Chapter 4 – The Book of Animals
It was the next day. Maurice had already enjoyed an adequate meal consisting of the various rodents that could be found throughout Ankh-Morpork. But, unlike previously, now he gave them a chance to speak before consuming them. He had told the mice and rats that he had met that all they needed to do was to say a word, and he would leave them alone. Fortunately, only the rats around the rubbish heap near Unseen University seemed to possess thought and intelligence – and so all other rodents could be thought of as food. But Maurice always vowed to check first, just in case.
He had wandered the streets of Ankh-Morpork, partly to see if he could find out more information about the little dog that was apparently like him, but mostly so that he had a chance to think. He had met a few cats earlier that day, and had tried to engage them in conversation – but they had seemed dull and uninteresting. To think that, only a few days ago, he had been like that. It made him wonder how the first humans to develop consciousness had felt about their kin – did they feel superior, or perhaps lonely, knowing that they were fundamentally different from others? Possibly, but it was unlikely that he would ever know now.
Maurice toyed with the idea of going to one of the Watch houses, to see if anyone there knew the possible whereabouts of the little talking doggie – but he quickly rejected this idea. The werewolf had growled at him earlier, after all, and that had said a great deal in its own way – so far, you have done nothing wrong, well done. As yet, I have no legitimate excuse to tear you limb from limb. But if you put a paw wrong…
Maurice had decided not to risk it. Chances were that the little doggie knew nothing about what had happened to him, either – mutts were pretty stupid generally, although marginally less stupid that thoroughbred dogs.
So, Maurice had made his way back to the rubbish heap near Unseen University. At least he could have a conversation with the rats. When he got there, he found the little female rat that he had met earlier – what was her name? Oh, yes, Peaches – she had been reading to Dangerous Beans from a small picture book, called Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure. Maurice had never seen the book before – but he knew the type of book it was. It involved animals that could talk and think in much the same way that he and the rats could – but these animals wore clothes and interacted with humans. Humans, Maurice knew, read that sort of book to young children. Then, after listening to adventures featuring pigs, sheep, rabbits, and other animals, they would go home and eat them. They would also read stories about rats and mice – then put down poison and traps for them. Humans were weird like that.
But, within Mr Bunnsy Has an Adventure, the animals (or should that be Animals, as they clearly had thought, intelligence, and sentience?) interacted with humans, wore clothes, and acted, fundamentally, like little humans.
This had clearly puzzled the rats, the Changelings as they called themselves, who lived around the rubbish heap close to Unseen University. They seemed to be developing something of a philosophy, almost a religion, based on Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure. They were wondering if this was what an ideal future would be like – with them talking to humans, and humans – without fear, or hatred – talking to them as equals. Was this how life could be? What could they do, they wondered, to make this possible future a reality?
Maurice listened to them talking about the Book, taking an interest in their conversation and their philosophical musings about it. It seemed to him that, with the development of sentience and consciousness, there was also – for rats and humans alike – a sense of wondering about who they were, and why the world was as it was now, as well as how it might be changed in the future. Of course, Maurice had been wondering something similar – why am I the way I am now? Why am I different from the way I was before? The rats, however, had pretty much reached the conclusion that the answer to these questions were that they had been changed simply due to having eaten something special and magical from the rubbish heap. Yet, there was the deeper question – what do I do with my life, now that I have been Changed? There seemed to be an acceptance amongst most, if not all, of the rats, that they could no longer live in the way that they had previously, as ordinary rats – eating, gnawing, chewing, and creating more rats – they had to do something more with their new intelligence and abilities.
Hmm, thought Maurice, as he listened – this is interesting. They want to develop something like a rat society, some way that enables them to develop their skills, so that they can be more than just rats. They no longer want to be just vermin, living off of what humans choose to leave and disregard – they believe that they should be involved, now, in more productive pursuits. Perhaps I can still make use of them – manipulate them to my will, get them by the curiosity and the desire – so that they can help me to achieve something that will lead to me having a more comfortable old age.
Maurice remembered the old lady and the kitten from earlier, and the desire that he had felt to have the comforts that she was lavishing on the little cat. Perhaps the rats could help him to achieve just that – he might no longer be able to think of them as food, but that did not mean that they still could not be of use to him.
He listened intently as the rats discussed clothes – it seemed that all of the characters in Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure wore some kind of clothing. Even the snake (what was his name? It could be Olly. And how did his tie stay on, when the snake was shaped like a thick piece of string?) wore a tie. Perhaps, the rats said, that was the way to developing their future culture. They had agreed that it was worth a try, and so they had apparently tried to wear waistcoats, and the other types of clothing as warn by the Animals within their precious Book.
With, it had to be said, decidedly limited success. Waistcoats tore to rags as the rats ran, and it was impossible for them to run very well in shirts or leggings. Ties were uncomfortable, and caught on brambles and wire netting – once nearly killing an unfortunate rat. Hats simply fell off. After a few days, most of the Changelings simply gave up, deciding that they just could not wear such items, and so should focus their attention on other aspects of building their society.
Most, but not all. Darktan, the trap expert, wore two belts across his chest, giving him a place to put his little sword, while keeping his paws free. Although, to be fair, this could only be considered 'clothing' in the broadest sense of the word.
And the only other exception was Sardines, the only Changeling who had been able to get a hat to stay on his head. (Maurice rather liked Sardines; he also rather liked sardines, but in a completely different way – he could still think of sardines as food, but could no longer think of Sardines as food – and was pretty sure that no cat had ever thought anything like that before). Sardines thought in a way that was almost like a cat – he insisted that he needed to dance, that the rats needed to put on a show, to entertain. It seemed as if his previous life in the theatre had influenced his thought process. And, while the other rats did listen to him, Maurice could tell that they were sceptical.
After a while, Maurice left the rats to their discussions, and wandered around Ankh-Morpork, thinking about what the rats had been saying. Sardines had been right – it was important to give people a show, although Maurice was unsure what that would actually involve in practice. Still, the rats had abilities that Maurice could use – and now the rats themselves were thinking about how they could use their own abilities. And in Maurice's head, various pieces of a plan were coming together, as he considered the rats and their discussions – but there was still one important piece missing.
He found that piece, in a town square near the centre of the city. A stupid looking kid was playing music on his pipe, and a few of the more generous citizens of Ankh-Morpork had given him some coins in appreciation of this. (Maurice mused that it was amazing that no-one had stolen this money yet). Maurice listened to the stupid looking kid for a long moment. He was not able to distinguish between good and bad human music – it all sounded like a lot of rattling to him – but, judging by the coins being given to this human musician, other humans at least found his music adequately pleasing.
Maurice padded towards the young musician, and a few of the younger children in the audience petted him gently. Then Maurice sat down right next to the stupid looking kid, who did not appear to notice him, since he seemed to be concentrating instead on his music. Maurice waited with the patience that only a cat can command, until the stupid looking kid stopped playing, and got to his feet.