Moving pictures

'The wizards aren't going to like it,' said one of them, a thin, hesitant man called Lully. 'They're going to call it magic. You know they get really pissed if they think you're doing magic and you're not a wizard.'

'There isn't any magic involved,' said Thomas Silverfish, the president of the Guild.

'There's the imps.'

'That's not magic. That's just ordinary occult.'

'Well, there's the salamanders.'

'Perfectly normal natural history. Nothing wrong with that.'

'Well, all right. But they'll call it magic. You know what they're like.'

The alchemists nodded gloomily.

'They're reactionaries,' said Sendivoge, the Guild secretary. 'Bloated thaumocrats. And the other Guilds, too. What do they know about the march of progress? What do they care? They could have been doing something like this for years, but did they? Not them! Just think how we can make people's lives so much ... well, better. The possibilities are immense.'

'Educational,' said Silverfish.

'Historical,' said Lully.

'And of course there's entertainment,' said Peavie, the Guild treasurer. He was a small, nervous man. Most alchemists were nervous, in any case; it came from not knowing what the crucible of bubbling stuff they were experimenting with was going to do next.

'Well, yes. Obviously some entertainment,' said Silverfish.

'Some of the great historical dramas,' said Peavie. 'Just picture the scene! You get some actors together, they act it just once, and people all over the Disc will be able to see it as many times as they like! A great saving in wages, by the way,' he added.

'But tastefully done,' said Silverfish. 'We have a great responsibility to see that nothing is done which is in any way ... ' his voice trailed off, ' ... you know ... coarse.'

'They'll stop us,' said Lully darkly. 'I know those wizards.'

'I've been giving that some thought,' said Silverfish. 'The light's too bad here anyway. We agreed. We need clear skies. And we need to be a long way away. I think I know just the place.'

'You know, I can't believe we're doing this,' said Peavie. 'A month ago it was just a mad idea. And now it's all worked! It's just like magic! Only not magical, if you see what I mean,' he added quickly.

'Not just illusion, but real illusion,' said Lully.

'I don't know if anyone's thought about this,' said Peavie, 'but this could make us a bit of money. Um?'

'But that isn't important,' said Silverfish.

'No. No, of course not,' muttered Peavie. He glanced at the others.

'Shall we watch it again?' he said, shyly. 'I don't mind turning the handle. And, and ... well, I know I haven't contributed very much to this project, but I did come up with this, er, this stuff.'

He pulled a very large bag from the pocket of his robe and dropped it on the table. It fell over, and a few fluffy, white mis-shapen balls rolled out.

The alchemists stared at it.

'What is it?' said Lully.

'Well,' said Peavie, uncomfortably, 'what you do is, you take some corn, and you put it in, say, a Number 3 crucible, with some cooking oil, you see, and then you put a plate or something on top of it, and when you heat it up it goes bang, I mean, not seriously bang, and when it's stopped banging you take the plate off