Story [Discworld] "Meanwhile, in Ankh-Morpork..." Drabbles for UDC 5 - Sets III. and IV. 09/21

Title: "Meanwhile, in Ankh-Morpork..."
Author: Mar17swgirl
Genre: drama, adventure, humour
Timeframe: all around the Discworld books
Characters: City Watch, wizards, witches, Death & co., random Ankh-Morpork citizens...
Summary: My first time experimenting with drabbles. I chose Discworld for this, because it allows a wide variety of characters, which is great for drabbles.
Dedication: To Idrelle_Miocovani, who inspired me to write drabbles.

---

[b]I.

Doctor[/b]

It was all about the title.

He looked around the office that was now, finally, his. It was ironical that this particular title had been chosen for the head of the Guild, he thought. Although, they [i]did[/i] help people stop being sick. Permanently. The black humour of it all seemed to be fitting.

The young man who had been appointed his personal secretary finished filing the papers.

"Is there anything else, doctor?" he asked.

"No, that would be all, Wiggins, thank you."

Dr. Downey, the new Head of the Assassin's Guild leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was all about the title.


[b]Companion[/b]

Susan glared.

"Alright," she said finally. "But this is the last time I'm getting involved in any of this, do you understand?"

SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats.

"You always say that," said the raven.

"I mean, I have a normal life! I'm [i]trying[/i] to have a normal life!"

SQUEAK EEK SQUEAK.

"The rat says you can't expect to have a normal life when you're Death's granddaughter. And for once, I agree with him."

Susan threw up her arms. "Oh, there's no point arguing with you two. I'll go get Binky..."

A skeletal rat and an obnoxious raven with an eyeball fixation. [i]Some[/i] companions she had.


[b]Time[/b]

It was quarter to six, and Constable Haddock caught up with Sam Vimes as he was leaving the Pseudopolis Yard.

"Message from the palace, sir," he said, handing Vimes a piece of paper. "The Patrician wants to see you immediately."

Vimes took the paper and pocketed it. "Thank you, Constable."

Thirteen minutes later, as he was jogging up the driveway to his house, he took the paper out of his pocket, crumpled it and threw it away. He didn't have time for the Patrician right now.

He entered the nursery, the Book in hand, and sat down.

It was Time To Read To Young Sam.


[b]Space[/b]

It took Albert some time, after he became Death's manservant, to get used to the impossibly large space inside Death's house (although, "time" is a rather loose term here, given that Death's Domain is essentially timeless). Bedrooms the size of cathedrals. Corridors that ran on for miles. Apparently, when he designed his house, Death clearly had no idea what houses were supposed to look like.

It was all very confusing and distracting for Albert, the sheer amount of space. Only later he realised he could ignore most of the extraneous space and adjust the rooms to the size he felt comfortable with.


[b]Dimensions[/b]

Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully frowned at Ponder Stibbons.

"I still don't understand," he said. "What is it supposed to do again?"

Ponder sighed. "The Large Reson Collider," he explained, "is a way to study magic at its most basic level. By running the sub-thaumic particles around in very high speeds, we can simulate the conditions present during the time when magic first appeared. There is a chance of small interdimensional ripples appearing, which would allow us to--"

Ridcully slammed his fist on the billiard table. "Absolutely not, Mr. Stibbons! I will not allow an experiment that would expose us to the Dungeon Dimensions!"

[hr]

All feedback is welcome! :D

 

And the dedications go round and round, round and round, round and round...

Seriously, thanks, Mar!

That just sounds so smooth.

SQUEAK!

Never argue with Death's taste in decor...

Yeah. That would be bad.

Brilliant stuff, Mar! Hey, you're not all that rusty at all! It was a lot of fun!

 

Hehe, of course! The Assassins are always smooth and cool and stylish and classy and all those things.

And of course, me being a Physics nut, I had to make a reference to the Large Hadron Collider and the theories (and public fears) that it could produce microscopic black holes. Magic on Discworld is pretty much equivalent to our particle physics, where an atom is represented by a thaum, the basic unit of magic. However, the experiments at the High Energy Magic department of the Unseen University succeeded in splitting the thaum and discovered it was composed of resons (transl.: thingies ). Large Reson Collider seemed appropriate.

Thanks! I had fun writing them, and hope that my creative writing juices will get going as I write more.

 

II.

Island

Leonard was glad to be back at his airy attic room in the palace. His experience with the whole Leshp business left him slightly bewildered and a bit sad. The world was a crazy place full of madmen. He wondered how he could have ever lived in it. He much more preferred it here, in his private confinement in the Patrician's palace, in his little island of peace and sanity against the sea of madness that was the outside world.

He sighed, made himself a cup of tea, and began designing a device to keep vegetables fresh for long periods of time.


Survival

Many people argued that the reason why Vetinari managed to survive and stay in power for so long was that he had been trained at the Assassins' Guild. This was certainly true, to an extent ? there had been indeed many attempts for his life which he evaded only through his superior skills. But the real challenge of remaining Patrician was in the subtle manipulation of the city politics, so that in the end the city without him would be a much worse option than the city with him.

He looked down at his cane. Sometimes, only sometimes, his survival depended on other people.


Lost

Rincewind was lost. After several hours of hopeless wandering, trying to find out where he was, it was obvious to him that, yet again, he managed to find himself in some completely unfamiliar place on the Disc.

He hated being lost. It usually meant that there would be some completely new threat for him to run away from. Sometimes, he almost longed for familiar threats and dangers. After all, you knew where you were standing with familiar threats (well, "standing"... running in panic, more like). New, unfamiliar threats were always... well, more threatening.

At least it wasn't the Dungeon Dimensions this time.


Other

His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh and Commander of the City Watch groaned inwardly. He hated official parties, but unfortunately Sibyl was adamant this time and practically dragged him to the horrid thing.

He envied his younger self; the other Sam Vimes, who was nothing more than a simple Captain of the Night Watch and therefore unburdened with the dreadful prospect of social responsibilities.

He was unexpectedly saved by the arrival of Captain Carrot bringing news about the sighting of a criminal the Watch had been chasing for weeks. As he ran from the ballroom, Vimes shot an apologetic look at his wife.

Sibyl would understand.


Flashback

Death sighed. He hated the stubborn ones, and Ankh-Morpork stubborn ones were the worst.

LOOK, I'M SORRY, BUT THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS.

The slightly shimmering transparent figure of a man stood resolute with his arms crossed. "Yeah, right. I've been told how it works. Before you die, you get a flashback. I want my flashback."

Death was getting desperate.

I'VE BEEN TRYING TO EXPLAIN! IT'S YOUR LIFE THAT PASSES IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES BEFORE YOU DIE. YOU DON'T GET ANY OTHER FLASHBACK. NOW WILL YOU PLEASE COME WITH ME?

"I'm not going anywhere until I get my flashback!"

Death sighed. One of those days...

 

The world was a crazy place full of madmen.

Apt description.

At least it wasn't the Dungeon Dimensions this time.

The horror, the horror.

His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh and Commander of the City Watch

That's a mouthful.

He envied his younger self; the other Sam Vimes, who was nothing more than a simple Captain of the Night Watch and therefore unburdened with the dreadful prospect of social responsibilities.



Flashback

Oohoo, Death's always my favourite. Poor guy, no one makes his job easy.

Great stuff, Mar!

 

Isn't it? No wonder Vimes hates it...

Mine, too! Although I do find him hard to write, for some reason...

Thanks!

---

[b]III.

Far[/b]

Far above the meadows and forests, an eagle circled, searching the ground with its sharp eyes. Suddenly, a tiny white fleck caught its attention. The eagle descended, lower and lower, until the fleck became a white handkerchief, hanging from a branch of an old pine tree. The eagle gave a triumphant shriek, then shook itself as if some invisible weight had lifted from it, and flew away.

Many miles away, Granny Weatherwax, who had been lying stiffly on her bed, clutching a note that said "I [i]STILL[/i] ATE'NT DEAD", opened her eyes and murmured, "So that's where I dropped it!"


[b]Prisoners[/b]

Geoffrey Lace hadn't expected this. He had only been in Ankh-Morpork three hours, and had just started his performance on Sator Square, when he was seized by a couple of Palace guards and dragged away. Geoffrey mimed furiously in protest, but to no avail.

They threw him into the dungeon and hung him upside down from the wall by his legs. He noted that his two fellow prisoners were mimes as well. They gave him sympathetic, but mournful glances. On the wall there was a note in large letters: "LEARN THE WORDS."

Geoffrey silently cursed himself. He should've stayed in Pseudopolis.


[b]Peacekeepers[/b]

They key to keep peace was in getting the timing right. There was no point rushing towards trouble unless there was a good chance of no immediate danger. Once you made sure of that, you strolled in, with full authority, and arrested everyone who stayed behind (in other words, who was too drunk or too beaten up to get away).

Yeah, that was proper policing, Captain Vimes thought darkly, as he took a gulp from a bottle of Bearhugger's Whisky. Keeping your head down. He squinted at his hourglass, then shook his bell a little.

"Threeeeothaclock," he mumbled, "an' allswell."


[b]Uncharted[/b]

Anyone, who (for some inexplicable, and possibly very foolish, reason) ever wanted to visit Ãœberwald, would learn very quickly that most of the land was pretty much uncharted. It was no wonder?no one could blame the explorers and cartographers for not wanting to roam a country full of vampires and werewolves and plenty of other sorts of the undead.

Therefore, when it came to describing Ãœberwald, all available maps looked pretty much the same: apart from a couple of known and fairly accessible towns, the rest of Ãœberwald was summarised under M.M.B.U. (Miles and Miles of Bloody Ãœberwald).

It was a fair warning.


[b]Scape[/b]

Lord Vetinari surveyed the impossibly twisted shrubbery in the Palace gardens.

"This wasn't here two days ago," he commented.

"No, my lord," Drumknott agreed. "But if I may remind you, the gardens were landscaped by Bloody Stupid Johnson..."

"That does seem to explain things." The Patrician's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't normally mind, but it ate my dog."

Drumknott fidgeted nervously. "I'm sorry, my lord, he must have wandered over when I took him for walkies--"

He fell silent. Wuffles, the Patrician's terrier, suddenly appeared in the middle of the shrubbery and trotted towards them. He looked much younger.

"Ah," said Vetinari.

[hr]

[b]IV.

Smart[/b]

It was an exceptionally cold winter in Ankh-Morpork. The river froze solid from the Water Gate to the River Gate and the Opera House looked like an exceptionally big cake with cream on top.

Sergeant Detritus loved it.

The low temperatures did wonders to his silicon brain?his IQ went up by about a hundred points, and he didn't even need the special helmet with the built-in ventilator. He was [i]smart[/i].

Detritus grinned to himself as he walked down the Upper Broadway. After nightfall, when the temperatures went further down, he'd crack several differential equati

 

Far
GRANNY WEATHERWAX!!! "I still aten't dead". Oh, I love her!


Uncharted
...the rest of Ãœberwald was summarised under M.M.B.U. (Miles and Miles of Bloody Ãœberwald).

It was a fair warning.

Yeah, no kidding.

Smart
Detritus grinned to himself as he walked down the Upper Broadway. After nightfall, when the temperatures went further down, he'd crack several differential equations and maybe even n-dimensional topology.

Yes, that sounds like fun... ... ...



99
"Ninety-nine?! You single-handedly arrested ninety-nine hooligans and convinced them to come here willingly?"

That is rather impressive. Ninety-nine is the number to beat these days.

Chief
Now it became a considerable force in the city, whose purpose was to serve, protect, and seriously prod buttock.

*snort*

Too right it will seriously prod buttock!

Agents
Colon winced. "It's a dress, Nobby."

"Oi, I'm allowed to keep in touch with my fem'nine side!"

Naturally, naturally.

You know, this reminds me of old Archie from the Quidditch World Cup who insisted on wearing a flowery nightgown in public...

Shoe
Welcome to the Watch, Constable Shoe

I want a name as awesome as Constable Shoe.


These made my night, Mar. Definitely uplifting after a certain 19th-century Norwegian playwright I'm oh-so-fond of. Thanks for these!