Title: lovely weather we're having, isn't it?
Summary: The age-old starter of non-conversation suddenly becomes a large part of Vetinari's life, as do talking boxes and brightly painted bits of metal that go vroom.
Chapter 5: August 29: Light showers, highs in the low 70s
Vetinari sat on the bed like a black flamingo looming out of a flower-strewn meadow. He was saying, "That's not a problem, Mrs. Fiorentini." He felt almost as if he was back in school, and Mrs. Fiorentini was a teacher offering well meaning but unsolicited advice. Or, in this case, comfort.
"But you're fired! If I'd known that was going to happen, I wouldn't have let the man in. And he seemed so nice, too…"
That was the problem, thought Vetinari. Mrs. Fiorentini thought everyone was "so nice." That was, however, how Vetinari had gotten a place to sleep at night.
"It's not a problem," he repeated. "I don't mind."
"How could you not mind? A job is one of the most important things a person can have," she said, firmly.
What could Vetinari say? When he'd unexpectedly wound up on a completely different planet, he'd made the best of the situation. At one point he'd even thought about staying permanently. The more advanced technology offered simple comforts, while the people remained essentially the same. It would've been simple to recreate here what he'd had back on the Disc, and maybe things would've gone well. At that exact instant, however, Vetinari just wanted Ankh-Morpork back.
"I'm planning to leave today," he said, carefully.
"Oh!" said Mrs. Fiorentini. "When?"
"Right now, actually," said Vetinari.
"Oh, well, you should take some food with you. And you should have your money back, I insist—"
"It would be valueless where I'm going," said Vetinari grimly. "And I'm afraid there's no exchange rate."
"Oh," said Mrs. Fiorentini, for the third time. Then, "It's been nagging at me all night, but… What have you been eating?"
"Ah, yes, about that. I hope you don't mind, but I've been taking food from your kitchen."
"No you haven't," Mrs. Fiorentini insisted. "I would've noticed!"
Vetinari shrugged.
"What kind of food?"
"Bread," said Vetinari.
"Bread?"
"The sliced kind."
"The kind I keep on the counter? I think I would've noticed if you'd been taking some."
"Maybe," said Vetinari in a distinctly noncommittal way.
"How much bread?" she persisted.
Vetinari tilted his gaze up in silent calculation. "Four slices so far," he said finally.
"A day?" asked Mrs. Fiorentini. "That's hardly enough…"
"Total," said Vetinari.
"What?" she asked.
"I've taken four slices, total."
"But… but… You've been here six days!"
"Five, really."
"All you've eaten were four slices of bread?"
"And I've been taking water from your sink."
"Four slices of bread and tap water?"
"I hope you don't mind," said Vetinari evenly.
"That can't be enough! You have to come down and eat something, this instant!"
"Do I?" asked Vetinari. "Actually, I really must be going."
This stopped Mrs. Fiorentini on her tracks. "At least some cookies," she tried.
"I'm afraid not," said Vetinari.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Home."
"Is it far?"
"Unimaginably. Goodbye, Mrs. Fiorentini. Thank you for your hospitality."
Vetinari stepped outside into a mild breeze. He made his way down the street, around the corner, and followed the path until it widened into a busy highway. He went along the edge of the road, listening to the cars rush by him, thinking carefully. The conclusion he came up with didn't seem quite cogent without alcohol to help it along, but he felt it would have to do. It went something like this:
It was a well-known fact (well-known to some, anyway) that whenever there were two possible choices, the Trousers of Time opened up. Reality branched, and you went down one Leg. Another you went down the other Leg into an Alternate Dimension, where things were subtly and yet undeniably different because of that one choice.
It was also known, but to a more select group of people, that there were other worlds beside the Disc, and other universes besides the one in which the Disc resided. In fact, a better word might have been "Multiverse," because there were multiple universes. The others existed in, well, in an Alternate Dimension. The Earth was one of them. A whole bunch of people lived on the Earth, just as a whole bunch of people lived on the Disc, and they never realized there was a Disc at all, because in their Dimension, there wasn't one.
So Vetinari thought: what was the connection between the Alternate Dimensions in the Trousers of Time principle and the one in the Multiverse principle? What if there wasn't a difference? What if they were the same thing? What if, In The Beginning, whoever had created the Disc had decided, "A disc of mud? On four elephants? On a turtle? What a stupid idea. Let's make a ball of dirt instead."
Of course, that hadn't happened, so we needn't worry about it, people said.
But it could have. And the Trousers of Time didn't necessarily only apply to mortals. The Trousers opened up for the Creator; down one leg, there was the Disc, and down the other, there was the Earth.
And that, in fact, was it. The entirety of Vetinari's amazing conclusion. It needed some work, he admitted, such as, Why Had They Never Met Anyone From the Earth Who'd Traveled Down the Wrong Leg? Then again, as he thought about it, maybe they had. Where else could the theory of the Multiverse have come from, if not a firsthand eyewitness? And what was he, in fact?
So he had been thrown down the wrong Leg of the Trousers. All he had to do then was get back down the right Leg.
It sounded simple.
Vetinari began walking, quickly, sharp eyes fixed on the cars at his side. Without warning, he stepped into the middle of the street and turned to look at the large truck bearing down upon him. It had a bumper sticker in its front window. It said, in small print, "If you can read this, you're too close to my truck."
Vetinari could read it. He wondered if he should move a bit further away.
The Trousers of Time opened up for him, sure enough, but if they were Trousers, they had been designed to be worn by several octopuses at the same time. As he sped down his Leg, many other Legs went by him. At any second, he could've jumped back to the safety of the grass beside the road, and in some Alternate Dimensions, he did. The multitude of Legs thickened like bramble, branching out at bewildering speeds. Vetinaris all over the place leapt to safety, ducked down, stepped to the side.
We will, however, follow the most interesting Leg, which comes to an abrupt end as if amputated off. The Vetinari at the end of it knew that it was time when he heard the screech of breaks and saw what seemed like a wall in front of him—the end of his Leg, and not a very dignified one either. He grabbed it, almost falling through before it somehow solidified under him, heaved himself up, and almost fell over into another Leg. They were all so tightly packed that he had difficulty maneuvering himself through them, but he did anyway, realizing with ridiculous good cheer that in fact what he was clinging so desperately to was the crotch of Time.
After a while, it got easier, crawling through Dimensions. All the Legs were lined up, kind of like a harmonica, and being able to crawl through the fabric between the Legs didn't seem strange if he thought of them like fog or water. He just had to make sure that his hand didn't move through what it was clinging to, which was pretty easy after running a city like Ankh-Morpork. He slipped, sometimes, slid down a few minutes, sometimes a few hours, but regained his balance before long.
And also before long, he came to a leg that felt so achingly familiar he nearly fell over from the shock. It was cold where all the others had been slightly warm, as if with body heat, and Vetinari felt this was a good sign. It meant that he wasn't inhabiting the leg when he should've been. That could be fixed.
And he let go.
Before we continue following this Leg, it must be said that no Vetinari anywhere got run over by that truck. Funny how that works.