'So he can walk in Time, can he?' he said slowly.
'That may be possible, yes.'
'Do you think we could persuade him to stroll back a few months and tell us not to build that bloody pyramid?'
'He can't communicate, dad.'
'Not much change there, then.' Ptaclusp sat down on the rubble, his head in his hands. It had come to this. One son normal and stupid, one flat as a shadow. And what sort of life could the poor flat kid have? He'd go through life being used to open locks, clean the ice off windscreens, and sleeping cheaply in trouser-presses in hotel bedrooms[24]. Being able to get under doors and read books without opening them would not be much of a compensation. IIa drifted sideways, a flat cut-out on the landscape.
'Can't we do anything?' he said. 'Roll him up neatly, or something?'
IIb shrugged. 'We could put something in the way. That might be a good idea. It would stop anything worse happening to him because it, er, wouldn't have time to happen in. I think.'
They pushed the bent statue of Hat the Vulture-Headed God into the flat one's path. After a minute or two his gentle sideways drift brought him up against it. There was a fat blue spark that melted part of the statue, but the movement stopped.
'Why the sparks?' said Ptaclusp.
'It's a bit like flarelight, I think.'
Ptaclusp hadn't got where he was today - no, he'd have to correct himself - hadn't got to where he had been last night without eventually seeing the advantages in the Unlikeliest situations.
'He'll save on clothing,' he said slowly. 'I mean, he can just paint it on.'
'I don't think you've quite got the idea, dad,' said IIb wearily. He sat down beside his father and stared across the river to the palace.
'Something going on over there,' said Ptaclusp. 'Do you think they've noticed the pyramid?'
'I shouldn't be surprised. It's moved around ninety degrees, after all.'
Ptaclusp looked over his shoulder, and nodded slowly.
'Funny, that,' he said. 'Bit of structural instability there.'
'Dad, it's a pyramid! We should have flared it! I told you! The forces involved, well, it's just too-'
A shadow fell across them. They looked around. They looked up. They looked up a bit more.
'Oh, my,' said Ptaclusp. 'It's Hat, the Vulture-Headed God...'
Ephebe lay beyond them, a classical poem of white marble lazing around its rock on a bay of brilliant blue-
'What's that?' said Ptraci, after studying it critically for some time.
'It's the sea,' said Teppic. 'I told you, remember. Waves and things.'
'You said it was all green and rough.'
'Sometimes it is.'
'Hmm.' The tone of voice suggested that she disapproved of the sea but, before she could explain why, they heard the sound of voices raised in anger. They were coming from behind a nearby sand dune.
There was a notice on the dune.
It said, in several languages: AXIOM TESTING STATION.
Below it, in slightly smaller writing, it added: CAUTION - UNRESOLVED POSTULATES.
As they read it, or at least as Teppic read it and Ptraci didn't, there was a twang from behind the dune, followed by a click, followed by an arrow zipping overhead. You Bastard glanced up at it briefly and then turned his head and stared fixedly at a very small area of sand.