Pyramids (Discworld 7)

There is nothing mystical about the power of pyramids.

Pyramids are dams in the stream of time. Correctly shaped and orientated, with the proper paracosmic measurements correctly plumbed in, the temporal potential of the great mass of stone can be diverted to accelerate or reverse time over a very small area, in the same way that a hydraulic ram can be induced to pump water against the flow.

The original builders, who were of course ancients and therefore wise, knew this very well and the whole point of a correctly-built pyramid was to achieve absolute null time in the central chamber so that a dying king, tucked up there, would indeed live forever - or at least, never actually die. The time that should have passed in the chamber was stored in the bulk of the pyramid and allowed to flare off once every twenty-four hours.

After a few aeons people forgot this and thought you could achieve the same effect by a) ritual b) pickling people and c) storing their soft inner bits in jars.

This seldom works.

And so the art of pyramid tuning was lost, and all the knowledge became a handful of misunderstood rules and hazy recollections. The ancients were far too wise to build very big pyramids. They could cause very strange things, things that would make mere fluctuations in time look tiny by comparison.

By the way, contrary to popular opinion pyramids don't sharpen razor blades. They just take them back to when they weren't blunt. It's probably because of quantum.

sire. We cannot be too careful, sire. Clearly they are not here, sire.'

'You look as if you could do with a breath of fresh air,' said Teppic, upbraiding himself for doing this but doing it, nevertheless. Dios at a loss was an awe-inspiring sight, and slightly disconcerting; it made one instinctively fear for the stability of things.

'Yes, sire. Thank you, sire.'

'Have a sit down and someone will bring you a glass of water. And then we will go and inspect the pyramid.'

Dios sat down.

There was a terrible little splintering noise.

'He's sat on the boat,' said the king. 'First humorous thing I've ever seen him do.'

The pyramid gave a new meaning to the word 'massive'. It bent the landscape around it. It seemed to Teppic that its very weight was deforming the shape of things, stretching the kingdom like a lead ball on a rubber sheet.

He knew that was a ridiculous idea. Big though the pyramid was, it was tiny compared to, say, a mountain.

But big, very big, compared to anything else. Anyway, mountains were meant to be big, the fabric of the universe was used to the idea. The pyramid was a made thing, and much bigger than a made thing ought to be.

It was also very cold. The black marble of its sides was shining white with frost in the roasting afternoon sun. He was foolish enough to touch it and left a layer of skin on the surface.

'It's freezing!'

'It's storing already, O breath of the river,' said Ptaclusp, who was sweating. 'It's the wossname, the boundary effect.'

'I note that you have ceased work on the burial chambers,' said Dios.

'The men . . . the temperature . . . boundary effects a bit too much to risk . . .' muttered Ptaclusp. 'Er.'

Teppic looked from one to the other.

'What's the matter?' he said. 'Are there problems?'

'Er,' said Ptaclusp.

'You're way ahead of schedule. Marvellous work,' said Teppic. 'You've put a tremendous amount of labour on the job.'

'Er. Yes. Only.'

There was silence except for the distant sounds of men at work, and the faint noise of the air sizzling where it touched the pyramid.

'It's bound to be all right when we get the capstone on, the pyramid builder managed eventually. 'Once it's flaring properly, no problem. Er.'

He indicated the electrum capstone. It was surprisingly small, only a foot or so across, and rested on a couple of trestles.