Thief of Time

IN MY EXPERIENCE, SUSAN, WITHIN THEIR HEADS TOO MANY HUMANS SPEND A LOT OF TIME IN THE MIDDLE OF WARS THAT HAPPENED CENTURIES AGO.

“Very insightful, but what I meant was—”

YOU MUST NOT CONFUSE THE CONTENT WITH THE CONTAINER. Death sighed. YOU ARE MOSTLY HUMAN. YOU NEED A METAPHOR. AN OBJECT LESSON IS CLEARLY IN ORDER. COME.

He stood up and stalked into the dining room across the hall. There were still a few late lunchers frozen in their work, napkins tucked under their chins, in an atmosphere of happy carbohydrates.

Death walked up to a table that had been laid for dinner, and gripped a corner of the tablecloth.

TIME IS THE CLOTH, he said. THE CUTLERY AND PLATES ARE THE EVENTS THAT TAKE PLACE WITHIN TIME—

There was a drum roll. Susan glanced down. The Death of Rats was seated in front of a tiny drum kit.

OBSERVE.

Death pulled the cloth away. There was a rattle of cutlery and a moment of uncertainty regarding a vase of flowers, but almost all the tableware remained in place.

“I see,” said Susan.

THE TABLE REMAINS LAID, BUT THE CLOTH CAN NOW BE USED FOR ANOTHER MEAL.

“However, you knocked the salt over,” said Susan.

THE TECHNIQUE IS NOT PERFECT.

“And there are stains on the cloth from the previous meal, Grandfather.”

Death beamed. YES, he said. AS METAPHORS GO IT IS RATHER GOOD, DON'T YOU THINK?

“People would notice!”

REALLY? HUMANS ARE THE MOST UNOBSERVANT CREATURES IN THE UNIVERSE. OH, THERE ARE LOTS OF ANOMALIES, OF COURSE, A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF SPILLED SALT, BUT HISTORIANS EXPLAIN THEM AWAY. THEY ARE SO VERY USEFUL IN THAT RESPECT.

There was something called the Rules, Susan knew. They weren't written down, in the same way that mountains weren't written down. They were far more fundamental to the operation of the universe than mere mechanical things like gravity. The Auditors might hate the untidiness caused by the emergence of life, but the Rules did not allow them to do anything about it. The ascent of mankind must have been a boon to them. At last there was a species that could be persuaded to shoot itself in the foot.

“I don't know what you expect me to do about it,” she said.

EVERYTHING THAT YOU CAN, said Death. I, BY CUSTOM AND PRACTICE, HAVE OTHER DUTIES AT THIS TIME.

“Such as?”

IMPORTANT MATTERS.

“That you can't tell me about?”

THAT I DO NOT INTEND TO TELL YOU ABOUT. BUT THEY ARE IMPORTANT. IN ANY CASE, YOUR INSIGHT IS VALUABLE. YOU HAVE WAYS OF THINKING THAT WILL BE USEFUL. YOU CAN GO WHERE I CANNOT. I HAVE ONLY SEEN THE FUTURE. BUT YOU CAN CHANGE IT.

“Where is this clock being rebuilt?”

I CANNOT TELL. I HAVE DONE WELL TO DEDUCE WHAT I HAVE. THE ISSUE IS CLOUDED FROM ME.

“Why?”

BECAUSE THINGS HAVE BEEN HIDDEN. SOMEONE IS INVOLVED… WHO IS NOT SUBJECT TO ME. Death looked awkward.

“An immortal?”

SOMEONE SUBJECT TO… SOMEONE ELSE.

“You're going to have to be a lot clearer than that.”

SUSAN… YOU KNOW THAT I ADOPTED AND RAISED YOUR MOTHER, AND FOUND A SUITABLE HUSBAND FOR HER

“Yes, yes,” snapped Susan. “How could I forget? I look in my mirror every day.”

THIS IS… DIFFICULT FOR ME. THE TRUTH IS, I WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE TO INVOLVE MYSELF LIKE THAT. WHY LOOK SURPRISED? IS IT NOT WELL KNOWN THAT GODS DO THIS SORT OF THING ALL THE TIME?

“Gods, yes, but people like you—”

PEOPLE LIKE US ARE STILL LIKE PEOPLE…

Susan did an unusual thing, and listened. That's not an easy task for a teacher.

SUSAN, YOU WILL KNOW THAT WE WHO ARE… OUTSIDE HUMANITY.

“I'm not outside humanity,” said Susan sharply. “I just have a few… extra talents.”

I DID NOT MEAN YOU, OF COURSE. I MEANT THE OTHERS WHO ARE NOT HUMAN AND YET PART OF HUMANITY'S UNIVERSE—WAR AND DESTINY AND PESTILENCE AND THE REST OF US—WE ARE ENVISAGED AS HUMAN BY HUMANS AND THUS, IN VARIOUS FASHIONS, WE TAKE ON SOME ASPECTS OF HUMANITY. IT CAN BE NO OTHER WAY. EVEN THE VERY BODY SHAPE FORCES UPON OUR MINDS A CERTAIN WAY OF OBSERVING THE UNIVERSE. WE PICK UP HUMAN TRAITS… CURIOSITY, ANGER, RESTLESSNESS…

“This is basic stuff, Grandfather.”

YES. AND YOU KNOW, THEREFORE, THAT SOME OF US… TAKE AN INTEREST IN HUMANITY.

“I know. I am one of the results.”

YES. ER… AND SOME OF US TAKE AN INTEREST WHICH IS, ER, MORE…

“Interesting?”

…PERSONAL. AND YOU HAVE HEARD ME SPEAK OF THE… PERSONIFICATION OF TIME…

“You didn't tell me much. She lives in a palace of glass, you once said.” Susan felt a small, shameful and yet curiously satisfying sensation in seeing Death discomfited. He looked like someone who was being forced to reveal a skeleton in the closet.

YES. ER… SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH A HUMAN…

“How very romantick,” said Susan, inserting the k. Now she was being childishly perverse, she knew, but life as Death's granddaughter was not easy, and just occasionally she had the irresistible urge to annoy.

AH. A PUN, OR PLAY ON WORDS, said Death wearily, ALTHOUGH I SUSPECT YOU WERE MERELY TRYING TO BE TIRESOME.

“Well, that sort of thing used to happen a lot in antiquity, didn't it?” said Susan. “Poets were always falling in love with moonlight or hyacinths or something, and goddesses were forever—”

BUT THIS WAS REAL, said Death.

“How real do you mean?”

TIME HAD A SON.

“How could—”

TIME HAD A SON. SOMEONE MOSTLY MORTAL. SOMEONE LIKE YOU.

Tick

A member of the Clockmakers' Guild called on Jeremy once a week. It was nothing formal. In any case there was often some work for him to do, or some results to be collected, because whatever else you might say about him, the boy had a genius for clocks.

Informally, the visit was also a delicate way to make sure that the lad was taking his medicine and wasn't noticeably crazy.

The clockmakers were well aware that the intricate mechanisms of the human brain could occasionally throw a screw. The Guild's members tended to be meticulous people, always in pursuit of an inhuman accuracy, and this took its toll. It could cause problems. Springs were not the only things that got wound up. The Guild committee were, by and large, kind and understanding men. They were not, on the whole, men accustomed to guile.

Dr Hopkins, the Guild's secretary, was surprised when the door of Jeremy's shop was opened by a man