3
" The boldest of the three (thieves) moved suddenly, grabbed Angua and pulled her upright. " We walk out of here unharmed or the girl gets it, all right?" he snarled. Someone sniggered. " I hope you're not going to kill anyone," said Carrot." That's up to us!" " Sorry, was I talking to you?" said Carrot. " Don't worry, I'll be fine," said Angua. She looked around to make sure Cheery wasn't there and then sighed." Come on, gentlemen, let's get this over with." " Don't play with your food!" said a voice from the crowd.There were one or two giggles until Carrot turned in his seat, whereupon everyone was suddenly intensely interested in their drinks." It's OK," said Angua quietly.Aware that something was off kilter, but not quite sure what it was, the thieves edged back to the door. No one moved as they unbolted it and, still holding Angua, stepped out into the fog, shutting the door behind them. " Hadn't we better help," said a constable who was new to the Watch. " They don't deserve help," said Vimes. there was a clank of armor and then a long, deep growl, right outside in the street. And a scream and then another scream. and a third scream modulated with " NONONOnonononononoNO!...aarghaarghaargh!" Something heavy hit the door. "
4
" So now George has arrived. He is not nervous inthe least. As he gets out of his car, he feels an upsurge of energy, of eagerness for the play to begin. And he walks eagerly, with a springy step, along the gravel path past the Music Building toward the Department office. He is all actor now—an actor on his way up from the dressing room, hastening through the backstage world of props and lamps and stagehands to make his entrance. A veteran, calm and assured, he pauses for a well-measured moment in the doorway of the office and then, boldly, clearly, with the subtly modulated British intonation which his public demands of him, speaks his opening line: " Good morning!" And the three secretaries—each one of them a charming and accomplished actress in her own chosen style—recognize him instantly, without even a flicker of doubt, and reply " Good morning!" to him. (There is something religious here, like responses in church—a reaffirmation of faith in the basic American dogma that it is, always, a good morning. Good, despite the Russians and their rockets, and all the ills and worries of the flesh. For of course we know, don't we, that the Russians and the worries are not really real? They can be un-thought and made to vanish. And therefore the morning can be made to be good. Very well then, it is good.) "