The Nature Trail – afterthoughts
I was asked to leave this story "open" and add a few more bits. Why not... A few words which seem to fit here!
Lord Vetinari looked up from the file on his desk. It was a particularly absorbing speculative report, jointly commissioned by the Guild of Artificers and the Postmaster General, concerning how to overcome certain technical and geographical difficulties inherent in extending the Clacks network into the continent of Klatch, and ultimately bringing the faraway Union of Rimwards Howondaland closer to the main continent.
Proposition One involved going the long way round by land, around the rim of the Circle Sea, taking in smaller nations such as Ephebe, Betrek, Istanzia, Omnia, Ushistan, Tsort, and Djelibeybi , and then into Klatch proper and on through the heart of the continent. Vetinari noted: I fully accept that while the longest land route, this entails working in no new and untested technologies and once established, would vastly speed communications with these States.
Politically, however, I note that very many sovereign states are involved here. Getting them all to agree would be like herding cats, and it would only take one of them, such as the Theocracy of Ushistan, to refuse, thus throwing the project into chaos and disorder. And Ushistan, I believe, considers the Clacks "blasphemous" and an affront to its Gods.
Proposition Two was more technologically advanced. It proposed a relay of permanently anchored "clacks ships" in line of sight across the Circle Sea, for which old hulls could be utilised and permanently moored. In place of masts, they would carry clacks towers, thus taking up the relay from coast-to-coast, making landfall again in Hersheba, and then Rimwards across the continent. A subsidiary of the Grand Trunk could be enabled with investment money from the URH, as that country has expressed intent in establishing an internal Clacks network of its own.
While advantageous in that it crosses fewer international borders and has the assured political and financial support of the URH, this is also fearsomely expensive. A storm in the Circle Sea could cut communications instantly. Not to mention the risk of collisions with more mobile shipping. As part of recent discussions with Ambassador van der Graaf, I have consented in principle to enabling a joint Ankh-Morporkian/URH company, provisionally called the Grand Trunk of Howondaland, which will export our technology to a friend and ally, and at the very least establish internal clacks lines in the URH. The difficulty is linking that rather old-time socially conservative nation with the rest of the world, and ideally into the current century. Crossing the continent would involve establishing clacks towers first in baking deserts, overcoming technological problems posed by sand fouling the mechanisms, and perhaps more pressingly, of raiding D'Reg tribesmen.
When the problems posed by the desert are resolved, the Clacks line then moves into the Central Howondalandian Plain, which by international treaty is the reserved tribal land of the Red Indian races. Their joint diplomatic mission to Ankh-Morpork will not be happy about the idea of white men making an incursion on their lands. I understand that in the past, they have made this point with great force, often involving the application of tomahawks for emphasis. They are a people who believe in burying the hatchet after an argument, often because it is lodged so firmly in a perceived enemy's skull that it cannot be removed and has to go to the grave with him. I have reservations about this stage of the plan. And frankly, so do the Indians.
If the Central Plain were to be conquered by the Clacks, the next obstacle is the woodland and jungle. The deep jungle rots wood, rusts metal, corrodes anything manmade. The tallest trees are over a hundred feet. And then there are the human and animal inhabitants. How do you propose to establish clacks towers here?
After that, you are in the URH and among friends. Well done, in that event.
Proposition Three involved capitalising on Klatchian interest in the Clacks and routing the line through the Klatchian Empire. It was noted that a pre-existing network of desert forts garrisoned by the Klatchian Foreign Legion would allow safe bases for the Clacks towers to be established, as well as a means of deterring the D'Regs from attacking the line.
Definitely not, at least for the moment. It has practical advantage, yes, but allows the Klatchians control and access to all trunk line calls to all parts of the continent, which they can freely intercept or sever at a whim. That nation is just too strategically placed. Besides, the Clacks depends on prompt forwarding of complex messages which requires enhanced memory and recall skills on the part of its operatives. I am concerned as to how long these would survive prolonged contact with the KFL, sterling military organisation though I am sure it is.
Proposition Four suggested getting round the problems posed by a cross-continent Clacks line by routing it around the coast. Again it would be long, but secure, and it would always be close to the sea if maritime support and intervention was called for. This would make tower crew support and replenishment easier, as a small fleet of support ships could be incorporated into the plan and costings. It would also miss the worst and deepest jungle, and non-crucial dependent spur lines could in the fullness be budded off the main Continental Trunk, access to which we would control. Klatch would then get its clacks line, but a strictly local exchange ultimately controlled by the Company.
I have significant cost worries, but this seems to be the best of the four propositions. Please develop this idea and circulate your paper to the Ambassadors of Hersheba and the URH for their input. But take care to omit, for the moment, my comments! No great rush. V.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come, Drumknott!"
Vetinari's personal secretary entered, bringing a steaming mug of tea, which he placed on the desk. Vetinari permitted the informality of the "To The world's Greatest Boss!" logo: it was another of those little incongruities he very carefully cultivated, which, once spotted, tended to re-route the train of thought of any visitor to the office.
"Thank you, Drumknott. The delegation from Unseen University?"
"Is ready to see you, sir."
"Allow me five minutes for reflection, and then show them in. "
He handed Drumknott the folder on The Grand Trunk of Howondaland.
"Please action my recommendations, Drumknott."
"Right away, sir."
Vetinari spent a few minutes sipping his tea, and pondering other pressing issues. Then he called in the Wizards.
"Ah, Mr Chapman. Mr Wainwright. And Professor Stibbons. Mage Intelligence Five, I believe".
"No, sir" Ponder corrected him. "Mage Intelligence Five was set up to intercept domestic incidences of illegal use of magic. The wizards here are from Mage Intelligence Six. Who seek to monitor magic-use by foreign nationals, and particularly by their diplomatic establishments, in this city."
"And who are here to brief me. Carry on, gentlemen."
The wizard Pincher Chapman, who against all the odds for his profession was spare and lean and fleshless, leant forward and smiled a thin self-satisfied smile. Vetinari distrusted thin wizards: anyone diverted away from the dining regime at the University by more interesting things than food and drink was almost certainly up to something. At least in this instance, I'm reasonably sure it has been harnessed in the service of the City.
"It's been quite a busy few days, my Lord." the spare Wizard remarked, with a disconcertingly manic light in his eyes.
"The known psychic channels have been very active, but I pride myself in that our Department has managed to successfully intercept virtually every message sent out from this City. While there is of course no place for any sort of complacency, our monitoring systems are still capable of passively monitoring all messages despatched by magic-users employed by the Zlobenian, Borogravian, Redurantian, and at least six other Embassies. In these cases, messages are sent out en clair, and the diplomats involved appear not to have recognised that our skilled farseers and psychic mediums can intercept their traffic at will. File One, my lord, contains the latest intercepts."
Vetinari accepted it with a nod.
"Proceed".
"Nations such as Klatch routinely encode and protect their transmissions at a higher level, and there have been, er, incidents with their counter-intelligence staff, which my colleague Mr Wheelwright will in time brief you on. Similarly, the Kwa'Zululand Embassy is aware we are monitoring them on the known psychic planes, and they have recently imported a Royal House Witchfinder of the first degree to oversee their psychic security services."
He looked away, eyes suddenly downcast. His colleague Mr Wheelwright, a Wizard of normal girth and gait, took up the story.
"We sent out a remote viewer to try to get inside their Embassy, on the Astral Plane, and report back on any changes. So far he has not returned. We know he is not dead, as his body is alive and being tended to. This indicates they are now employing Magic Users of greater ability than previously, who are capable of trapping and imprisoning wandering Astral Bodies. Of course, we can do this ourselves, as we currently hold the spiritual essence of a Zulu Leopard Society officer, who our defences found prowling in the vicinity of the High Energy Magic Building, and detained after a short struggle. My Lord, perhaps you could negotiate a hostage exchange at some point? The soul can only exist for so long when temporarily separated from the body." (1)
"Noted." said Vetinari. "I trust you know how to check for whatever might be sent back? And you debrief a returned agent afterwards, in case they have been turned and have come to see the other side's point of view?"
"After our experience the last time, when we discovered it was not, in fact, the unfortunate Wizard William Walter Waddell- Swift, but in fact the Überwaldean agent Oberst Erich von Hanfkopf, who returned to his body, we are sure to check."
"It was a potentially good operation, though." Pincher mused. "It did rather arouse our suspicions when our man identified himself as der Vizard, Villiam Valter Vaddell-Svift. If it wasn't for that…"
"These are the transcripts in File Two, my lord. Amassed through the usual means, of remote viewing, automatic writing, ghostwalking, and astral projection. I will also draw your attention to the clever work put in by Doctor Hix, of the Department of Postmortem Communications, following the unfortunate recent death of a Quirmian diplomat who our services needed to speak to. Now most of the transcripts in this file are encoded in ways we have been unable to decipher, or are only partial, or where the other side's counter-intelligence mages were good enough to realise they were being eavesdropped and either halted the transmission, or moved it to a more secure line."
"Or employed more active counter-measures of their own" added Wainwright. "Which is where I come in. Monitoring and defending locations around the City which are sealed to foreign intelligence services, and ensuring they cannot be intruded upon psychically. Providing defence to our own operators who are out on intelligence missions. It's a great game, My Lord! And by the way, Sir, I would not completely trust Hix. As resident Evil Wizard, his job description practically obliges him to be a double agent for every foreign secret service in town!""
Vetinari nodded, reflecting that on the Astral Plane, a wizard could take whatever shape and form he liked, and that the thirty-stone Wainwright's preferred shape was that of a lean, muscular, fourteen-stone Secret Service agent who affected his cocktails to be shaken not stirred, and who could make dry Assassin-like witticisms whilst inhuming or otherwise incommoding his foes. He sighed. He had his Dark Clerks and the Assassins' Guild, for those little activities, on the fringes of diplomacy, that happened in the normal waking world. But as more and more Embassies were using magic to bypass the usual diplomatic channels, he needed these wizards.
"Tell me, are there any Embassies we cannot penetrate or interdict with magic?" Vetinari inquired. The two Wizards looked suddenly shifty.
"Well… the Fourecksian High Commission is difficult, my Lord. The University at Bugarup has provided a couple of first-class home-trained wizards on the staff. The High Commission also employs several aboriginal bonethrowers, the native magic users of the Continent. The result of their marriage of high-mage and native has effectively ensured the Embassy is shut down to intrusion. And the voodoo-users at the Genuan Embassy are a hard fight, although one where we have every expectation of eventual success."
"Which means you're losing." Vetinari observed. The wizards winced.
"The Low King of the Dwarfs has a diplomatic mission here. Dwarfs are not magic-users, so in theory their Embassy should be wide-open. Most of it is, but certain sensitive rooms on the inside are lined with octiron panels, which negates our attempts to penetrate. Experiments are proceeding. Embassies such as Lancre are impossible as they use no magic. Their informal set-up ensures the Diplomatic Bag proceeds home with, well, whichever human or troll or dwarf is passing that way and can be trusted to drop it off at the castle for King Verence. Sometimes, it goes airmail with a witch, which in theory offers us an avenue of approach, but Lancre witches are an even harder fight than Genuan voodoo users. Not a battle we'd pick, to be honest, unless forced."
Vetinari nodded, understanding.
"The city thanks you for your untiring labours, gentlemen." He said, by way of dismissal. "Professor Stibbons, please remain."
The two older Wizards left. As the door closed behind them, Ponder made to offer a file of his own. Vetinari accepted it with thanks.
"I believe you've been introducing Miss Smith-Rhodes to the Roundworld Project, professor?"
"Yes, sir. HEX consulted with me, and he considered she could usefully be shown the Serengeti Plain and perhaps the Kruger National Park."
Ponder had wondered at the time if HEX had been got at by others who wanted to join in the general atmosphere of match-making, or whether the computing machine had, off its own bat, decided (on Ponder's behalf) to gift-wrap a continent for her.
But it had worked: with squeals of delight, she had immersed herself in the wildlife of Africa, loudly exclaiming how much like home it all was, Ponder!
"We did need a wildlife and zoological specialist, sir. And I did very carefully take her back several hundred years before the creation of any sovereign state called South Africa. I thought this would be prudent."
"So she has several surprises to come, then." He turned the file over in his hands. It was labelled
Roundworld Project.
Access strictly restricted.
Category: Historical/Political.
Subject: History and Politics of the Union of South Africa, 1600-2100.
"She inquired into the possibility of taking a class of Assassins' Guild pupils into Roundworld on one of her Nature Trails, sir. The advantages for her are that this would take away the necessity of a ten-week voyage to and from Howondaland and replace it with a ten-minute walk across the City. It also appealed to her that an over-confident pupil could be torn to bits by the wildlife in virtual reality, and still be alive and unhurt afterwards, to reflect on their mistakes. I have no objections, and I'm sure the Arch-chancellor will agee, as he's well disposed towards her."
"I do appreciate all the inventive ways the teaching staff at my old school have originated to identify and punish over-confidence. In my day, the options were so much more limited. Is she aware that a nation state remarkably like her own exists on Roundworld?" Vetinari inquired.
"She knows a little, sir. But at the moment, she's captivated by the scenery and the wildlife."
Vetinari smiled.
"I would be pleased if you were to exercise great caution in introducing her to too much of the history of South Africa, Professor." he said, and steepled his fingers.
"At the moment, I believe, given the opportunity for change presented by this city, that she is seriously questioning some of the beliefs she grew up with. For her, the world is becoming too small for old prejudices to be comfortably sustained. This is no bad thing. She is an intelligent and sensible young woman. But she could very easily be shocked and traumatised to be shown too much and too soon, and this can often have the undesired effect of reinforcing old thought-patterns. Showing her, for instance, the dismantling of apartheid and the voluntary relinquishment of white minority rule could well force her back into the comforting shell of her old beliefs."
"I think I see what you mean, sir." Ponder said, thoughtfully. "That she needs to be carefully guided to the point where she sees for herself that things need to change, and the current way of doing things is unsustainable."
"I agree" said Vetinari. "It is a pleasing thought, is it not, that the last white president saw things could not carry on as they had done in the past, and he brought about a bloodless handover of power to a black leader who proved remarkably free from prejudice and a desire for revenge, despite his having spent most of his life in prison? Maybe in thirty or forty years, the last member of the Smith-Rhodes family to achieve high office in her country will do the same. Stranger things have happened, after all. Show her the massacres at Sharpeville and Soweto, by all means, that were carried out in the name of a government not unlike the one she serves. The seeds of doubt have been planted, and they now require the appropriate fertiliser. Il faut coutiver notre jardin, as a wise man said."(2)
Realising he'd been given good advice and was now dismissed, Ponder made to rise. The Patrician smiled "And I wish you both very well indeed, of course!" he said.
Ponder Stibbons left.
Vetinari read the South Africa document thoughtfully for a few minutes. Then he skipped to a few pages before the end.
His mind considered a request to the Embassy in Pratoria. For my own interest, prepare reports on key prisoners currently held by the Staadt in its high-security prisons. Those who have been jailed for acts against, or opposition to, the current dispensation of the Staadt towards its non-white skinned citizens.
It would be interesting, very interesting, to predict who the Discworld's Nelson Mandela was going to be…
(1) Really true: alarmed by reports that the Soviet Union was researching into occult and supernatural methods of espionage, the United States commited millions of dollars to psychic research of its own, into for instance the idea that top –secret bases and sensitive foreign Embassies could be infiltrated by psychics walking in, invisibly, on the Astral Plane, to look around and eavesdrop with impunity. (See book, by Jon Ronson, The Men Who Stared at Goats)
Remote viewing was the name given to the idea that a psychic could eavesdrop on Moscow without leaving the Pentagon.
In a really magic place like the Discworld, this psychic espionage and counter-espionage would undoubtedly happen for real.
(2) French philosopher Voltaire, in Candide. Roughly "Everyone should look to their own garden"