Terry Pratchett - The Globe

'Did I miss that bit?' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, leafing hurriedly through the pages.

'That's in another play, Runes,' said Ridcully. 'Do try to keep up. Well, Rincewind? Let's assume, shall we, that we're going along with your plan? We have to make sure this man exists here and writes this play in this world, do we? Why?'

'Can I leave that to Stage Two, sir? It will become obvious, I hope, but you never know if there are elves listening.'

The wizards were automatically impressed by the idea that this was a two-stage plan, but Ridcully persisted: 'I put it to you, Rincewind, that this is exactly the kind of play elves would want him to write.'

'Yes, sir. That's because they're stupid. Not like you, sir.'

'We have Hex's computational power,' said Ponder. 'It should be possible to make sure he turns up in this world, I think.'

'Um ... yes,' said Rincewind. 'But first we have to make the world the kind he can turn up in. This may take a bit of work. Some travelling may be involved. Back in time ... for thousands of years…'

Firelight glowed off the cave walls. The wizards sat on one side of the fire, on the big rock ledge overlooking the scrubland. The Stinky Cave People sat on the other.

The cave people watched the wizards with something like awe, but only because they'd never seen people eat like that. It was Ridcully who'd suggested that people bearing huge amounts of food are welcome practically anywhere, but the other wizards considered that this was just an excuse for him to make a crude but serviceable bow and go and happily slaughter quite a lot of wildlife.

The wildlife was mostly leftovers now. The wizards moaned about the lack of onions, salt, pepper, garlic and, in Rincewind's case, potatoes, but there was certainly no lack of meat.

They'd spent two weeks doing this, in caves across the continent. They were getting used to it, although bowel movements were becoming a problem.

Rincewind, however, was sitting some way from the fire with Burnt Stick Man.

Being good at languages was, here, not such an important skill as simply making yourself understood. But Burnt Stick Man was a quick study, and Rincewind already had several weeks of practice. While the dialogue took place in inflections and emphasis based upon the syllable

'grunt' aided by gestures, the translation went like this:

'Okay, so you've mastered the idea of charcoal, but may I draw your attention to these pigments I have here? They're Whiiite, very simple, Redddd, like blood, and Yell-low, like, er, egg yolks.

Cluck cluck aaargh cackle? And this fourth colour is some sickly brown ochre I found which we'll call for the moment "baby poo".'

'With you so far, Pointy Hat Man.' This was conveyed by an enthusiastic nod.

'So here's the big tip. Not many people know this,' said Rincewind. 'You take your animals, right, which you've already been trying to draw, well done, but you what we call "colour" them. You have to work hard on this bit. A chewed piece of wood will be your friend here. See how by a careful mixture of tints I'm giving it a certain, oh, je ne sais quoi…'

'Hey, that looks like a real buffalo! Scary stuff!' 'It gets better. May I have the charcoal? Thank you. What's this?' Rincewind carefully drew another figure. 'Man with big [expressive gesture]?'

said Burnt Stick Man. 'What? Oh. Sorry, I got that wrong ... I mean this ...' 'Man with spear! Hey, he's throwing it at the buffalo!' Rincewind smiled. There had been a few false starts over the last couple of weeks, but Burnt Stick Man had exactly the right sort of mind. He was impressively simple, and people with truly simple minds were very rare.

'I knew there was something intelligent about you the moment I saw you,' he lied. 'Maybe it was the way your brow ridge came around the corner only two seconds before the rest of you did.'

Burnt Stick Man beamed. Rincewind went on: 'And the question you've got to ask yourself now is: how real is this picture, really? And where was the picture before I drew it? What is going to happen now it's on the wall?' The wizards watched from the circle of firelight. 'Why's the man poking at the picture?' said the Dean. 'I think he's learnin' about the power of symbols,' said Ridcully. 'Hey, if anyone doesn't want any more ribs I'll finish 'em.'

'No barbecue sauce,' moaned the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'How long before there's an agricultural revolution?'

'Could be a hundred thousand years, sir,' said Ponder. 'Perhaps a lot more.' The Lecturer in Recent Runes groaned and put his head in his hands.

Rincewind came and sat down. The rest of Burnt Stick Man's clan, greasy to the eyebrows with free food, watched him cautiously.

'That seemed to go well,' he said. 'He's definitely working out the link between pictures in his head and real life. Any potatoes yet?'

'Not for thousands of years,' groaned the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

'Damn. I mean, here's meat. There should be potatoes. How hard is that for a world to understand? Vegetables are less complicated than meat!' He sighed, and then stared.

Burnt Stick Man, who had been staring motionless at the drawing for a while, ambled to another rock wall and picked up a spear. He squinted at the buffalo drawing, which did indeed seem to move as the firelight flickered, paused, and then hurled the spear at it and ducked behind a rock.

'Gentlemen, we've found our genius and we're on our way,' said Rincewind. 'Ponder, can Hex move some buffaloes to right outside this cave at dawn tomorrow?'

'That shouldn't be hard, yes.'

'Good.' Rincewind looked around. 'And there's quite a few tall trees here, too. Which is just as well.'

It was dawn, and the tree was full of wizards.

The ground below was full of buffalo. Hex had moved an entire herd, which was now more or less penned in amongst the rocks and trees.

And, on the rocky ledge in front of the bewildered, panicking creatures, Burnt Stick Man and the other hunters stared down in disbelief.

But only for a moment. They had spears, after all. They got two of the creatures before the rest thundered away. And, afterwards, people were certainly showing Burnt Stick Man a bit of respect.

'All right, I think I see what you're getting at,' said Ridcully, as the wizards very carefully climbed down.

'Well, I don't,' said the Dean. 'You're teaching them basic magic. And that doesn't work here!'

'They think it does,' said Rincewind.

'But that was only because we helped them! What're they going to do tomorrow when he does another painting and no buffaloes turn up?'

'They'll think it's experimental error,' said Rincewind. 'Because it's so sensible, isn't it? You draw a magic picture, and the real thing turns up! It's so sensible that they'll take a lot of convincing that it doesn't work. Besides ... '

'Besides what?' said Ponder.

'Oh, I was thinking that if Burnt Stick Man is really sensible he'll keep an eye on the movements of the local animals and make sure he paints his pictures at the right time.'

Some more weeks went by. There were lots of men like Burnt Stick Man.

And even Red Hands Man ...

'... so,' said Rincewind, as he sat by the river, squeezing the clay, 'it's quite easy to make other things out of it than snakes.'

'Snakes are easy,' said Red Hands Man, stained with ochre to the armpits.

'And there's lots of snakes around here, is there?' said Rincewind. It looked like prime snake country.

'Lots of them.'

'Ever wondered why? You play around rolling snakes out of clay, and snakes turn up?'

'I'm making the snakes?' said Red Hands Man. 'How can that be? I was only doing it because of the enjoyable tactile sensations!'

'It's an intriguing thought, isn't it?' said Rincewind. 'But it's okay, I won't tell anyone else.'