quasi-normalcy:
Yet another reason I’m sad Terry Pratchett is dead is because I just know that the Discworld novel he would have written in response to recent developments in Britain and the world would be fucking scathing.
“A small but growing number of people believe we should magically summon a new world turtle and place Ankh-Morpork on its back in order to leave the Disc entirely, sir.”
“Intriguing.”
“It can’t be done, sir. Especially not the…” Drumknott consulted his paperwork. “…bit where, and I quote, Obviously we’ll leave all the foreigners behind. They seem divided on the precise definition of foreigner but it seems to include anyone who doesn’t look like them, and most people who do look like them but speak funny.”
“Ah, we’ve reached that part, where we define foreigner so we know who to give the boot to,” Vetinari sighed.
“It’s obviously not really plausible, sir, we’d lose a lot of good trade routes if there were no longer any external portions of the Disc attached to us, and having consulted with the alchemists there’s a strong sense among them that we would shortly run out of air to breathe should we leave the Disc’s protective weather systems.”
“Ah, but they can vote on it, you see,” Vetinari said. “They can campaign for it. And just knowing we ought to do it…”
He pulled a report across his desk, one in the crabbed, unmistakable schoolboy handwriting of Sir Samuel. “Crime is up, Drumknott.”
“I wasn’t aware we’d increased the Thieves’ Guild allotments this month, sir.”
“We haven’t. Nor the Assassins’ Guild. Unfortunately the crimes on the rise are of the go-back-where-you-came-from variety and there is, as of yet, no Bigots’ guild.”
“Do you think creating one would stop them, sir?”
“Not in this case, no,” Vetinari murmured. “I suspect we shall have to leave it up to human decency and the efforts of the Watch.”
Drumknott gave him the most horrified look he’d seen since the first time he suggested promoting Sir Samuel.
“Not really, sir?”
“Of course not. Good lord, Drumknott. I shall have some errands for you today, however, and you’d best fetch the Commander. And Mr. De Worde. Get De Worde here first, then bring in Sir Samuel when he’s had just enough time to get nervous in the waiting room. If Sir Samuel is at home, do bring her Ladyship along, otherwise I’ll see her at the dinner tomorrow night. Ah yes, and I believe I shall pay a visit to Mr. Von Lipwig tomorrow afternoon; please notify him of the impending surprise inspection of the mint.”
“But sir, what will you – “
“That will be all, Drumknott,” Vetinari said.
In the crevices of Vetinari’s mind, gears began to turn. Disorder, of course, was a natural aspect of any city, but unpleasantness of this sort led to much too much and the wrong kind of disorder. After all, at one time Ankh-Morpork had simply been a swampy plain; trace a family back far enough and everyone was an immigrant. The kind of thinking that led to one saying they were taking their city and leaving sooner or later led to metaphorical shoving matches over who looked a little too igneous to be allowed, or whose mother sent funny food with them to school, or who exactly was allowed to wear what kind of cloth on their head.
And the whole thing, as he knew from personal experience, could very well lead to unpleasantly large dragons.
Perhaps it was time to set some spinning tops in motion.
