Daniel Jess Gibson
11th July 2004, 02:00 AM
[NGE][Discworld][Fusion][Fanfic]
The characters are the property of Terry Pratchett, the situations are the
property of Gainex and Hideaki Anno
C&C , MSTs are welcome
E-mail: dan_s.comments@worldnet.att.net
Other fiction available at:
http://home.att.net/~dan_s.comments/
Neon Genesis Wossname
The familiar room, the glowing Sephiroth incised in the floor, the
stern figure sitting behind the massive desk. The glasses poised
precariously on the tip of the nose, and the figure's hand reaching up
towards them.
The hands closed on the glasses, pulling them off, a stern gaze
examined them. "What use are spectacles that won't stay?" Granny
Weatherwax glared at the glasses again, then set them down and reached for
her hat. She placed this firmly on her head. In a moment it was secure,
it wouldn't be slipping all over the place. "Better."
The door to the office burst open, Granny's ally and fellow witch
Nanny Ogg breezed in. "Cooee, posh place, this!" Nanny announced.
"What are you wearing?"
"Like it?" Nanny turned around. "Breezier than I'm used to, but least
it's black." Nanny tugged at the short, black dress. "But I've still got
the legs for it," Nanny cackled as she put her hobnailed boots on the desk.
Granny decided not to comment.
"The hat's a no go though." Nanny removed her pointed hat, fidgeted
with the new hat band, all that was left of the beret that originally had
been part of the costume. She removed a can of Yebisu, opened it. "Beer
in tins, don't need a hammer to open'em, like I said, posh. Hobnobbin'
with the nobs."
"Then why don't the spectacles fit?" Granny asked crossly, "I'm still
waitin' for the others, and an explanation. Where are they?"
"You don't wear a hat, Commander; and you don't wear spectacles,
Esme."
"There are more important things," Granny replied, "Like that heathen
writt'n in the floor. Or is it for dances? Need to get some sawdust,
cover it up, must give people comin' in a right headache."
"I think that's the point."
"What for?" Granny asked, "If you can't get'em to do what needs
doin'?"
I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY. The figure was tall, wearing an
ill-fitting blue and white plugsuit, and an equally ill-fitting blue wig.
It stumbled against the desk, the red marbles, that made its eye sockets
look like red eyes, tumbled to the ground. OH DEAR.
"Well, that explains a lot," Granny said, "You could have told me,
Gytha Ogg."
"Ver' good costume," Nanny said, handing the Grim Reaper the fallen
blue wig. "Never saw blue thatch befor'. Very . . . "
I HAD TO LOOK THE PART.
"Shouldn't the cowl be on the outside?" Nanny noted that none of them
were comfortable giving up all of their usual `uniforms`.
THE COSTUME IS FORM-FITTING . . .
"Ah, why us?" Granny asked as Death sat down, contemplating the
marbles.
I HAD SUCH HOPES . . . I AM SORRY, THE PERSONALITY TYPES ARE
IMPORTANT. NEITHER THE SPECTACLES NOR THE HAT ARE IMPORTANT.
"What is important?" Granny asked, staring at Death, it was a good
stare, one of her best.
Death shied away from Granny's stare.
YOU HAVE THE REQUISITE QUALITIES.
Granny's next question was interrupted by a white-haired young woman
storming in. "Grandfather! This is going too far!" Susan held up the red
plugsuit. "It's indecent." She glanced at Nanny Ogg's costume, and with
some difficulty, wisely decided not to comment.
"You aren't supposed to show up yet," Nanny said, having clearly heard
the unspoken comment.
"And these lines." She brandished a script. "They're stupid, no one
really talks like this."
A CERTAIN CREATIVE LIBERTY SEEMS ALLOWABLE. Death explained.
Susan frowned, opened the script, "'Don't try to frighten us with your
sorcerous ways.'"
Nanny's brow furrowed. "Deary."
"'Hasn't located their hidden base.'"
"DEARY!" Nanny interrupted.
"What?"
"That isn't the script, deary." Nanny pulled a telephone book-sized
script from somewhere, handed it to Susan.
"If I have your script, what do you do?" Susan asked.
Nanny cackled. "When I need a piece of paper to tell me when to do
those things, I'll not only be ready for your Grandfather, I'll be happy to
see him." Nanny cackled so more.
Granny rolled her eyes. "I always said you was a bossy one, Gytha
Ogg."
"That too," Nanny replied.
"So who are we fighting?" Granny demanded of Death.
The room abruptly vanished, only the desk and chairs remained.
Dozens, if not hundreds of gray monoliths appeared around them, all read
'SEELE 00 Sound Only'.
We. The word hadn't been spoken, but everyone heard the sound of it
die away.
YOU HAVE ALREADY BROKEN THE AGREEMENT. Death commented. ONE OF YOU
SENT MY GRANDDAUGHTER THE WRONG SCRIPT.
"All's fair in war I th . . . oh damn." One of the monolith's winked
out, another immediately replaced it. It had become an individual, and all
individuals are temporary.
"The battle accepts no result except victory."
"Glad to hear it," Granny placed the spectacles on and pushed them up
her long nose. She concentrated her stare at the newly arrived monolith.
"You can't intimidate me . . . oh . . . " It evaporated. The others
faded before Granny could fix on another target.
As the room returned, there were two additional occupants.
"I have to apologize, Your Lordship," the fat one in the armor
groveled expertly.
The tall, thin man, even Granny thought of him as 'severe', was
clearly inexperienced with reassuring underlings, "I assure you, Sergeant,
it will all be sorted out."
THERE WAS SOME CONFUSION ABOUT THE CORRECT CHARACTERIZATION OF YOUR
ASSISTANT. Death explained to Granny.
"I take it we will perform the role jointly then?" the Patrician asked
after he had introduced himself and Sergeant Colon.
Death nodded. Sergeant Colon ignored everything except the figure in
the blue and white plugsuit.
The Patrician stared at the waxen expression on the Sergeant's face.
"Overjoyed to be of assistance no doubt."
"No doubt whatsoever," Granny commented under her breath. "Them can't
be a big threat."
THEY USE PROXIES. Death explained. IF THEY CANNOT DESTROY HUMANS AS
A WHOLE, THEY CAN DESTROY THEIR HUMANITY.
Granny and Nanny exchanged looks, they both knew very well who would
be willing to do this.
"Commander," a gruff male voice announced, "Systems have detected an
Angel."
THE ENEMY. Death told them quickly.
"Let's see it," Granny said.
"Yes, Commander," the disembodied voice said.
What appeared was a city scene, dominated by something that clearly
wasn't a building. It was tall, and human looking, brightly colored and it
had _Style_!_
There was only one kind of mind that made war machines that look like
they stepped out of a child's sugar-induced nightmare.
AN ELFANGELION.
----------------------------------------
The Librarian had been eager to help. He wasn't comfortable with the
students always checking out the books, wearing out the words by reading
them. But _some_ people should be allowed to read as much as they wished.
The idea that _no_one_ would read was bad enough, the idea that no one
would WRITE horrified him. He'd nearly knuckled over Death in his
eagerness to get at these foes.
So he sat in the room, dangled his feet in the warm, orange water. He
knew he should be almost submerged in it, but he'd tasted it, once. Eight
colors of the rainbow were quite sufficient for him. Besides, he wanted to
keep his new purple robe dry, it made him look rather regal he thought.
The badge labeled '01' was a nice touch, made him feel official.
He glanced worriedly at the room's other occupant, also dipping its
feet, in its case, in shifts of twenty or so. The Luggage had been an
acquaintance, right now the Librarian watched it very carefully.
Someone had painted it a hideous orange, and nailed a badge labeled
'00' below the lock. How they had managed this without carnage was
something on which the Librarian did not want to speculate.
Someone might have said that the Luggage looked cross. The Librarian
thought that was ridiculous. A steamer trunk looking piece of baggage,
with only an unmoving lock as a means of expression, 'looks cross' indeed.
The Luggage was clearly bloody furious. All it needed was a target for
that rage.
Voices approached, the Librarian buffed his badge on his arm, to look
presentable. He also felt courtesy required he should give some warning to
innocent bystanders.
What entered was sufficiently shocking that the Luggage took no
action. The Librarian merely bent close and peered at the tiny figures.
----------------------------------------
The withdrawal of the face of a 40-meter tall ape was a cause for
relief of everyone.
"I'm still not going to do it," the rather dilapidated figure with the
scraggly beard, put upon expression and the pointy hat with sequins
spelling the word 'Wizzard' told the rest of the group.
The sight of the figure being dropped out of a stretcher by Mustrum
Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons had less than its desired effect because, a)
Rincewind knew the figure was Death; b) despite writhing soundlessly, and
in character, it was clear Death was neither in real pain nor a very
convincing actor; and c) Ponder and Ridcully had been overly generous with
the bandages, to the point that a person so padded and mummified, wouldn't
have been hurt by being thrown off a ten-story building.
"You don't need me to pilot," Rincewind returned his attention to the
vertical members of the group. "You can't tell me you need me to 'pilot'
the Librarian, I don't even know how!"
"He's in character," Ridcully murmured.
Rincewind was aware of the force of the people staring at him, but
he'd run away from greater danger in his life before. He saw no reason to
change a winning formula.
"If you don't fight it," Granny told him, "We'll all be in a lot of
trouble."
Rincewind looked at the large metal tubes with the seats in them, he'd
read enough of the script to know that's where the pilot sat. "Where
exactly are those supposed to go?"
"Ook! Eeek!"
"I thought so."
An image of the creature they had seen before appeared above them. It
was tipping over a few outlying skyscrapers, and listening to them crash.
Rincewind's protest was cut short by an enraged 'Ook!' and the huge
orangutan knuckling past them and out the doors of the EVA bay.
"Coo', he didn' open'em first," Nanny Ogg said.
Granny turned to the Patrician, "Professor, clear that up." She
turned and marched away.
"Sergeant," the Patrician said and walked away.
"Right your Lordship," Sergeant Colon said and desperately looked
around for someone to pass it too, except Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons were
leaving with Nanny, that left Rincewind and Death, neither seemed the order
taking type.
EXCUSE ME. Death struggled under the weight and confinement of the
bandages. I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP.
----------------------------------------
On the command deck, Samuel Vimes took a long drag on his cigar and
helped to his feet the white-haired old man, who was tinkering with the
device. The nervous looking woman in the corner seemed as lost as he was.
Vimes didn't mind the costume, wearing a dress and a blonde wig to 'Save
The World' seemed the way the universe generally worked. Considering some
of the crazy things he'd had to do. At least he could smoke in here,
despite the woman's disapproving stare.
"Anyway." The old man examined what looked like a collection of
metallic spiders. "How did you know projecting the words 'Public Library'
on the fallen building would have that effect?"
"I know my apes." Sam Vimes stared at the screen. "What do you call
this?" He gestured at the three huge cabinets and the odd desks.
"Oh, it's my Machine for Analyzing Geometric Irregularities. I call
it the Geometric Irregularity Analyzing Machine."
Vimes nodded. "What are the mattresses for?" Vimes patted the meter
thick layer of padding atop the three cabinets.
"Oh, later I have to throw myself from up there onto the Geometric
Irregularity Analyzing Machine. A person could be seriously injured doing
that."
----------------------------------------
The Librarian didn't know why he'd climbed the tallest pointy
building. It just felt right, felt appropriate for a 40-meter tall ape.
The machine looked like a fancy suit of armor, a _very_ fancy suit of
armor. With bright colors and damasked metal, lots of extra wings and
metal feathers and other gaudy bits. Overall it looked a little like a
metal, flightless bird that had been through an extremely tasteful
explosion in a paint factory.
The Librarian waited for it to pass the building he'd climbed.
Dropping on an opponent from behind wasn't chivalrous, but these were
elves, they like _hearing_ about chivalry, they liked hearing about any
kind of romantic stupidity. He examined the equally overdecorated back of
the machine. It was Baroque, but he'd fix it.
----------------------------------------
The entire crew was slowly turning their heads from side-to-side.
"Does the head normally unscrew that way?" Ponder asked.
NOT IN MY EXPERIENCE.
The fight hadn't exactly been one-sided, a one-sided fight implied the
other side was at least making an effort. That didn't apply here. 'Unit
01' hadn't done much more than land on the Elfangelion, and while gripping
with his feet, began dismantling it. Being a veteran of many tavern
brawls, he'd started with the arms, he unscrewed them, which if they
couldn't originally, they certainly could now. Then the legs, ditto.
Finally the head, which eventually surrendered to the relentless logic
that anything can be unscrewed if you apply enough force.
"I don't think the Librarian has a slot between the shoulder blades,"
Rincewind commented on the metal tube the Librarian had extracted from the
disintegrated machine.
----------------------------------------
The Librarian knew that there was an elf in the tube, he could smell
it. Despite the success, he decided against trying to unscrew this one,
there was such a thing as pushing a good idea too far.
He bit the end off the tube and shook out the elf inside. The
creature shot him in the nose with a bow and arrow. The elf shot made him
sneeze.
"You can't hurt me!" the elf shouted, "Monkeys are all plant-eaters!"
A satisfying crunch later, the Librarian reflected that if the elf
respected books more, he might have read that orangutans occasionally ate
insects, and that elf certainly bugged him.
----------------------------------------
"That may not have been according to the script," Susan commented,
"But I think we won."
THAT WAS NUMBER THREE, NUMBERS FOUR THROUGH EIGHTEEN TO GO. Death
told the others.
"What about one and two?" Granny asked.
THEY DO NOT TAKE PART. Death replied.
"Well." Granny took the spectacles out of her pocket and placed them
on her face. "Professor, take care of this."
"Of course." The Patrician turned to the newly arrived Sergeant
Colon, who saluted.
"Yes, your Lordship, I know, 'Take care of it.'"
"Good man." The Patrician turned to the others.
"Good man, that ape," Ridcully said, "Tribute to the University."
"He doesn't like being called a monkey," Ponder added.
"I believe we all gathered _that_,_" Nanny commented, "Don't like it
much me'self." She removed her hat, removed the beer therein, opened and
drank it. "Can't wait for the next one. Let's sic the box on that one."
Ridcully and Ponder shuddered, they clearly wondered what elves had
done to deserve that hideous fate.
Author's Note: the result of a letter, explaining NGE to Terry Pratchett
fans,
And WAY too much celebrating.
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The characters are the property of Terry Pratchett, the situations are the
property of Gainex and Hideaki Anno
C&C , MSTs are welcome
E-mail: dan_s.comments@worldnet.att.net
Other fiction available at:
http://home.att.net/~dan_s.comments/
Neon Genesis Wossname
The familiar room, the glowing Sephiroth incised in the floor, the
stern figure sitting behind the massive desk. The glasses poised
precariously on the tip of the nose, and the figure's hand reaching up
towards them.
The hands closed on the glasses, pulling them off, a stern gaze
examined them. "What use are spectacles that won't stay?" Granny
Weatherwax glared at the glasses again, then set them down and reached for
her hat. She placed this firmly on her head. In a moment it was secure,
it wouldn't be slipping all over the place. "Better."
The door to the office burst open, Granny's ally and fellow witch
Nanny Ogg breezed in. "Cooee, posh place, this!" Nanny announced.
"What are you wearing?"
"Like it?" Nanny turned around. "Breezier than I'm used to, but least
it's black." Nanny tugged at the short, black dress. "But I've still got
the legs for it," Nanny cackled as she put her hobnailed boots on the desk.
Granny decided not to comment.
"The hat's a no go though." Nanny removed her pointed hat, fidgeted
with the new hat band, all that was left of the beret that originally had
been part of the costume. She removed a can of Yebisu, opened it. "Beer
in tins, don't need a hammer to open'em, like I said, posh. Hobnobbin'
with the nobs."
"Then why don't the spectacles fit?" Granny asked crossly, "I'm still
waitin' for the others, and an explanation. Where are they?"
"You don't wear a hat, Commander; and you don't wear spectacles,
Esme."
"There are more important things," Granny replied, "Like that heathen
writt'n in the floor. Or is it for dances? Need to get some sawdust,
cover it up, must give people comin' in a right headache."
"I think that's the point."
"What for?" Granny asked, "If you can't get'em to do what needs
doin'?"
I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY. The figure was tall, wearing an
ill-fitting blue and white plugsuit, and an equally ill-fitting blue wig.
It stumbled against the desk, the red marbles, that made its eye sockets
look like red eyes, tumbled to the ground. OH DEAR.
"Well, that explains a lot," Granny said, "You could have told me,
Gytha Ogg."
"Ver' good costume," Nanny said, handing the Grim Reaper the fallen
blue wig. "Never saw blue thatch befor'. Very . . . "
I HAD TO LOOK THE PART.
"Shouldn't the cowl be on the outside?" Nanny noted that none of them
were comfortable giving up all of their usual `uniforms`.
THE COSTUME IS FORM-FITTING . . .
"Ah, why us?" Granny asked as Death sat down, contemplating the
marbles.
I HAD SUCH HOPES . . . I AM SORRY, THE PERSONALITY TYPES ARE
IMPORTANT. NEITHER THE SPECTACLES NOR THE HAT ARE IMPORTANT.
"What is important?" Granny asked, staring at Death, it was a good
stare, one of her best.
Death shied away from Granny's stare.
YOU HAVE THE REQUISITE QUALITIES.
Granny's next question was interrupted by a white-haired young woman
storming in. "Grandfather! This is going too far!" Susan held up the red
plugsuit. "It's indecent." She glanced at Nanny Ogg's costume, and with
some difficulty, wisely decided not to comment.
"You aren't supposed to show up yet," Nanny said, having clearly heard
the unspoken comment.
"And these lines." She brandished a script. "They're stupid, no one
really talks like this."
A CERTAIN CREATIVE LIBERTY SEEMS ALLOWABLE. Death explained.
Susan frowned, opened the script, "'Don't try to frighten us with your
sorcerous ways.'"
Nanny's brow furrowed. "Deary."
"'Hasn't located their hidden base.'"
"DEARY!" Nanny interrupted.
"What?"
"That isn't the script, deary." Nanny pulled a telephone book-sized
script from somewhere, handed it to Susan.
"If I have your script, what do you do?" Susan asked.
Nanny cackled. "When I need a piece of paper to tell me when to do
those things, I'll not only be ready for your Grandfather, I'll be happy to
see him." Nanny cackled so more.
Granny rolled her eyes. "I always said you was a bossy one, Gytha
Ogg."
"That too," Nanny replied.
"So who are we fighting?" Granny demanded of Death.
The room abruptly vanished, only the desk and chairs remained.
Dozens, if not hundreds of gray monoliths appeared around them, all read
'SEELE 00 Sound Only'.
We. The word hadn't been spoken, but everyone heard the sound of it
die away.
YOU HAVE ALREADY BROKEN THE AGREEMENT. Death commented. ONE OF YOU
SENT MY GRANDDAUGHTER THE WRONG SCRIPT.
"All's fair in war I th . . . oh damn." One of the monolith's winked
out, another immediately replaced it. It had become an individual, and all
individuals are temporary.
"The battle accepts no result except victory."
"Glad to hear it," Granny placed the spectacles on and pushed them up
her long nose. She concentrated her stare at the newly arrived monolith.
"You can't intimidate me . . . oh . . . " It evaporated. The others
faded before Granny could fix on another target.
As the room returned, there were two additional occupants.
"I have to apologize, Your Lordship," the fat one in the armor
groveled expertly.
The tall, thin man, even Granny thought of him as 'severe', was
clearly inexperienced with reassuring underlings, "I assure you, Sergeant,
it will all be sorted out."
THERE WAS SOME CONFUSION ABOUT THE CORRECT CHARACTERIZATION OF YOUR
ASSISTANT. Death explained to Granny.
"I take it we will perform the role jointly then?" the Patrician asked
after he had introduced himself and Sergeant Colon.
Death nodded. Sergeant Colon ignored everything except the figure in
the blue and white plugsuit.
The Patrician stared at the waxen expression on the Sergeant's face.
"Overjoyed to be of assistance no doubt."
"No doubt whatsoever," Granny commented under her breath. "Them can't
be a big threat."
THEY USE PROXIES. Death explained. IF THEY CANNOT DESTROY HUMANS AS
A WHOLE, THEY CAN DESTROY THEIR HUMANITY.
Granny and Nanny exchanged looks, they both knew very well who would
be willing to do this.
"Commander," a gruff male voice announced, "Systems have detected an
Angel."
THE ENEMY. Death told them quickly.
"Let's see it," Granny said.
"Yes, Commander," the disembodied voice said.
What appeared was a city scene, dominated by something that clearly
wasn't a building. It was tall, and human looking, brightly colored and it
had _Style_!_
There was only one kind of mind that made war machines that look like
they stepped out of a child's sugar-induced nightmare.
AN ELFANGELION.
----------------------------------------
The Librarian had been eager to help. He wasn't comfortable with the
students always checking out the books, wearing out the words by reading
them. But _some_ people should be allowed to read as much as they wished.
The idea that _no_one_ would read was bad enough, the idea that no one
would WRITE horrified him. He'd nearly knuckled over Death in his
eagerness to get at these foes.
So he sat in the room, dangled his feet in the warm, orange water. He
knew he should be almost submerged in it, but he'd tasted it, once. Eight
colors of the rainbow were quite sufficient for him. Besides, he wanted to
keep his new purple robe dry, it made him look rather regal he thought.
The badge labeled '01' was a nice touch, made him feel official.
He glanced worriedly at the room's other occupant, also dipping its
feet, in its case, in shifts of twenty or so. The Luggage had been an
acquaintance, right now the Librarian watched it very carefully.
Someone had painted it a hideous orange, and nailed a badge labeled
'00' below the lock. How they had managed this without carnage was
something on which the Librarian did not want to speculate.
Someone might have said that the Luggage looked cross. The Librarian
thought that was ridiculous. A steamer trunk looking piece of baggage,
with only an unmoving lock as a means of expression, 'looks cross' indeed.
The Luggage was clearly bloody furious. All it needed was a target for
that rage.
Voices approached, the Librarian buffed his badge on his arm, to look
presentable. He also felt courtesy required he should give some warning to
innocent bystanders.
What entered was sufficiently shocking that the Luggage took no
action. The Librarian merely bent close and peered at the tiny figures.
----------------------------------------
The withdrawal of the face of a 40-meter tall ape was a cause for
relief of everyone.
"I'm still not going to do it," the rather dilapidated figure with the
scraggly beard, put upon expression and the pointy hat with sequins
spelling the word 'Wizzard' told the rest of the group.
The sight of the figure being dropped out of a stretcher by Mustrum
Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons had less than its desired effect because, a)
Rincewind knew the figure was Death; b) despite writhing soundlessly, and
in character, it was clear Death was neither in real pain nor a very
convincing actor; and c) Ponder and Ridcully had been overly generous with
the bandages, to the point that a person so padded and mummified, wouldn't
have been hurt by being thrown off a ten-story building.
"You don't need me to pilot," Rincewind returned his attention to the
vertical members of the group. "You can't tell me you need me to 'pilot'
the Librarian, I don't even know how!"
"He's in character," Ridcully murmured.
Rincewind was aware of the force of the people staring at him, but
he'd run away from greater danger in his life before. He saw no reason to
change a winning formula.
"If you don't fight it," Granny told him, "We'll all be in a lot of
trouble."
Rincewind looked at the large metal tubes with the seats in them, he'd
read enough of the script to know that's where the pilot sat. "Where
exactly are those supposed to go?"
"Ook! Eeek!"
"I thought so."
An image of the creature they had seen before appeared above them. It
was tipping over a few outlying skyscrapers, and listening to them crash.
Rincewind's protest was cut short by an enraged 'Ook!' and the huge
orangutan knuckling past them and out the doors of the EVA bay.
"Coo', he didn' open'em first," Nanny Ogg said.
Granny turned to the Patrician, "Professor, clear that up." She
turned and marched away.
"Sergeant," the Patrician said and walked away.
"Right your Lordship," Sergeant Colon said and desperately looked
around for someone to pass it too, except Ridcully and Ponder Stibbons were
leaving with Nanny, that left Rincewind and Death, neither seemed the order
taking type.
EXCUSE ME. Death struggled under the weight and confinement of the
bandages. I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP.
----------------------------------------
On the command deck, Samuel Vimes took a long drag on his cigar and
helped to his feet the white-haired old man, who was tinkering with the
device. The nervous looking woman in the corner seemed as lost as he was.
Vimes didn't mind the costume, wearing a dress and a blonde wig to 'Save
The World' seemed the way the universe generally worked. Considering some
of the crazy things he'd had to do. At least he could smoke in here,
despite the woman's disapproving stare.
"Anyway." The old man examined what looked like a collection of
metallic spiders. "How did you know projecting the words 'Public Library'
on the fallen building would have that effect?"
"I know my apes." Sam Vimes stared at the screen. "What do you call
this?" He gestured at the three huge cabinets and the odd desks.
"Oh, it's my Machine for Analyzing Geometric Irregularities. I call
it the Geometric Irregularity Analyzing Machine."
Vimes nodded. "What are the mattresses for?" Vimes patted the meter
thick layer of padding atop the three cabinets.
"Oh, later I have to throw myself from up there onto the Geometric
Irregularity Analyzing Machine. A person could be seriously injured doing
that."
----------------------------------------
The Librarian didn't know why he'd climbed the tallest pointy
building. It just felt right, felt appropriate for a 40-meter tall ape.
The machine looked like a fancy suit of armor, a _very_ fancy suit of
armor. With bright colors and damasked metal, lots of extra wings and
metal feathers and other gaudy bits. Overall it looked a little like a
metal, flightless bird that had been through an extremely tasteful
explosion in a paint factory.
The Librarian waited for it to pass the building he'd climbed.
Dropping on an opponent from behind wasn't chivalrous, but these were
elves, they like _hearing_ about chivalry, they liked hearing about any
kind of romantic stupidity. He examined the equally overdecorated back of
the machine. It was Baroque, but he'd fix it.
----------------------------------------
The entire crew was slowly turning their heads from side-to-side.
"Does the head normally unscrew that way?" Ponder asked.
NOT IN MY EXPERIENCE.
The fight hadn't exactly been one-sided, a one-sided fight implied the
other side was at least making an effort. That didn't apply here. 'Unit
01' hadn't done much more than land on the Elfangelion, and while gripping
with his feet, began dismantling it. Being a veteran of many tavern
brawls, he'd started with the arms, he unscrewed them, which if they
couldn't originally, they certainly could now. Then the legs, ditto.
Finally the head, which eventually surrendered to the relentless logic
that anything can be unscrewed if you apply enough force.
"I don't think the Librarian has a slot between the shoulder blades,"
Rincewind commented on the metal tube the Librarian had extracted from the
disintegrated machine.
----------------------------------------
The Librarian knew that there was an elf in the tube, he could smell
it. Despite the success, he decided against trying to unscrew this one,
there was such a thing as pushing a good idea too far.
He bit the end off the tube and shook out the elf inside. The
creature shot him in the nose with a bow and arrow. The elf shot made him
sneeze.
"You can't hurt me!" the elf shouted, "Monkeys are all plant-eaters!"
A satisfying crunch later, the Librarian reflected that if the elf
respected books more, he might have read that orangutans occasionally ate
insects, and that elf certainly bugged him.
----------------------------------------
"That may not have been according to the script," Susan commented,
"But I think we won."
THAT WAS NUMBER THREE, NUMBERS FOUR THROUGH EIGHTEEN TO GO. Death
told the others.
"What about one and two?" Granny asked.
THEY DO NOT TAKE PART. Death replied.
"Well." Granny took the spectacles out of her pocket and placed them
on her face. "Professor, take care of this."
"Of course." The Patrician turned to the newly arrived Sergeant
Colon, who saluted.
"Yes, your Lordship, I know, 'Take care of it.'"
"Good man." The Patrician turned to the others.
"Good man, that ape," Ridcully said, "Tribute to the University."
"He doesn't like being called a monkey," Ponder added.
"I believe we all gathered _that_,_" Nanny commented, "Don't like it
much me'self." She removed her hat, removed the beer therein, opened and
drank it. "Can't wait for the next one. Let's sic the box on that one."
Ridcully and Ponder shuddered, they clearly wondered what elves had
done to deserve that hideous fate.
Author's Note: the result of a letter, explaining NGE to Terry Pratchett
fans,
And WAY too much celebrating.
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