2 – FINDING TIME
Death stared them in the face. NOT EXACTLY MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
The Doctor looked sheepish. "Well, we now know they are here and where they are lurking."
AND YOU KNOW YOU CANNOT DEFEAT THEM. YOU ARE THE MOST POWERFUL MORTALS CURRENTLY ON THE DISC AND YOU HAD TO RUN FOR YOUR LIVES.
Death's facial expression, if he can be said to have one, is notoriously difficult to read, but Albert had had a lot of experience and he thought there was an amused twinkle deep in those eye sockets. "Master, you have an idea?"
THE HISTORY MONKS MIGHT HELP.
The Doctor was instantly alert. "They are here on the Disc? Children on Gallifrey were told bed-time stories about The Order of Wen. If they exist anywhere it would be here, on the edge of unreality!"
THEY EXIST. YOU SAID THAT GIVEN LONG ENOUGH THE ANGELS WILL STARVE AND DIE? THE MONKS CAN GIVE THEM PLENTY OF TIME TO DIE IN.
"Where can I find these monks?"
THE HIGH RAMTOPS. I WILL TAKE YOU THERE, DOCTOR. YOU CAN RIDE WITH ME ON BINKY'S BACK.
"There is no need, I can use the TARDIS."
YOUR TRAVEL-BOX CAN TAKE YOU TO THE HIGH RAMTOPS, BUT THE VALLEY OF THE EVER-REPEATING DAY MAY BE … PROBLEMATICAL?
"Their control of time would prevent the TARDIS from landing there?"
VERY LIKELY, THE VALLEY IS UNCHANGING, TIME DOES NOT ADVANCE THERE.
"If their Procrastinators are there, then I will get there anyway I can, but I need the TARDIS. Could you first take me back to Ankh-Morpork?"
….
The Doctor entered the TARDIS, and after a few minutes frantic rooting around re-emerged triumphantly holding what looked like a large green jewel. "It's a homing device; carry this with you to the monastery and I can follow you right to the front door."
VERY GOOD, DOCTOR.
Heading hub-wards, Binky sped high above the Disc, invisible to mere mortals, lightly bearing Death to Oi-Dong. While in the TARDIS, the Doctor ran frantically between controls, all the while keeping one eye on a monitor screen as the TARDIS lurched around making weird noises even the Doctor had not heard before. Lights flashed in all eight colours of the Disc rainbow. "This place is getting to you," he muttered.
Finally there was silence, and not a signal lamp as much as flickered: the TARDIS had landed. "Well done, Old Thing, that was quite a ride." The Doctor patted the console affectionately, and headed for the door. Outside it was sunny and cold. The TARDIS was in a monastery courtyard and no one was visible. A skeletal hand beckoned from the dark of a nearby entrance.
COME DOCTOR, THE ABBOT IS WAITING. I HAVE EXPLAINED YOUR MISSION.
They were led down a dim corridor by a young monk who kept giving Death sidelong looks as though he could not quite believe who or what he was half-seeing. The elderly Abbot bowed to his two visitors from his chair, and offered them seats at a low table.
"You will take tea? Our rancid yak butter is not of the quality of old, but we offer honoured guests the best we have. ... Death and I have met each time one of my lives has finished; we are well acquainted. He tells me, Doctor, that you are a 'Time Lord', and not of the Discworld."
"That is true. Time Lords come from the planet Gallifrey, in a different universe to this. I am the last Time Lord; I travel the Time Vortex throughout time and space in a machine called a TARDIS."
"There are tales of those calling themselves 'Time Lords' in our ancient texts, but in all my nine hundred years you are the first I have encountered. You say you are the last? Well, perhaps."
"I too am nine hundred years old and am now in my tenth life. An interesting coincidence."
I DID NOT BRING YOU TOGETHER FOR IDLE CHIT CHAT.
"Forgive an old man. Tell me about these Weeping Angels, Doctor."
While Death sipped cups of scalding tea, the Doctor told what he knew of the Angels, finishing with the debacle of his encounter in the Ankh-Morpork cemetery.
Death brought out an hourglass from within his robes. I MUST GO: A RIOT IN QUIRM.
"You will be back for me soon I hope? This body is worn out."
THAT WOULD BE TELLING.
The Doctor had a brief glimpse of Binky half-filling the room before Death and his Pale Horse faded away.
"There have been creatures similar to your 'Weeping Angels' on Discworld in the past. Our founder, Wen, heard curious old tales as a child, and took them seriously: they sparked his interest in Time. The stories told of creatures like small trolls with enormous eyes. They came out at night and anyone they touched disappeared into the past. If they were caught by daylight they turned to stone until night came again. So the stories said."
"They could well have been the ancestors of the current Weeping Angels. What happened to them?"
"It's not known, but Wen thought that some might still be here. He feared they would be attracted by the procrastinators or the Mandela, so he laid an injunction on us for all time: 'There shall be no depiction of an eye'. There is much elaborate decoration here, in painted scrolls, carved wood and chiselled stone, but you will find absolutely nothing that could be mistaken for an eye."
"What is so important about eyes?"
"If a statue or such like had eyes we would know it was a Time Troll."
"And what would you do? How do you deal with it?"
"Doctor, this body is very old and needs rest. Rinpo is chief acolyte; he will show you the Procrastinators, and introduce you to Master Shoblang. An answer will be found between the three of you."
Rinpo, who had been standing silently next to the Abbot's chair throughout, bowed ever so slightly. "Straight away, Your Reverence. Come, Doctor, you have the honour of being the first stranger ever to enter the Hall of Procrastinators."
On the way, Rinpo pointedly asked the Doctor how proficient he was at slicing time. The Doctor calmly replied that did not have that skill at all. "But you reincarnate?" asked Rinpo.
"Not exactly. I 'regenerate' to a new adult body; much more convenient than reincarnating as a baby. The Abbot is due to reincarnate again soon isn't he?"
"Very soon. Why do you ask?"
"I was just thinking: your chances for advancement may be rather small, but a rare opportunity for command is coming your way."
From the end of the corridor they were walking down came a multitude of noises: machinery rumbling, grinding, groaning, clattering; shouts and commands; a susurration like high wind in a forest.
"We approach the Hall of Procrastinators; prepare to be amazed. Even your Gallifrey can have no such marvels!"
The Hall was cavernous: long, wide and high-roofed. Innumerable great columns of stone turned, some barely moving, others whizzing improbably fast. A dozen monks were busily going to and fro tending them. The Doctor stood and looked around. "A mad factory inside a cathedral – only on Discworld … or Earth!" He brandished his 'sonic screwdriver', a bright green glow. He gawped at the readout and pocketed it. "So much time," he muttered to himself, and then out loud to make himself heard above the din, "Quite right: there is nothing like it on Gallifrey. It must have been added to over the years, Wen could not have done all this?"
Rinpo shouted back, "The very first Procrastinators made by Master Wen are still here, taking and giving Time. He lived long, but most of these came after he left us. Master Shoblang can tell you more: the Procrastinators are in his charge."
Shoblang had a small room just off the main hall, and with the heavy door closed normal conversation was possible. There was a grubby mattress in one corner and no other furnishings but floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with papers, ledgers, books, scrolls, tally sticks and what looked like giant floppy disks. Master Shoblang already knew exactly why the Doctor was there, and he looked troubled. "Doctor, I can dump a couple of hours on a small building a thousand miles away and not affect anything outside its walls. But you are asking me to give an area of land in Ankh-Morpork a thousand years or more. Accuracy with so much time is not possible: it would engulf the whole city and kill every living thing."
"There has to be a way! Are there any procrastinators nearer Ankh Morpork? Isn't there a temple in the city itself?"
"You are well informed. However, our temple there has only one small procrastinator, not able to manipulate more than fifty years."
"Could I borrow one? I could use the TARDIS to transport it."
"First show me this TARDIS."
.…
Half an hour later, Shoblang had seen the controls on the console, and been given a semi-technical account of the abilities of a TARDIS by the Doctor. He was much impressed, but despite his enthusiasm he was far from convinced: "It is a remarkable thing, a TARDIS, but even so you must have had difficulty bringing it here."
"It was bumpy ride."
"I do not think it could safely move a large procrastinator: there would be ructions in what you call the space-time continuum."
"How do we find out?"
"We, that is, our Qu, has developed wearable procrastinators which store just a minute or two. I think we could start with one of those."
"Qu? Great name, I'm sure I've heard it before … somewhere. Shouldn't we get him involved?"
Rinpo, who had been hovering in the background, something he seemed to do a lot, was at once in the foreground. "No, err, no need! … Err, I'm sure the Abbot would have said if he'd wanted Qu involved. Isn't that right, Master Shoblang?"
"Eh? … Oh no, no need to involve Qu himself, no need at all."
Although no expert in human relations, the Doctor could not miss the vibe. "Ah, am I detecting some negativity here?" Silence. "OK, just get a couple of these procrastinators of his. Bring them here to the TARDIS, I need to try a few things."
The Doctor, assisted by Shoblang, was in and out of the TARDIS non-stop, bringing out weird-looking gadgets. They began by dumping these on the flagstones of the courtyard, but the man who been sweeping these dashed off to return moments later with several burly young monks hefting a great refectory table. Behind them came two more bearing a large blackboard and stand. The Doctor muttered his thanks without pausing, and made a mental note to get to know the humble sweeper who had shown such initiative when Master Rinpo, the Abbot's deputy, could only stand in the background and look useless.
They soon had the blackboard covered with Gallifreyan script and scribbled diagrams, and on the table a sprawl of gadgetry. The centre of attention was a tiny procrastinator turning slowly within a jury-rigged assembly from which a thick, multicoloured cable ran back into the TARDIS. If you looked closely you could see the cable twitching slightly.
The Doctor looked very pleased with himself. "We can do better than transport a procrastinator, we can use the TARDIS to amplify the power of one and focus its delivery, though I'll need your help to do that." Master Shoblang nodded.
Rinpo was again in the foreground. "Master Shoblang cannot leave the monastery. Nor do I believe that your TARDIS can squeeze a thousand years out of Qu's toy procrastinator."
"The plan is to use the procrastinator in the temple on Ankh-Morpork. Shoblang assures me it has sufficient power. I will ask the Abbot's permission to borrow him for a short while. The TARDIS time travels: I can have your chief of the procrastinators back here almost as soon as we leave."
But even as the Doctor was speaking a monk appeared and whispered in Shoblang's ear. Shoblang bowed to the Doctor. "My deepest apologies, Doctor, but we have a difficulty: there is a problem with the Mandela which I must address immediately. It seems that the simple presence of your TARDIS is affecting it adversely, and this is becoming critical. You must leave in your machine without delay and I must stay to help quell the disturbance. May we meet again!" And he was gone.
The Doctor looked startled and Master Rinpo looked smug. "Do not be downcast, Doctor. Sweeper will help you take away all this un-Discworld clutter. Then you must leave, as Master Soblang says. You may take Sweeper with you if you wish; he can deputise for Master Shoblang." It is said that History Monks neither laugh nor cry; this may be true, but Rinpo got very close to a smirk.
Meanwhile, however, the sweeper had already carried almost everything back into the TARDIS. "Doctor, Sir, everything but the wearable procrastinator is now stowed back aboard your vessel. I should be honoured to travel with you to Ankh-Morpork and do my humble best to assist you."
"Err, how did you do that so quickly?"
"Take me with you and it will be my pleasure to guide you in the subtle art of time slicing."
"Let's go."