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Over the millennia the fashions had fluctuated. Later pyramids were smooth and sharp, or flattened and tiled with mica. Even the steepest of them, Teppic mused, wouldnt rate more than 1. O on any edificeers scale, although some of the stelae and temples, which flocked around the base of the pyramids like tugboats around the dreadnoughts of eternity, could be worthy of attention.
Dreadnoughts of eternity, he thought, sailing ponderously through the mists of Time with every passenger travelling first class . . .
A few stars had been let out early. Teppic looked up at them. Perhaps, he thought, there is life somewhere else. On the stars, maybe. If its true that there are billions of universes stacked alongside one another, the thickness of a thought apart, then there must be people elsewhere.
But wherever they are, no matter how mightily they try, no matter how magnificent the effort, they surely cant manage to be as godawfully stupid as us. I mean, we work at it. We were given a spark of it to start with, but over hundreds of thousands of years weve really improved on it.
He turned to Dios, feeling that he ought to repair a little bit of the damage.
You can feel the age radiating off them, cant you, he said conversationally.
Pardon, sire?
The pyramids, Dios. Theyre so old.
Dios glanced vaguely across the river. Are they? he said. Yes, I suppose they are.
Will you get one? said Teppic.
A pyramid? said Dios. Sire, I have one already. It pleased one of your forebears to make provision for me.
That must have been a great honour, said Teppic. Dios nodded graciously. The staterooms of forever were usually reserved for royalty.
It is, of course, very small. Very plain. But it will suffice for my simple needs.
Will it? said Teppic, yawning. Thats nice. And now, if you dont mind, I think Ill turn in. Its been a long day.
Dios bowed as though he was hinged in the middle. Teppic had noticed that Dios had at least fifty finely-tuned ways of bowing, each one conveying subtle shades of meaning. This one looked like No. 3, I Am Your Humble Servant.
And a very good day it was too, if I may say so, sire. Teppic was lost for words. You thought so? he said.
The cloud effects at dawn were particularly effective.
They were? Oh. Do I have to do anything about the sunset?
Your majesty is pleased to joke, said Dios. Sunsets happen by themselves, sire. Haha.
Haha, echoed Teppic.
Dios cracked his knuckles. The trick is in the sunrise, he said.
The crumbling scrolls of Knot said that the great orange sun was eaten every evening by the sky goddess, What, who saved one pip in time to grow a fresh sun for next morning. And Dios knew that this was so.
The Book of Staying in The Pit said that the sun was the Eye of Yay, toiling across the sky each day in His endless search for his toenails. [14] And Dios knew that this was so.
The secret rituals of the Smoking Mirror held that the sun was in fact a round hole in the spinning blue soap bubble of the goddess Nesh, opening into the fiery real world beyond, and the stars were the holes that the rain comes through. And Dios knew that this, also, was so.
Folk myth said the sun was a ball of fire which circled the world every day, and that the world itself was carried through the everlasting void on the back of an enormous turtle. And Dios also knew that this was so, although it gave him a bit of trouble.
And Dios knew that Net was the Supreme God, and that Fon was the Supreme God, and so were Hast, Set, Bin, Sot, Ic, Dhek, and Ptooie; that Herpetine Triskeles alone ruled the world of the dead, and so did Syncope, and Silur the Catfish-Headed God, and Orexis-Nupt.
Dios was maximum high priest to a national religion that had fermented and accreted and bubbled for more than seven thousand years and never threw a god away in case it turned out to be useful. He knew that a great many mutually-contradictory things were all true. If they were not, then ritual and belief were as nothing, and if they were nothing, then the world did not exist. As a result of this sort of thinking, the priests of the Djel could give mind room to a collection of ideas that would make even a quantum mechanic give in and hand back his toolbox.
Dioss staff knocked echoes from the stones as he limped along in the darkness down little-frequented passages until he emerged on a small jetty. Untying the boat there, the high priest climbed in with difficulty, unshipped the oars and pushed himself out into the turbid waters of the dark Djel.
His hands and feet felt too cold. Foolish, foolish. He should have done this before.
The boat jerked slowly into midstream as full night rolled over the valley. On the far bank, in response to the ancient laws, the pyramids started to light the sky.
Lights also burned late in the house of Ptaclusp Associates, Necropolitan Builders to the Dynasties. The father and his twin Sons were hunched over the huge wax designing tray, arguing.
Its not as if they ever pay, said Ptaclusp IIa. I mean its not just a case of not being able to, they dont seem to have grasped the idea. At least dynasties like Tsort pay up within a hundred years or so. Why didnt you-
Weve built pyramids along the Djel for the last three thousand years, said his father stiffly, and we havent lost by it, have we? No, we havent. Because the other kingdoms look to the Djel, they say theres a family that really knows its pyramids, connysewers, they say well have what theyre having, if you please, with knobs on. Anyway, theyre real royalty, he added, not like some of the ones you get these days - here today, gone next millennium. Theyre half gods, too. You dont expect real royalty to pay its way. Thats one of the signs of real royalty, not having any money.
You dont get more royal than them, then. Youd need a new word, said IIa. Were nearly royal in that case.
You dont understand business, my son. You think its all book-keeping. Well, it isnt.
Its a question of mass. And the power to weight ratio. They both glared at Ptaclusp IIb, who was sitting staring at the sketches. He was turning his stylus over and over in his hands, which were trembling with barely-suppressed excitement.
Well have to use granite for the lower slopes, he said, talking to himself, the limestone wouldnt take it. Not with all the power flows. Which will be, whooeee, theyll be big. I mean were not talking razor blades here. This thing could put an edge on a rolling pin.
Ptaclusp rolled his eyes. He was only one generation into a dynasty and already it was trouble. One son a born accountant, the other in love with this new-fangled cosmic engineering. There hadnt been any such thing when he was a lad, there was just architecture. You drew the plans, and then got in ten thousand lads on time-and-a-half and double bubble at weekends. They just had to pile the stuff up. You didnt have to be cosmic about it.
Descendants! The gods had seen fit to give him one son who charged you for the amount of breath expended in saying Good morning, and another one who worshipped geometry and stayed up all night designing aqueducts. You scrimped and saved to send them to the best schools, and then they went and paid you back by getting educated.
What are you talking about? he snapped.
The discharge alone . . . He pulled his abacus towards him and rattled the pottery beads along the wires. Lets say were talking twice the height of the Executive model, which gives us a mass of. . . plus additional coded dimensions of occult significance as per spec. . . we couldnt do this sort of thing even a hundred years ago, you realise, not with the primitive techniques we had then. . . His finger became a blur.
IIa gave a snort and grabbed his own abacus.
Limestone at two talents the ton. . . he said. Wear and tear on tools . . . masonry charges . . . demurrage . . . breakages . . . oh dear, oh dear . . . on-cost . . . black marble at replacement prices . . .
Ptaclusp sighed. Two abaci rattling in tandem the whole day long, one changing the shape of the world and the other one deploring the cost. Whatever happened to the two bits of woo
d and a plumbline?
The last beads clicked against the stops.
Itd be a whole quantum leap in pyramidology, said IIb, sitting back with a messianic grin on his face.
Itd be a whole kwa- IIa began.
Quantum, said IIb, savouring the word.
Itd be a whole quantum leap in bankruptcy, said IIa.
Theyd have to invent a new word for that too.
Itd be worth it as a loss leader, said IIb.
Sure enough. When it comes to making a loss, well be in the lead, said IIa sourly.
Itd practically glow! In millennia to come people will look at it and say “That Ptaclusp, he knew his pyramids all right”.
Theyll call it Ptaclusps Folly, you mean!
By now the brothers were both standing up, their noses a few inches apart.
The trouble with you, sibling, is that you know the cost of everything and the value of nothing!
The trouble with you is - is - is that you dont!
Mankind must strive ever upwards!
Yes, on a sound financial footing, by Khuft!
The search for knowledge-
The search for probity-
Ptaclusp left them to it and stood staring out at the yard, where, under the glow of torches, the staff were doing a feverish stocktaking.
Itd been a small business when father passed it on to him - just a yard full of blocks and various sphinxes, needles, steles and other stock items, and a thick stack of unpaid bills, most of them addressed to the palace and respectfully pointing out that our esteemed account presented nine hundred years ago appeared to have been overlooked and prompt settlement would oblige. But it had been fun in those days. There was just him, five thousand labourers, and Mrs Ptaclusp doing the books.
You had to do pyramids, dad said. All the profit was in mastabas, small family tombs, memorial needles and general jobbing necropoli, but if you didnt do pyramids, you didnt do anything. The meanest garlic farmer, looking for something neat and long lasting with maybe some green marble chippings but within a budget, wouldnt go to a man without a pyramid to his name.
So hed done pyramids, and theyd been good ones, not like some you saw these days, with the wrong number of sides and walls you could put your foot through. And yes, somehow theyd gone from strength to strength.
To build the biggest pyramid ever. .
In three months.
With terrible penalties if it wasnt done on time. Dios hadnt specified how terrible, but Ptaclusp knew his man and they probably involved crocodiles. Theyd be pretty terrible, all right. . .
He stared at the flickering light on the long avenues of statues, including the one of bloody Hat the Vulture-Headed God of Unexpected Guests, bought on the offchance years ago and turned down by the client owing to not being up to snuff in the beak department and unshiftable ever since even at a discount.
The biggest pyramid ever . . .
And after youd knocked your pipes out seeing to it that the nobility had their tickets to eternity, were you allowed to turn your expertise homeward, i. e. , a bijou pyramidette for self and Mrs Ptaclusp, to ensure safe delivery into the Netherworld? Of course not. Even dad had only been allowed to have a mastaba, although it was one of the best on the river, he had to admit, that red-veined marble had been ordered all the way from Howonderland, a lot of people had asked for the same, it had been good for business, thats how dad would have liked it. . .
The biggest pyramid ever . . .
And theyd never remember who was under it.
It didnt matter if they called it Ptaclusps Folly or Ptaclusps Glory. Theyd call it Ptaclusps.