According to Post Office legend, Mr Rumbelow had replied: ‘Firstly, sir, I reasoned that if I destroyed the universe all in one go no one would know; secondly, when I walloped the thing the first time the wizards ran away, so I surmised that unless they had another universe to run to they weren’t really certain; and lastly, sir, the bloody thing was getting on my nerves. Never could stand machinery, sir.’
‘And that was the end of it, sir,’ said Mr Groat, as they left the room. ‘Actually, I heard where the wizards were saying that the universe was destroyed all in one go but instantly came back all in one go. They said they could tell by lookin’, sir. So that was okay and it let old Rumbelow off’f the hook, on account it’s hard to discipline a man under Post Office Regulations for destroying the universe all in one go. Mind you - hah - there’ve been postmasters that would have given it a try. But it knocked the stuffing out of us, sir. It was all downhill after that. The men had lost heart. It broke us, to tell you the truth.’
‘Look,’ said Moist, ‘the letters we’ve just given the lads, they’re not from some other dimension or—’
‘Don’t worry, I checked ‘em last night,’ said Groat. ‘They’re just old. Mostly you can tell by the stamp. I’m good at telling which ones are prop’ly ours, sir. Had years to learn. It’s a skill, sir.’
‘Could you teach other people?’
‘I dare say, yes,’ said Groat.
‘Mr Groat, the letters have talked to me,’ Moist burst out.
To his surprise, the old man grabbed his hand and shook it. ‘Well done, sir!’ he said, tears rising in his eyes. ‘I said it’s a skill, didn’t I? Listen to the whispers, that’s half the trick! They’re alive, sir,
The tears coursed down Groat’s cheeks. It’s madness, of course, thought Moist. But now I’ve got it, too.
‘Ah, I can see it in your eyes, sir, yes I can!’ said Groat, grinning wetly. ‘The Post Office has found you! It’s enfolded you, sir, yes it has. You’ll never leave it, sir. There’s families that’ve worked here for hundreds and hundreds of years, sir. Once the postal service puts its stamp on you, sir, there’s no turning back… ’
Moist disentangled his hand as tactfully as he could.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Do tell me about stamps.’
Thump.
Moist looked down at the piece of paper. Smudgy red letters, chipped and worn, spelled out: ‘Ankh-Morpork Post Office.’
‘That’s right, sir,’ said Groat, waving the heavy metal and wood stamper in the air. ‘I bang the stamp on the ink pad here, then bang it, sir,
‘And this is worth a penny?’ said Moist. ‘Good grief, man, a kid could forge this with half a potato!’
‘That was always a bit of a problem, sir, yes,’ said Groat.
‘Why does a postman have to stamp the letters, anyway?’ said Moist. ‘Why don’t we just sell people a stamp?’
‘But they’d pay a penny and then go on stamping for ever, sir,’ said Groat, reasonably.
In the machinery of the universe, the wheels of inevitability clicked into position…
‘Well, then,’ said Moist, staring thoughtfully at the paper, ‘how about… how about a stamp you can use only once?’
‘You mean, like, not much ink?’ said Groat. His brow wrinkled, causing his toupee to slip sideways.
‘I mean… if you stamped the stamper lots of times on paper, then cut out all the stampings… ’ Moist stared at an inner vision, if only to avoid the sight of the toupee slowly crawling back. ‘The rate for delivery anywhere in the city is a penny, isn’t it?’
‘Except for the Shades, sir. That’s five pence ‘cos of the armed guard,’ said Groat.
‘Right. O-kay. I think I might have something here… ’ Moist looked up at Mr Pump, who was smouldering in the corner of the office. ‘Mr Pump, would you be so good as to go along to the Goat and Spirit Level over at Hen-and-Chickens and ask the publican for “Mr Robinson’s box”, please? He may want a dollar. And while you’re over there, there’s a printing shop over that way, Teemer and Spools. Leave a message to say that the Postmaster General wishes to discuss a very large order.’
‘Teemer and Spools? They’re very expensive, sir,’ said Groat. ‘They do all the posh printing for the banks.’
‘They’re the very devil to forge, I know that,’ said Moist. ‘Or so I’ve been told,’ he added quickly. ‘Watermarks, special weaves in the paper, all kinds of tricks. Ahem. So… a penny stamping, and a fivepenny stamping… what about post to the other cities?’
‘Five pence to Sto Lat,’ said Groat. ‘Ten or fifteen to the others. Hah, three dollars for all the way to Genua. We used to have to write those out.’
‘We’ll need a one-dollar stamp, then.’ Moist started to scribble on the scrap of paper.
‘A dollar stamp! Who’d buy one of those?’ said Groat.
