Asoora muss ½ mistaykinly thot I woz upset @ getin nokd bak by thi Bros bcoz juss aftirwurds she made me a presint ov hir ring. I woz reely pleesd enyway but evin moar so when I reelised whot it actcherly is. Itz got a litil red stone in it & if u luke reely cloasly u can c sumfin moovin abowt in thare sumtimes & if u try 2 kript in2 it u can heer sumfin way way in thi distins goan gidibibibigidi (etc), very tiny & smol & far away & playntiv.
Har har har, I sez.
Nope, am prity hapy heer & so r thi uthirs I fink. Asoora & Madam Gadfyum tok a lot & do lotsa studyin & thers anuthir Madam Gadfyum whot livs in thi fass-towrs branes & is helpin Asoora tok wif thi kaos. Ergates makes me lern lotsa stuf 2, claymin my edyoocashin isn ovir yet & sheez probly rite I supoas Iv stil got fings 2 lern.
As 4 thi hoal reesin Asoora woz sent heer in thi 1st place, 2 delivir thi messidje whitch woz suppoasd 2 poot everyfin in moshin in jeneril & Do Sumfin abowt thi Encroachmint, wel that appears 2 ½ gon smoovly, aftir a iffy start.
Thi furst sine ov whot woz goan on woz a badun; thi amownt ov lite from thi sun dropt by a 8th, ovirnite. Evrybudy, evin thi cyantists, got in a bit ov a blu funk abowt this. Ther wer ryits in thi cassil & elswhare & I myself remembir finkin, O fuk, & Whot ½ we dun? & Whot is 2 bcum ov us? That sorta fing. But then from that day on thi lite startid 2 increes agen, very sloly but continyerly.
Thi sun shon down, thi moon did likewyse, thi planits continyood on ther alotid pafs, but it woz like thi big ole nasty Encroachmint had gon in2 revers, howevir unlikely that mite sound.
It woz sum time b4 thi astronimers spotid whot woz reely happinin & it woz a evin longir time b4 they convinsd themselvs it woz tru, but it woz & it is & now we no xactly whot thi bags ov thi Diaspora left us wif 2 get us outa trubil, & itz a feersum endjinn indeed.
Thi sun shines a teeny bit strongir evry day, & tho itil b a long time b4 nybody can c it wif thi naykid I, thi starz ½ moovd.
Thi End.
TRANSLATION
TRANSLATION — ONE — 4
Woke up. Got dressed. Had breakfast. Spoke with Ergates the ant who said it's just been work work work for you lately master Bascule, why don't you have a holiday? and I agreed and that was how we decided we ought to go to see Mr Zoliparia in the eyeball of the gargoyle Rosbrith.
I thought I'd better clear it with the relevant authorities first and hence avoid any trouble (like happened the last time) so I went to see mentor Scalopin.
Certainly young Bascule, he says, I do believe this is a day of relatively light duties for you. You may take it off. Have you made your matins calls?
O yes, I said, which wasn't strictly true, in fact which was pretty strictly untrue, truth be told, but I could always do them while we was travelling.
What's in that there box you're holding? he asks.
It's an ant, I say, waving the box at his face.
O this is your little friend, is it? I heard you had a pet. May I see him?
It's not a pet, it's a friend; you was right the first time, and it's not a him it's a she. Look.
O yes very pretty, he says, which is a pretty strange thing to say about an ant if you ask me but there you go.
Does it — does she have a name? he asks.
Yes, I says, she's called Ergates.
Ergates, he says, that's a nice name. What made you call her that?
Nothing, I says; it's her real name.
Ah, I see, he says, and gives me one of those looks.
And she can talk too, I tell him, though I don't expect you'll be able to hear her.
(Shh, Bascule! goes Ergates, and I go a bit red.)
Does she, does she now? mentor Scalopin says with one of them tolerant smiles. Very well then he says, patting me on the head (which I don't much like, frankly, but some times you just have to put up with these things. Anyway where were we? O yes, he was patting me on the head and saying), off you go (he says) but be back by supper.
Righty-ho, I says, all breezy like, never thinking.
Swing down past the kitchens to see mistress Blyke to flash my big soulful eyes and give her the soppy smile all shy and bashful and scrounge some provisions. She pats me on the noddle too — what is it with people?
Leave the monastery about half nine and lift to the top; the sun is shining in through the big windows across the great hall straight into my eyes. Damn sure it doesn't look like it's getting dimmer to me but everybody says it is so I suppose it must be.
Grab a ride on a wagon heading for the south-west hydrovator along the cliff road, hanging onto the back of the truck above the exhaust; bit steamy when the truck stops at junctions, but beats having to ride in the cab and talk to the driver and probably get patted on the bonce again like as not.
I like the cliff road because you can look over the edge and see right down to the floor of the hall and even see the big round bobbly bits what would be the handles of the drawers of the bureau if this was a proper size place instead of being BIG like it is. Mr Zoliparia says of course there weren't never no giants and I believe him but sometimes you can look out over the hall with its mountains like cupboards and mountains like seats and sofas set against the wall and the tables and poufs and so on scattered about the place and you think, When's them big bags coming back then? (Bags is my own coining and I'm quite proud of it — means Boys and GirlS. Ergates says it's called an acronym. Anyway, where was we? O yes, hanging onto the back of the truck rolling along the cliff road.)
Ergates the ant is in her box in the left breast pocket of my jacket-with-lots-of-pockets, all safely buttoned down. You all right, Ergates? I whisper as we bounce along the road.
I'm fine, she tells me. Where are we right now?
Um, we're on a truck, I sort of half-lie.
Are we hanging off the back of a vehicle? she asks.
(Blimey you get nothing past this ant.) What makes you think that, I asks, stalling.
Must you always maximise the danger of any given mode of transport? she asks, ignoring my stalling.
But I'm Bascule the Rascal, that's what they call me! I'm young and I'm only on my first life I tells her, laughing; Bascule the Teller nothing, that's me; no I or II or VII or any of that nonsense for yours truly; am good as immortal for all intents and purposes and if you can't act a bit daft when you never died not even once yet, when can you?
Well, Ergates says (and you can just tell she's trying to be patient), aside from the fact that it is folly to throw away even one life out of eight, and the equally salient point that in the present emergency it might be foolish to rely on the efficient functioning of the reincarnative process, there is my own safety to think about.
I thought you was indestructible to a fall from any height on account of your scale and mass-to-surface area given the relative size of air molecules? I says.
Something like that, she agrees. But if you landed the wrong way it is conceivable I might be crushed.
Ho, I'd like to know what's the right way to land from this high up, I says, leaning out over the drop with the wind in my hair and gazing down the way at the treetops of the forest-floor, what must be a good couple of hundred metres below.
You're missing the point, says Ergates the ant, sounding sniffy.
I thought for a moment. Tell you what, I says.
Yes? she says.
When we take the hydrovator up the cliff, this time we'll go on in the inside; how's that?