‘Just a big sleep,’ said Lu-Tze.
‘Just a big sleep,’ said Ronnie Soak. ‘As for the others … War? If war’s so bad, why do people keep doing it?’
‘Practically a hobby,’ said Lu-Tze. He began to roll himself a cigarette.
‘Practically a hobby,’ said Ronnie Soak. ‘As for Famine and Pestilence, well …’
‘Enough said,’ said Lu-Tze sympathetically.
‘Exactly. I mean, Famine’s a fearful thing, obviously—’
‘—in an agricultural community, but you’ve got to move with the times,’ said Lu-Tze, putting the roll-up in his mouth.
‘That’s it,’ said Ronnie. ‘You’ve got to move with the times. I mean, does your average city person fear famine?’
‘No, he thinks food grows in shops,’ said Lu-Tze. He was beginning to enjoy this. He had 800 years’ worth of experience in steering the thoughts of his superiors, and most of them had been intelligent. He decided to strike out a little.
‘Fire, now: city folk really fear fire,’ he said. ‘That’s new. Your primitive villager, he reckoned fire was a good thing, didn’t he? Kept the wolves away. If it burned down his hut, well, logs and turf are cheap enough. But now he lives in a street of crowded wooden houses and everyone’s cooking in their rooms, well—’
Ronnie glared.
‘Fire? Fire? Just a demi-god! Some little tea-leaf pinches the flame from the gods and suddenly he’s immortal? You call that training and experience?’ A spark leapt from Ronnie’s fingers and ignited the end of Lu-Tze’s cigarette. ‘And as for gods—’
‘Johnny-come-latelys, the pack of ’em,’ said Lu-Tze quickly.
‘Right! People started worshipping them because they were afraid of me,’ said Ronnie. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No, really?’ said Lu-Tze innocently.
But now Ronnie sagged. ‘That was then, of course,’ he said. ‘It’s different now. I’m not what I used to be.’
‘No, no, obviously not, no,’ said Lu-Tze soothingly. ‘But it’s all a matter of how you look at it, am I correct? Now, supposing a man— that is to say a—’
‘Anthropomorphic personification,’ said Ronnie Soak. ‘But I’ve always preferred the term “avatar”.’
Lu-Tze’s brow wrinkled. ‘You fly around a lot?’ he said.
‘That would be aviator.’
‘Sorry. Well, supposing an avatar, thank you, who was perhaps a bit ahead of his time thousands of years ago, well, supposing he took a good look around now, he might just find the world is ready for him again.’
Lu-Tze waited. ‘My abbot, now, he reckons you are the bees’ knees,’ he said, for a little reinforcement.
‘Does he?’ said Ronnie Soak suspiciously.
‘Bee’s knees, cat’s pyjamas and dog’s … elbows,’ Lu-Tze finished. ‘He’s written scrolls and scrolls about you. Says you are hugely important in understanding how the universe works.’
‘Yeah, but … he’s just one man,’ said Ronnie Soak, with all the sullen reluctance of someone cuddling a lifetime’s huge snit like a favourite soft toy.
‘Technically, yes,’ said Lu-Tze. ‘But he’s an abbot. And brainy? He thinks such big thoughts he needs a second lifetime just to finish them off! Let a lot of peasants fear famine, I say, but someone like you should aim for quality. And you look at the cities, now. Back in the old days there were just heaps of mud bricks with names like Ur and Uh and Ugg. These days there’s millions of people living in cities. Very, very complicated cities. Just you think about what they really, really fear. And fear … Well, fear is belief. Hmm?’
There was another long pause.
‘Well, all right, but …’ Ronnie began.
‘Of course, they won’t be living in ’em very long, because by the time the grey people have finished taking them to pieces to see how they work there won’t be any belief left.’
‘My customers do depend on me …’ Ronnie Soak mumbled.
‘What customers? That’s Soak speaking,’ said Lu-Tze. ‘That’s not the voice of Kaos.’
‘Hah!’ said Kaos bitterly. ‘You haven’t told me yet how you worked that one out.’
Because I’ve got more than three brain cells and you’re vain and you painted your actual name back to front on your cart whether you knew it or not and a dark window is a mirror and K and S are still recognizable in a reflection even when they’re back to front, thought Lu-Tze. But that wasn’t a good way forward.
‘It was just obvious,’ he said. ‘You sort of shine through. It’s like putting a sheet over an elephant. You might not be able to see it, but you’re sure the elephant’s still there.’
Kaos looked wretched. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time—’
‘Oh? And I thought you said you were Number One?’ said Lu-Tze, deciding on a new approach. ‘Sorry! Still, I suppose it’s not your fault you’ve lost a few skills over the centuries, what with one thing and—’
‘Lost skills?’ snapped Kaos, waving a finger under the sweeper’s nose. ‘I could certainly take you to the cleaner’s, you little maggot!’
‘What with? A dangerous yoghurt?’ said Lu-Tze, climbing off the cart.
Kaos leapt down after him. ‘Where do you get off, talking to me like that?’ he demanded.
Lu-Tze glanced up. ‘Corner of Merchant and Broad Way,’ he said. ‘So what?’
Kaos roared. He tore off his striped apron and his white cap. He seemed to grow in size. Darkness evaporated off him like smoke.
Lu-Tze folded his hands and grinned. ‘Remember Rule One,’ he said.
‘Rules? Rules? I’m Kaos!’
‘Who was the first?’ said Lu-Tze.
‘Yes!’
‘Creator and Destroyer?’
‘Damn right!’
‘Apparently complicated, apparently patternless behaviour that nevertheless has a simple, deterministic explanation and is a key to new levels of understanding of the multidimensional universe?’
‘You’d better believe it— What?’
‘Got to move with the times, mister, got to keep up!’ shouted Lu-Tze excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. ‘You’re what people think you are! And they’ve changed you! I hope you’re good at sums!’
‘You can’t tell me what to be!’ Kaos roared. ‘I’m Kaos!’
‘You don’t think so? Well, your big comeback ain’t gonna happen now that the Auditors have taken over! The rules, mister! That’s what they are! They’re the cold dead rules!’
Silver lightning flickered in the walking cloud that had once been Ronnie. Then cloud, cart and horse vanished.
‘Well, could have been worse, I suppose,’ said Lu-Tze to himself. ‘Not a very bright lad, really. Possibly a bit too old-fashioned.’
He turned round and found a crowd of Auditors watching him. There were dozens of them.
He sighed and grinned his sheepish little grin. He’d had just about enough for one day.
‘Well, I expect you have heard of Rule One, right?’ he said.
That seemed to give them pause. One said, ‘We know millions of rules, human.’
‘Billions. Trillions,’ said another.
‘Well, you can’t attack me,’ said Lu-Tze, ‘’cos of Rule One.’
The nearest Auditors went into a huddle.
‘It must involve gravitation.’
‘No, quantum effects. Obviously.’
‘Logically there cannot be a Rule One because at that point there would be no concept of plurality.’
‘But if there is not a Rule One, can there be any other rules? If there is no Rule One, where is Rule Two?’