Glamourhammer - A Discworld Story - 1. Hit and Miss

From far, far away, out of the inky vastness of space, emerged a drag particle of creativity. It streaked through the void, full of determination and eager to change everything. It was small, impossibly small, smaller than a gnat’s hiccup, but it contained a spark of pure, unfettered inspiration—the kind that brings about entirely new ideas, new worlds and civilizations, revolutionary thoughts, and occasionally, Vogon poetry.

This particle, barely older than the Big Bang and still very much a precocious child of the universe, was in a hurry. Mom had called it unfocused, never amounting to anything, but it was about to prove her wrong. It always knew that focus leads to order, and order is boring–the nemesis of creativity.

Somewhere in front of it was the place where it would spark an explosion of creativity and imagination. It headed straight for its target, just as it has done since its birth. One must admit that the concept of straight is somewhat flexible during the birth and evolution of a universe, and it had inadvertently taken a few unfortunate detours, but still, the particle was almost at its final, glorious destination. It urged on through the darkness, shot past shooting stars, tailgated comets, until, at last, it saw the turtle, Great A’Tuin, as it was swimming lazily through the cosmos.

The four mighty elephants stood with solemn grace on its shell in all their eternal, dignified, and uplifting glory, their eyes reflecting the infinite depth of their cosmic thoughts. On their backs rested the Discworld itself: flat, improbable, and rotating gently in the starlight like a cosmic pizza on a divine fingertip.

The drag particle, despite itself, whispered a soft “wow,” in the way only abstract entities can, and dove toward the Disc like an arrow loosed from the bow of Destiny (a notoriously bad shot).

The particle zoomed closer, the details of the Disc becoming sharper. At its heart stood the spindle-like peak of Cori Celesti, rising impossibly high into the air, where the gods themselves resided. They were known to gamble recklessly on the fates of mortals, as gods often do when they get bored with omnipotence. However, had they known about the irregularity that was about to happen without their meddling, they would have been very irritated indeed. Spontaneous surprises were, after all, only entertaining if you had meticulously planned them yourself.

Below, the continents spread out in all their peculiar, improbable glory. The particle, however, had little time for geography. It shot over the lands like a mischievous bullet, faster and faster, honing in on the Circle Sea, glittering under the small moon, and then on a city that practically radiated life, chaos, and the faint smell of cabbage.

Ankh-Morpork.

The city was as it always was: loud, bustling, and filled with a population that considered the phrase “anything could happen” less of a caution and more of an operating philosophy. The River Ankh, technically a liquid but only just, snaked sluggishly through the city, carrying with it a cargo of debris, a rich history of pollution, and possibly the occasional corpse.

As the drag particle descended, landmarks flashed past: the imposing spire of the Unseen University, where wizards cheerfully ignored any semblance of logic or health and safety; the great bulk of the Patrician’s Palace, where Lord Vetinari ruled with the kind of ruthless efficiency that could almost be mistaken for kindness if you squinted at it hard enough; and, of course, the Mended Drum, where patrons were currently enjoying their nightly ritual of drinking, brawling, and sometimes accidentally inventing new musical genres by hitting each other with unconventional objects.

But the drag particle wasn’t interested in landmarks. It had a target.

There he stood in the heart of the city. Tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating goodness so pure that nearby cynics often found themselves suddenly needing to lie down. Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson, of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. His breastplate gleamed like a mirror that would reflect your best self back at you, whether you wanted to see it or not. He stood with perfect posture, smiling kindly at a street vendor as he returned a stray coin the vendor hadn’t even noticed had fallen from their till.

The drag particle hurtled toward him, its metaphysical energy brimming excitedly with the chaotic potential to transform worlds. Here, it thought, was its moment. After all these billennia and that extra bit before time was invented, it was about to inspire someone so full of wholesomeness to unfettered greatness! A new age of wonder was about to unfold!

It picked up speed, one last time, concentrating to increase its impact. Aiming precisely, just like mom had taught it, it struck this greatest of man squarely in the chest, ready to explode into brilliance and change the world.

Plonk!

The particle bounced away like a slightly wet rubber ball off a brick wall, stunned, and stumbled into an unsuspecting dwarf.