate relevance to the tale at hand, but which need to go down somewhere lest I forget.
Tvtropes again: the character meme known in anime and manga as "The Cute Witch". Quote: Known in Japanese as majokko (魔女っ子), this is the original Magical Girl archetype.
Use this as an Agatean witch name? Majokko-san…..
Interesting quote from Swedish crime author Håkan Nesser:- "…women do not realise how much more cold-blooded they are than men, until after they have passed the menopause". (From "The Living and the Dead in Winsford") This could sum up my character of Joan Sanderson-Reeves, who didn't start inhuming men until her late forties. Got to work this into a story somewhere…. Observational gold.
Crossword-generated character names:
Baseball Brahms
Medusa Travesty