Unseen Academicals (Discworld 37)

'Died because he was dumb,' said Trev. 'And don't tell me it was the way he would have wanted to go. No one would want to go like that.'

'But he loved his football!'

'So? What does that mean? The Stollop boys love their football. Andy Shank loves 'is football! And what does it mean? Not countin' today, how often have you seen the ball in play? Hardly ever, I bet.'

'Well, yes, but it's not about the football.'

'You're saying that football is not about football?'

Glenda wished she'd had a proper education, or, failing that, any real education at all. But she was not going to back off now. 'It's the sharing,' she said. 'It's being part of the crowd. It's chanting together. It's all of it. The whole thing.'

'I believe, Miss Glenda,' said Nutt from his mattress, 'that the work you are looking for is Trousenblert's Der Selbst uberschritten durch das Ganze.'

They looked down at Nutt again, mouths open. He had opened his eyes and appeared to be staring at the ceiling. 'It is the lonely soul trying to reach out to the shared soul of all humanity, and possibly much further. W. E. G. Goodnight's translation of In Search of The Whole is marred, while quite understandable, by the mistranslation of bewu?tseinsschwelle as "haircut" throughout.'

Trev and Glenda looked at one another. Trev shrugged. Where could they start?

Glenda coughed. 'Mister Nutt, are you alive or dead or what?'

'Alive, thank you very much for asking.'

'I saw you killed!' Trev shouted. 'We ran all the way to the Lady Sybil!'

'Oh,' said Nutt. 'I am sorry, I do not recall. It would seem that diagnosis was in error. Am I right?'

They exchanged glances. Trev got the worst of it. When Glenda was angry, her glance might just possibly etch glass. But Nutt had a point. It was hard to argue with a man who insisted that he was not dead.

'Um, and then you came back here and ate nine pies,' said Glenda.

'Looks like they did you good,' said Trev, with brittle cheerfulness.

'But I can't see where they've gone,' Glenda finished. 'Belly-busters, every one of them.'

'You will be angry with me.' Nutt looked frightened.

'Let's all calm down, shall we?' said Trev. 'Look, I was pretty worried, my oath, yes. Not angry, okay? We're your friends.'

'I must be becoming. I must be helpful!' This came from Nutt's lips like a mantra.

Glenda took his hands. 'Look, I'm not bothered about the pies, really I'm not. I like to see a man with a good appetite. But you must tell us what's wrong. Have you done something you shouldn't?'

'I should be making myself worthy,' Nutt said, pulling away gently and not meeting her eyes. 'I must be becoming. I must not lie. I must gain worth. Thank you for your kindness.'

He got up, walked down the length of the vats, picked up a basket of candles, came back, wound up his dribbling machine and began to work, oblivious of their presence.

'Do you know what goes on in his head?' Glenda whispered.

'When he was young, he was chained to an anvil for seven years,' said Trev.

'What? That's terrible! Someone must have been very cruel to do something like that!'

'Or desperate to make sure he didn't get free.'

'Things are never all they seem, Mister Trev,' said Nutt, without looking up from his feverish activity, 'and the acoustics in these cellars are very good. Your father loved you, did he not?'

'Wot?' Trev's face reddened.

'He loved you, took you to the football, shared a pie with you, taught you to cheer for the Dimmers? Did he hold you on his shoulders so that you could see more of the game?'