'A stranger-?' said Ptaclusp uncertainly.
'I mean himself, when older,' snapped IIa. 'That was philosophy,' he added.
'One of the masons beat himself up yesterday,' said one of the IIbs gloomily. 'He was fighting with himself over his wife. Now he's going mad because he doesn't know whether it's an earlier version of him or someone he hasn't been yet. He's afraid he's going to creep up on him. There's worse than that, too. Dad, we're paying forty thousand people, and we're only employing two thousand.'
'It's going to bankrupt us, that's what you're going to say,' said Ptaclusp. 'I know. It's all my fault. I just wanted something to hand on to you, you know. I didn't expect all this. It seemed too easy to start with.'
One of the IIas cleared his throat.
'It's . . . uh . . . not quite as bad as all that,' he said quietly.
'What do you mean?'
The accountant laid a dozen copper coins on the table.
'Well, er,' he said. 'You see, eh, it occurred to me, since there's all this movement in time, that it's not just people who can be looped, and, er, look, you see these coins?'
One coin vanished.
'They're all the same coin, aren't they,' said one of his brothers.
'Well, yes,' said the IIa, very embarrassed, because interfering with the divine flow of money was alien to his personal religion. 'The same coin at five minute intervals.'
'And you're using this trick to pay the men?' said Ptaclusp dully.
'It's not a trick! I give them the money,' said IIa primly. 'What happens to it afterwards isn't my responsibility, is it?'
'I don't like any of this,' said his father.
'Don't worry. It all evens out in the end,' said one of the IIas. 'Everyone gets what's coming to them.'
'Yes. That's what I'm afraid of,' said Ptaclusp.
'It's just a way of letting your money work for you,' said another son. 'It's probably quantum.'
'Oh, good,' said Ptaclusp weakly.
'We'll get the block on tonight, don't worry,' said one of the IIbs. 'After it's flared the power off we can all settle down.'
'I told the king we'd do it tomorrow.' The Ptaclusp IIbs went pale in unison. Despite the heat, it suddenly seemed a lot colder in the tent.
'Tonight, father,' said one of them. 'Surely you mean tonight?
'Tomorrow,' said Ptaclusp, firmly. 'I've arranged an awning and people throwing lotus blossom. There's going to be a band. Tocsins and trumpets and tinkling cymbals. And speeches and a meat tea afterwards. That's the way we've always done it. Attracts new customers. They like to have a look round.'
'Father, you've seen the way it soaks up. . . you've seen the frost . .
'Let it soak. We Ptaclusps don't go around capping off pyramids as though we were finishing off a garden wall. We don't knock off like a wossname in the night. People expect a ceremony.
'But-'
'I'm not listening. I've listened to too much of this new-fangled stuff. Tomorrow. I've had the bronze plaque made, and the velvet curtains and everything.'
One of the IIas shrugged. 'It's no good arguing with him,' he said. 'I'm from three hours ahead. I remember this meeting. We couldn't change his mind.'
'I'm from two hours ahead,' said one of his clones. 'I remember you saying that, too.'
Beyond the walls of the tent, the pyramid sizzled with accumulated time.