Going Postal полностью

‘It’s this clacks business,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘I’ve never trusted it. Poor Collabone. Decent young man in his way. A good man with a whelk. Seems to be in a spot of bother… ’

It was quite a large spot. Devious Collabone was opening and shutting his mouth on the other side of the glass like a stranded fish.

In front of him, Mustrum Ridcully reddened with anger, his tried and tested approach to most problems.

‘. . . sorry, sir, but this is what it says and you asked me to read it,’ Collabone protested. ‘It goes on and on, sir—’

‘And that’s what the clacks people gave you?’ the Archchancellor demanded. ‘Are you sure? ’

‘Yes, sir. They did look at me in a funny way, sir, but this is definitely it. Why should I make anything up, Archchancellor? I spend most of my time in a tank, sir. A boring, boring, lonely tank, sir.’

‘Not one more word!’ screamed Greenyham. ‘I forbid it!’ Beside him, Mr Nutmeg had sprayed his drink across several dripping guests.

‘Excuse me? You forbid , sir?’ said Ridcully, turning on Greenyham in sudden fury. ‘Sir, I am the Master of this college! I will not, sir, be told what to do in my own university! If there is anything to be forbidden here, sir, I will do the forbidding! Thank you! Go ahead, Mr Collabone!’

‘Er, er, er… ’ Collabone panted, longing for death.

‘I said carry on, man!’

‘Er, er… yes… “There was no safety. There was no pride. All there was, was money. Everything became money, and money became everything. Money treated us as if we were things, and we died— ”‘

‘Is there no law in this place? That is outright slander!’ shouted Stowley. ‘It’s a trick of some sort!’

‘By whom, sir?’ roared Ridcully. ‘Do you mean to suggest that Mr Collabone, a young wizard of great integrity, who I may say is doing wonderful work with snakes—’

‘—shellfish—’ murmured Ponder Stibbons.

‘—shellfish, is playing some kind of joke ? How dare you, sir! Continue, Mr Collabone!’

‘I, I, I—’

‘That is an order , Dr Collabone!’*

* Archchancellor Ridcully was a great believer in retaliation by promotion. You couldn’t have civilians criticizing one of his wizards. That was his job.

‘Er… “Blood oils the machinery of the Grand Trunk as willing, loyal people pay with their lives for the Board’s culpable stupidity— ” ’

The hubbub rose again. Moist saw Lord Vetinari’s gaze traverse the room. He didn’t duck in time. The Patrician’s stare passed right through him, carrying away who knew what. An eyebrow rose in interrogation. Moist looked away, and sought out Gilt.

He wasn’t there.

In the omniscope Mr Collabone’s nose now glowed like a beacon. He struggled, dropping pages, losing his place, but pressing on with the dogged, dull determination of a man who could spend all day

watching one oyster.

‘—nothing less than an attempt to blacken our good names in front of the whole city!’ Stowley was protesting.

‘ “—unaware of the toll that is being taken. What can we say of the men who caused this, who sat in comfort round their table and killed us by numbers? This —” ’

‘I will sue the University! I will sue the University!’ screamed Greenyham. He picked up a chair and hurled it at the omniscope. Halfway to the glass it turned into a small flock of doves, which panicked and soared up to the roof.

‘Oh, please sue the University!’ Ridcully bellowed. ‘We’ve got a pond full of people who tried to sue the University—’

‘Silence,’ said Vetinari.

It wasn’t a very loud word, but it had an effect rather like that of a drop of black ink in a glass of clear water. The word spread out in coils and tendrils, getting everywhere. It strangled the noise.

Of course, there is always someone not paying attention. ‘And furthermore,’ Stowley went on, oblivious of the hush unfolding in his own little world of righteous indignation, ‘it’s plain that—’

‘I will have silence,’ Vetinari stated.

Stowley stopped, looked around and deflated. Silence ruled.

‘Very good,’ said Vetinari quietly. He nodded at Commander Vimes of the Watch, who whispered to another watchman, who pushed his way though the crowd and towards the door.

Vetinari turned to Ridcully. ‘Archchancellor, I would be grateful if you would instruct your student to continue, please?’ he said in the same calm tone.

‘Certainly! Off you go, Professor Collabone. In your own time.’